Les trois vérités

A l’heure où débute la campagne présidentielle durant laquelle tous les candidats vont nous enfumer sur une baisse du chômage, une réduction de la dette et une reprise de la croissance, il est temps de dire les trois vérités : le chômage est définitif, la dette ne sera jamais remboursée et la croissance ne reprendra jamais.

Il y aura toujours du chômage parce qu’on remplace l’homme par les machines et maintenant l’intelligence artificielle. La dette ne sera jamais remboursée parce qu’on s’endette en achetant notre argent à des banques privées. La croissance ne reviendra jamais parce qu’on a dépassé les possibilités de la planète pour continuer à grandir. La seule croissance possible aujourd’hui est sur le dos des autres, les pauvres ou les pays du Tiers Monde. Mais les autres se laissent de moins en moins faire. La seule solution pour rembourser la dette serait d’imprimer à nouveau sa monnaie. Mais la constitution européenne l’interdit. La seule issue contre le chômage serait le partage du travail. Mais il faudrait aussi partager les bénéfices du travail des machines. Or, la constitution européenne nous enferme dans une logique libérale qui interdit la solidarité. Nous allons donc assister au ballet vocal de candidats qui vont à qui mieux-mieux nous faire croire à l’amélioration d’une situation que le système mis en place dégrade inéluctablement depuis quarante ans. Leur manière de penser ? Si le système dégrade tout, c’est qu’il n’est pas allé assez loin. Il faut donc insister dans l’erreur. C’est un point de vue totalitaire. Si je me trompe, c’est que j’ai raison, mais pas suffisamment. Donc, je me trompe encore plus, et ainsi de suite. Quand Juppé déclare que l’augmentation du chômage, c’est un échec de Hollande, cela signifie : « Hollande n’est pas allé assez loin dans le système. Moi, j’irai encore plus loin. » Nous pouvons donc nous attendre, si le maire de Bordeaux est élu, à ce qu’il accentue le chômage, la dette, et le désastre social, sans surprise. Or, la réalité n’est pas catastrophique. Nous avons des maisons, des champs à cultiver, de l’eau, et des savoir-faire. A condition de cesser de polluer l’eau, d’éroder la terre arable, d’empoisonner les sols, d’oublier les savoir-faire, et de détruire le patrimoine architectural. Un jour, nous n’aurons plus besoin de dénier la réalité, car la réalité aura disparu. Par quoi commencer ? Reconnaître les trois vérités : il n’y aura plus jamais de croissance, de plein emploi et de remboursement de la dette ? Après, ça ira mieux.

Jean-Luc Coudray
Dans le Psikopat n°291 Novembre 2016

Si je me suis fait chier à retaper tout l’article de Coudray c’est parce que c’est ce que je pense, mot pour mot, et je voulais le partager ici avec vous. C’est quand même dingue de ne trouver les vraies chroniques profondes et lumineuses que dans ces revues alternatives et résistantes comme ce bon vieux « Psikopat » de Carali….

Here we go

Carbrey straightened in the armchair. Now that Ali was done ignoring him, things could move forward. He had forgotten why they had initially planned to meet, but now that he was here might at least entertain some conversation. “Can I help you?” Ali asked indifferently. Carbrey thought he caught a tinge of harshness in her voice, and he grinned. “Yes, I’ve forgotten why I’m here, love.” He stood up and crossed the room to where she sat at her desk, coffee mug in hand, and leaned against it, careful not to get in her way. The stack of papers he had thrown to her was sitting on her desk, untouched, while she looked over some papers of her own. He glanced over at Rasalas, who was staring him down from the other side of the desk, tail twitching. “If I make peace with the bloody creature, will he leave me alone?” he asked, shoving his wand back into his pocket. “I don’t like coming over to your chambers and being stared down by a cat. A man can’t have a normal conversation, among other things, with a furry creature like that breathing down his neck.” He paused, once again eying Rasalas again. Why is he called Rasalas anyway? Rasalas. Sounds like rat’s ass to me.”

The cat hissed at him, and he instinctively leaned away from him, sliding his hand in his pocket to grasp his wand cautiously. The cat, though small as it was as far as animals went, had caused Carbrey more than his fair share of pain. It had an unusual ability to claw him rather deeply and he had plenty of scars on both of his arms to document his and the animal’s relationship. “Anyway. So listen, I’ve got this theory. It isn’t really mine, but I overheard some of the other professors talking about me so of course I listened in. Apparently the reason why they think I’ve managed to stick around so long without being tossed out by the Ministry or some parents’ union or whatever is because Dumbledore has got a soft spot for me. Not like, in a fatherly way but more like in save-my-life kind of way. Interesting, huh? They bet that I’m in some sort of trouble and that I’m here so that old Dumbly can watch over me and make sure I don’t get avada kedavra-ed.”

He took his eyes off of Ali and looked back at the cat once again. Carbrey had never been good at staying on one topic for very long and as soon as he had relayed what he had heard he was back on a different subject.  Rasalas was glaring at him more intently than ever. “Seriously, look at your cat. Which would work better, me accioing him or picking him up and moving him to a different room physically?” Carbrey strode over to the other side of the desk and he stood before Rasalas arrogantly, crossing his arms and staring down at the cat. Enough with the staring contests and hissing and scratching. If Carbrey was going to be here, he didn’t want the cat there as well and he would move him one way or another. “Come on, you bloody rat,” he said, pulling his wand out of his hand as a precaution and grabbing the cat by the back of his neck with his other hand. He put his wand in the cat’s face, as if to say “Come on, I dare you to scratch me.”

There would have been a much easier way to do this, but Carbrey knew that if Ali even thought for a millisecond he was about to use magic on her pet there would have been trouble. Moving him physically, like most normal people would do, would have been the only way without inciting her. He picked up the cat mercilessly and held it close to his chest with one arm as he made his way over to a different room. The cat fought viciously, squirming this way and that and attempting to claw him as much as possible. Carbrey managed to make it to the other room safely, but as soon as he crossed the threshold the cat managed to break free of his hold and leapt to the ground, but not before leaving several deep gashes on him.

Carbrey swore, a stream of colorful curses being the only thing Ali could probably make out from the other room. Somehow, Rasalas had managed to leave him with three nasty cuts, two on his arm and one over his knee. “What the hell?” he swore, looking over the cuts. How in Merlin’s name had a cat managed to leave those? He swore again and looked around the room for the creature. Enough with the politics, he was going to make the cat pay now. Ali could be angry, but he didn’t care. The cat was losing its fur, and that was that.

Unfortunately the cat had disappeared; whether it had gone back to Ali or had hid somewhere in this side room he didn’t know. Carbrey had also lost his wand when the cat had jumped from him and he couldn’t find that either. Most likely it had rolled under some piece of furniture. He would have to have Ali accio it for him.

He left the room and went to rejoin Ali. “Your bloody cat…” he began, but cut off. Fuck it, he didn’t care. They could meet in his rooms from now on. He held out his arm for Ali to see, showing her the two gashes. “I’ve lost my wand. Help a dying man out?” he asked sarcastically.