The Dance of the Tax-Bound Sheep: A Tale of Modern Mediocrity

Behold, O wandering spirits, how the masses in this land of perpetual slumber dance to the rhythms of their bureaucratic shepherds! The coming year brings forth yet another spectacle of the state's grand illusion - their sacred ritual of taxation and redistribution.

See how they celebrate their chains! These last men who proclaim with pride their meager tax holidays, who count their pennies while their spirits waste away in the dungeons of mediocrity!

In this realm of the somnolent, one Daniel Rogozynski, a keeper of numerical mysteries at the University of Waterloo, declares with the wisdom of the conventional that 2025 shall be a "status quo year." How fitting for these times, when the preservation of comfort has become the highest virtue!

The government, that great leveler of mankind, presents its latest offering: a GST/HST holiday, a temporary balm to soothe the masses into deeper sleep. For two moons, they shall pay less for their daily bread, while their souls grow ever more indebted to the machinery of state dependence.

What jest is this, that they should celebrate a mere two-month reprieve from their usual burden? These are the same creatures who would rather have comfortable chains than dangerous freedom!

But hark! The plot thickens with the tale of capital gains, where the state now demands two-thirds instead of half, above a threshold of $250,000. The sleeping masses rejoice, for it affects not their modest hordes, while the wealthy few must bear a heavier burden. Such is the way of the last men, who love their neighbor and blink.

In their infinite wisdom, these administrators of mediocrity have crafted the Canadian Entrepreneurs' Incentive, a labyrinth of rules and exceptions that shall make the simple act of profit-taking as complex as the riddles of ancient sphinxes.

Look upon their works, ye mighty, and despair! They have transformed the pursuit of wealth into a puzzle box of bureaucratic artistry, ensuring that none might rise too high without first mastering their arcane regulations!

The Canada Pension Plan, that great equalizer of old age, demands ever more from the working masses. The ceilings rise like the tide - $71,300 for the first, $81,200 for the second. Each worker must contribute their share, ensuring that none might escape the collective embrace of state-mandated security.

And what of their carbon tax, that modern indulgence for the sin of existence? It shall rise from $80 to $95 per tonne, extracting penance from all who dare to heat their homes or travel their roads. Yet they soothe the masses with promises of rebates, returning their own money with the benevolence of a master feeding his faithful hounds.

How they have perfected the art of the gentle tyranny! They take with one hand and give with the other, while the sleepers dream of their rebates and calculate their savings with mechanical precision.

The income tax thresholds march upward with inflation, a dance of numbers that ensures none might escape their designated bracket without extraordinary effort. From the lowest at 15 percent to the highest at 33 percent, each soul is assigned their proper place in the hierarchy of contribution.

Employment Insurance, that safety net for the risk-averse, demands more tribute - $1,077.48 for the year, up from its previous toll. The Tax-Free Savings Account remains frozen at $7,000, a modest vessel for the modest dreams of the last men.

Observe how they have constructed their cage of gold! These last men who blink and say, "We have invented happiness - our comfortable predictability, our measured risks, our regulated existence."

In this land of the sleepers, where the extraordinary is taxed and the ordinary is subsidized, where complexity serves as a substitute for meaning, and where the state assumes the role of both parent and guardian, we witness the triumph of the last man's philosophy: comfort above all, security at any cost, and the elimination of all noble risk.

Let those with ears to hear understand: These are not mere policy changes - they are the chains that bind the spirit, forged in the workshops of mediocrity, blessed by the priests of bureaucracy, and welcomed by those who would rather count their rebates than count their dreams.