Am citit azi un articol referitor la faptul ca de anul acesta se doreste impozitarea motocicletelor, anual, in functie de emisiile poluante, potrivit ministrului mediului. http://masini.ro/stiri-auto-taxa-auto-noutati-5879.htm
Nu mai sunt bani la guvern? Chiar nu mai aveti de unde sa luati din alta parte?

Da, din pacate traim in tara tuturor posibilitatilor in dezavantajul contribuabililor. Daca nu ma insel cred ca am mai ramas taxa pe aerul expirat si inca vreo 2-3 restul deja le platim. Oare cat mai pot ei da si cat mai putem noi suporta

Fraieru primeste un Lexus GS 450h si se da ca el are treaba cu mediu. Bah ma leshi.

Nu stiti? pana la urma sa adoptat sau nu legea aceasta. Nu de alta da as vrea sa stiu aproximativ ce sume se vehiculeaza.

Rich Man

Grandfather was a philosopher, and like a lot of philosophers, I guess, he was a mild-mannered man who was always ready to admit that there are two sides to every question. So when people got to arguing with him, or around him, about things that they got heated up and illogical about, like politics and religion,1 he would tell this story that Doc Eaton told him one day up on the Hill. (Wow Power Leveling)

　　It happened a long time ago, when the town wasn't all steel and concrete and automobiles; when you could still hear the whir of a lawn mower without taking a streetcar out to the suburbs, and still see a horse lazily switching at the flies on his flanks under almost any sycamore tree.2 The Forest City had a lot of trees in those days.

　　And it had a lot of people that didn't always see eye to eye,3 like a lot of other cities. And it had a rich man, like almost every other town. And this rich man was a pillar in the Baptist Church;4 and people didn't see eye to eye about him, either.

　　There were those—and Grandfather's eyes twinkled when he said it—that claimed the rich man was an old hypocrite5, that he was ruthless in his business dealings, that he was so tightfisted he wouldn't spend a nickel to see an earthquake,6 that when he went to church on Sunday morning he was almost as important as God to a lot of people. world of warcraft gold

　　Then there was the other school of thought7. It asserted that just because a man had made money under conditions as they existed was no reason to call him a lot of hard names.8 In fact, they asserted stoutly, the people that called him names were merely envious of his success9. They maintained he went to church not because he was a sanctimonious old fraud10 but because he was at heart, and for all his money, a simple, deeply religious man.

　　It was while these two groups were hot at it that the rich man gave a party. Well, it wasn't exactly a party, Grandfather would explain. It was more like a shower for the pastor of the church.11 One group of parishioners saw in their invitation nothing but a kindly, neighborly gesture. The other just said it showed how miserly the old buzzard was12—getting other people to do what he could have done a thousand times over without feeling it a mite.13

　　Grandfather said even then he had the sneaking feeling that the rich man wasn't so insulated and isolated by his money14 that he didn't know what people were saying about him, and that was the real reason he gave the party.

　　But both sides of the question went to the party. A lot of them were pretty curious about the inside of a rich man's home. world of warcraft gold

　　They brought offerings for the pastor, as they were requested. Some people brought apples, and others brought sides of bacon and onions and other homey old-fashioned things like that15. But nobody was really much interested in what the other guests brought. They were all waiting for one thing. What would the rich man bring out? Even Doc Eaton, the preacher, according to Grandfather, couldn't help wondering about what was coming. You could feel the undercurrent of suspense.

　　And then the rich man16 brought out his offering.

　　It was a bushel of potatoes.17 They were nice potatoes, extra large and scrubbed white and clean. But still and all, they were only a bushel of potatoes that anybody could buy in the Old Market for a lot less than a dollar.

　　Well, sir, Grandfather chuckled, you could practically see what people were thinking. They were the people who were saying to themselves and to everybody else, "Well, what did I tell you??And then there were those who made it perfectly plain that they thought it was mighty tactful of their host not to make an ostentatious parade of his money18 before a lot of neighbors and friends. cd keys

　　But the host went around as if he didn't notice anything, though Grandfather always insisted that he detected a little twinkle in the rich man's eyes as he shook hands with all his fellow parishioners and wished them good night.

　　The preacher toted19 his gifts into his house, and just because they had been the center of interest, so to speak, he picked one of the big white potatoes out of the basket. Then he noticed that one end of the potato had been opened. He investigated, and discovered that a silver dollar had been neatly inserted through the opening. He examined every potato in that bushel basket, and there was a silver dollar in every single one of them.

　　At this point Grandfather usually sat back and plucked benignly at his white beard20 and smiled. Then he'd turn philosopher and say:

　　"It takes an almighty pile of gall21 for a man to sit up and say what is going on in another man's mind, don't22 it? I mean one way or another. When Doc Eaton told me that story he didn't bother to point out any moral. By the way, he don't do any preaching any more. He's been a congressman from New Jersey for years and years. But I guess the story has a moral, all right. Always sort of tickled23 me, like it must have tickled Doc's rich parishioner." Aion gold

　　"The New Testament says it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.24 Well, I ain't saying it isn't true. But I am saying this: It took John D. Rockefeller to put a silver dollar through the eye of a potato in order that a lot of people could have some food for thought."

Jacob Have I Loved
Our story is called Jacob Have I Loved ,by Katherine Paterson. It received the Newbery Award for the best book written for young people in the United States. The story takes place on Rass Island in the Chesapeake Bay along the eastern coast of the United States, near Maryland and Virginia. The story is told by Sara Louise Bradshaw, a 13-year-old girl who lives with her parents and her twin sister Caroline. Here is Gwen Outen with the story.
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Rass Island lies as low as the back of a turtle on the dark green water of the Chesapeake Bay. We Bradshaws have lived here for more than two hundred years. I love Rass Island although for much of my life I did not think I did.

During the summer of 1941, every morning McCall Purnell and I would get my small boat and go out to catch shellfish called crabs. Watermen on our island sell crabs and eat crabs. Call and I were right smart crabbers and we could always come home with a little money as well as crabs for dinner. My mother was pleased with money I made.

"My!" she said, "that was a good morning. By the time you wash , we'll be ready to eat!" I like the way she did that. replica rolex,She never said I was dirty or that I smelled bad. Just by the time you wash up.

She was a real lady my mother, she had come to teach in the island school and fell in love with my father. What my father needed more than a wife was sons. What my mother gave him was girls--twin girls! I was older than my sister by a few minutes. I always treasure the thought of those minutes. They were the only time in my life when I was the center of everyone's attention. From the moment Caroline was born, she took all the attention for herself. When my mother and grandmother told the story of our births, it was mostly of how Caroline had refused to breathe.

"But where was I?" I asked my mother. replica rolex,
"In the basket," she said, "Grandma dressed you and put you in the basket."

Caroline's true gift was her voice. Our teacher, Mr. Rice, said she should have singing lessons. I was proud of my sister, but something began to hurt me under the pride.

One day, Mama and Caroline came back to the island on a boat after Caroline’s singing lesson. There was an old man on the boat whom I'd never seen before. Our island held few secrets or surprises beyond the weather. But all the old people agreed that he was Hiram Wallace . My friend Call and I started visiting Hiram Wallace. We decided simply to call him the Captain.

The Captain stayed at our house when the big storm hit in 1942. Afterward, we took my little boat heading straight for the Captain's house. But nothing was left at the spot where the Captain's house had stood the night before. Even with his white beard the Captain looked like a little boy trying not to cry.
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Not long after that, the Captain married Trudy Braxton who lived on the island. She was not well and did not live long. Soon the Captain came up the path to our house, his face red with excitement. He told my mother and me that Trudy left a little money. ''There is enough for Caroline to go to boarding school in Baltimore, Maryland and continue her music.'' said the Captain.

I sat there as surprised as if he had thrown a rock in my face! ''Caroline!''

My grandmother came up close behind me. I stiffened at the sound of her hoarse whisper. ''Romans 9-13,'' she said. She repeated the saying from the Christian Bible about the competition between two brothers for their father's love. ''Jacob Have I Loved, but Esau have I hated''.

I had always believed the Captain was different. But he, like everyone else, had chosen Caroline over me.

In the autumn I left school, I spent the winter catching oysters, another kind of shellfish, with my father. That strange winter with my father on his boat was the happiest of my life. I was, for the first time, deeply satisfied with what life was giving me. Part of it was the things I discovered. Who would have believed that my father sang while catching oysters! My quiet father whose voice could hardly be heard in church sang to the oysters! It was a wonderful sound!
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I did not want to go back to school, so my mother taught me at home. I passed the test for graduation with the highest grades recorded from Rass Island.

The war in Europe ended in 1945. At the end of crab season Call came home from the war. The body of a large man in uniform was filling the door.
''Call,'' I cried, ''Oh my blessed Call, you have grown up!'' ''That's what the navy promised,'' he said.

Call told the Captain he had stopped to see Caroline. His face burned with happiness when he told the Captain ''She said YES to me,'' he said softly, ''I guess it is hard for you to think someone like Caroline might like me.''

I went back to the crab house. Soon after Call and Caroline were married, the Captain said to me, ''This is hard for you, isn't it? What is it you really want to do?''

I was totally empty. What was it I really wanted to do?

''Your sister knew what she wanted,'' said the Captain, ''so when the chance came she could take it. Do not tell me no one ever gave you a chance, Sara Louise. You can make your own chances. But first you have to know what you are after, my dear.''

''I would like to see the mountains,'' I said, and then my dream began to form along with the sentence, ''I might, I want to be a doctor.''

''So what is stopping you?'' the Captain asked.
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I realized that under all my dreams of leaving home, I was afraid to go. My mother had told me that she had chosen to leave her people and build the life for herself somewhere else. ''I certainly would not stop you from making the same choice,'' my mother said to me now, ''but all we will miss you, your father and I.''

I wanted so to believe her, ''As much as you miss Caroline?''

Jacob Have I Loved