Fleeing from the private pirates and the swamp creatures that imprisoned him, Minister Paulo Guedes is in Washington. If you have time, you might as well stop by the National Gallery and spend a few minutes in front of Rembrandt’s “Self-Portrait”, painted in 1659, when he went bankrupt.
The downcast look and sadness of the genius are a lesson in modesty. For years, this picture (and its gaze) sat on the desk of American banker Andrew Mellon, treasury secretary to three presidents and trustee for the ruin of the 1929 crisis. a genius artist who, relying too much on himself, has ruined himself. The doctor was a bit neurasthenic.
He had some trouble with the Internal Revenue Service, but he polished his biography by donating his art collection to the American people and capping the construction of the National Gallery building. Some paintings Mellon donated are worth more than all the herbalist Guedes sent to his Caribbean refuge.
In Mellon’s time there were no tax havens and his children were known for the fortunes they made, not the treasures they hid. All republicans to the core.
Andrew Mellon was an uncompromising conservative. The idea that he could get into political adventures with a right-wing demagogue (in the United States they abound) is as absurd as imagining him dyeing his white mustache.
Paulo Guedes embodies the Latin American type of the ambitious and opportunist wealthy who comes to power with big plans, discovers he has no space to carry them out, and curls up in the comfort of his chair. Guedes believed he could put three ministries under his baton and three years later he discovered that he barely commands one of them.
In March of last year, when Dr. Guedes realized that he could not speak out in the face of Gustavo Bebianno’s death, he should have looked for the exit door. After all, it had been Bebianno who had taken him to the captain who would later call him Posto Ipiranga, to please the paperworkers. The friend of old had lost the favor of the Plateau. (In 1976, Antonio Carlos Magalhães, a procer of the dictatorship, attended the funeral of Juscelino Kubitschek, an outlaw, and woe to anyone who tried to patrol him.)
Guedes’ direct collaborators showed him that some of his ideas were delusions. Some of them, unable to be heard, left. The doctor knew what kind of government he was getting into and he must have known that the Ipiranga Post could only exist in the rings of Saturn.
The minister’s millions in the Caribbean paradise were a pretext for the swamp creatures to leave him in the sun. Soon they, with whom he tried to get along so well. That leaves private pirates. For now, some of them are looking to preserve the economy czar turned into a refrigerator penguin. They do this because they fear that the willful Pedro Guimarães, president of Nossa Caixa, who has 15 guns, will take his place.
Guedes promised privatizations, delivered inflation, promised reforms, offered the pedaling of the precatório. Failed.
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