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Bolaños, happy to have met | Television

by Isabella Walker
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Leonard Cohen in a beautiful song talked about trying to be free like a bird on a wire, like a drunk in the midnight chorus. I had a sense of the latter by listening in his public speech to an individual with a greyish and curile appearance, but progressively emboldened by the arrogant certainty that power must grant, who in addition to being very happy with the approval of the amnesty, also he congratulated himself on his success. I believe this man is a wise and just minister of justice. And I mean, something alarming is happening in your brain when you celebrate your Ego Trip above all God, taking into account that some time ago he fervently assured the opposite regarding the amnesty. But its supreme leader on the bench has already made it clear that lies do not exist, that they are only sensible and realistic changes of opinion with the supreme good of the Nation in mind.

This man’s madness is so scandalous, amphetamine-like and pathetic that even the screenwriters of The intermediate, so obsessively devoted to satire on the phacosphere, they need to laugh and mock this delusional self-satisfaction. What does not seem comical to me, but bordering on the fetid, is that among the many amnestied people there could be a very large family that has illicitly enriched itself for an infinite time at the expense of that 3% of gangsters that that politician with Personality and rumor reported long ago by a seductress named Pasqual Maragall. It will eventually be discovered that the Pujols’ Corleonic heritage came from a family inheritance received in Andorra. And of course they were the most patriotic. Everything is possible in the name of sacred progressivism.

But the sarcasm disappears and gives way to retrospective anger at what Jordi Évole says in his program about 9/11. There were vile lies from the rulers about the authorship of that barbarism to try to extend their empire in the elections that would take place days later. How sad to see the faces and listen to the words of so many powerful maneuverers. And the dead? We don’t know their names. They lived in the suburbs, they got up before dawn to seek a life or survival in Madrid. The vast majority must have been poor and anonymous. It’s easy to forget them. Like the multitude of creatures massacred in Gaza. Who was the idealist or the naive who maintained that children and the weak should be the first to be saved in the event of a shipwreck? There are no laws or compassion. Only strength.

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