You have to read José Antonio Primo de Rivera.
The reason is that it is enough to turn around any phrase of the founder of Spanish fascism for the result to be an unappealable truth.
Let's take the definition that José Antonio gave of the word “man” —the example is by Sánchez Ferlosio—: “Bearer of eternal values”;
and now let's replace each of those words with its antonym: "Enjoyer of ephemeral goods".
There is the truth.
Something similar happens with Donald Trump, after all the most conspicuous representative of that form of postmodern fascism called national-populism.
Suffice it to remember that our man stands for presidential re-election as the guarantor of law and order, when the pure evidence is that for four years he has violated or tried to violate an incalculable number of laws of his country, without disdaining the Constitution, and has sowed chaos throughout the Union.
So when the blessed day of the publication of the complete works of Trump arrives, it will be enough to turn each and every sentence they contain to turn that volume into a source of unfading wisdom.
That said, the question is: how did Americans elect this man to the office of president?
How is it possible that many want to re-elect you?
It's the million dollar question.
The answers, of course, are countless (as many, probably, as Trump voters), but I caught a glimpse of one of them recently, while watching a concert in February 2012 at the White House.
There, in the front row, Obama and his family sat, but on stage were the best of the best: BB King, Mick Jagger, Buddy Guy, Jeff Beck, The Allman Brothers.
Towards the end, Obama announced that the musicians were going to play
Sweet Home Chicago
, their favorite blues, because it is the blues of their city.
So, while they were still performing that wonderful song, the musicians asked the president to pick up the mic and sing.
This is the last straw, I thought.
"Don't let it come out, please.
Don't sing ”.
However, after getting a bit lazy, Obama came out and sang, duet with BB King;
He not only sang: he sang well, the bastard!
"I'd like to be Cary Grant too," Cary Grant once said.
That was Obama's problem: he was not content with being the first black president of his country;
Furthermore, he looked like the character Cary Grant played in the movies: young, handsome, cheerful, elegant, cultured, intelligent, and charming.
I'm not saying that, after adding and subtracting, Obama was an exceptional president (although, compared to what came later, he seems like an improved reincarnation of Pericles);
is that, as a person, it was too much for the body.
I mean: too much for what is usually called deep America, a white America that, as anyone who has lived in it knows (not in New York, not in Los Angeles), is still largely rocky racist, rugged and ultramontane.
That America lived the Obama presidency as a humiliation and, to take revenge on it, in the following elections it voted exactly the opposite of Obama, his perfect negative: a fat, old, childish, liar, mean, repulsive, macho, racist and completely illiterate.
It will have been said at some time: Trump is La Vendée, the counterrevolution that follows every revolution, the two steps backward that follow every step forward.
And also, secretly, a collective suicide attempt.
Will the most powerful nation on earth just be killed?
Will the Americans elect again, the day after tomorrow, a president who has split the United States in half, profoundly eroded its democratic institutions, degraded public life to the limit, and spread the poison of discord everywhere, in addition to having locked in himself to his country and have reduced it to progressive international irrelevance?
If Trump wins the election, calamity is assured;
But if you lose them, it may be even worse, because you will challenge them.
"I can only lose these elections if they are rigged," he said.
Who knows how to pray, let him pray.