Leonard Cohen spoke in a beautiful song about trying to be free like a bird on the wire, like a drunk in the midnight choir.
I had a sense of the latter when listening in his public speech to an individual with a grayish and curly appearance, but progressively emboldened by the arrogant certainty that power must grant, who in addition to being very happy about the approval of the amnesty, also congratulated himself himself for his own success.
I believe that this man is a minister of wise and fair Justice.
And I say, something alarming is happening in his brain when he celebrates his
ego trip
of him before all God, taking into account that some time ago he fervently claimed the opposite regarding the amnesty.
But his supreme boss in the shed has already clarified that lies do not exist, that it is only a matter of sensible and realistic changes of opinion thinking about the supreme good of the Nation.
This man's madness is so scandalous, amphetamine-like and pathetic that even the scriptwriters of
The Intermission,
so obsessively dedicated to satirizing the fachosphere, need to laugh and mock this delirious self-congratulation.
What doesn't seem comical to me, but verging on fetid, is that among the numerous amnestied people there could be a very large family that was illicitly enriched for an infinite amount of time at the expense of that gangster 3% that that politician with personality and voice denounced so long ago. seductress named Pasqual Maragall.
In the end it will turn out that the Pujols' Corleonic fortune came from a family inheritance they 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 narrates in his program about 11-M.
There were vile lies from the rulers about the authorship of that barbarism to try to extend her rule in the elections that were to be held days later.
How sad to see the face again and hear the words of so many powerful maneuverers.
And the dead?
We don't know their names.
They lived on the periphery, they got up before dawn to look for 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 one who claimed that children and the weak should be the first to be saved when shipwreck came?
There are no laws or compassion.
Just strength.
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