“There is no God here. Or is it a city for sons of bitches?” Luis Ciges wondered in Amanec, which is no small thing and every tourist who visits us in July could ask him, because Spain is known to be a wasteland in summer. The Spain that saw blustery summers host to huge cultural and sporting events is now a summer-paralyzed country, hence the idea that a month from now you’ll have to run to the polling station and twist your elbow ninety degrees to pop an envelope into a ballot box throw further evidence of the evil of Sanchismo.
Such nonsense is one of those that have been heard in pseudo-informational broadcasts since the election call. My favorite is the one that defends Schrödinger’s welfare state: The Spain that is said to be living in an economic apocalypse is also the Spain that will be mindlessly vacationing on July 23rd, all of us, every one of the 47 million or so that we are will be for money. Hearing various pollsters defend the “eccentricity” that election debates bring is already a pill too hard to swallow.
In order not to feel that they think I’m an idiot, I join those who, after fleeing in terror from their bandmates, made Arús the leader of the audience. Why fret over the umpteenth interesting twist on reality when you can start your day with beautiful videos of small animals? I choose the old-fashioned charm of a program with the flair of summer nights and eternal celebrations. Aruser@s en Top quality videos commented by the singles table at an open bar wedding, two hours where nothing bad can happen, why start the day with a touch of bile when a little sugar makes everything better.
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