On the afternoon of September 17, 2014, Pedro Sánchez called Sálvame live, where Jorge Javier Vázquez threatened to stop voting the Socialists for tolerating Toro de la Vega’s cruelty, opening a vein uncharted by politicians. The then new organizational secretary of the PSOE promised the TV star that if he took power he would pass an animal protection law. Vázquez bought the speech. You said you hang up; no you hang up They both djed and were such friends. Sánchez, a newcomer but not stupid, needed more cameras and speakers than he had, and he knew that with this call to this program, equally despised by some, idolized by others, he had a large enough and varied one Community attracted enough that a candidate for governor would oblige him to come down from the heights to hold a free rally for the people. The quality of Save me is disputed. The influence of the television format on political gatherings, sports bars, the redefinition of the term “famous” and the rhetoric in the stands of Congress and Senate that now burns at the stake of Mediaset España’s political and economic interests is a fact.
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What began as hooliganism in 2009, when a coven of parrots and parrots-skinning their neighbors and themselves, transitioned from journalists to news channels, has acted both as a distorting mirror and a faithful reflection of anything-goes society. Weddings, baptisms, divorces, funerals, idylls, fights. Tell me tell me feelings for the beast and if I defamed you I can’t remember. A quiet day on set was a day wasted. So much so, that when things fell apart, they convinced Belén Esteban to celebrate a Belenazo — healing her addiction, mourning the death of her ex-husband, having her umpteenth argument with her daughter’s father — and the audience Pulse with all its glory and misery out of sheer love of the euro. As she said recently: “Save me filled many fridges, the first one being mine.” In addition to their respective haciendas, Sálvame has the public imagery and vocabulary with Lydia Lozano’s Baile Chuminero, Mila the hustle and bustle of each one of them.
On the other side of television there are marujas, retirees and passive classes, yes, but also social and cultural semi-retirees like the one who signs and a new generation of viewers who, paradoxically, are now the ones who, paradoxically, cry most of networks because of the abrupt cut in the supply of this good mandanga. There is always a point of no return. And even though they knew they were convicted, they threw the set out the window with a final mascletà that makes you laugh, coming from the Cremà of the bonfire of the Alicante City Council or Saint Mila Ximénez, the eternal muse of Neither der Saint Silvio Berlusconi, the historic patron saint of the House, recently cast in the shadow of sinners by the Archbishop of Milan himself, were still able to remedy the incurable.
It remains to be seen which ninots from this fire of vanities will be pardoned by the people and which, having been burned by the tears of their elderly falleras, will be left in the ashes carried away by the fire. For now, we only have one authoritative voice’s prediction on the subject. That of María del Carmen Menéndez, Belén Esteban’s mother, who, when her daughter asked her directly about it, said through that mouth: “Now we have to endure five hours of nonsense and nonsense,” referring to what comes after Save me. This is mother love.
In that live call from 2014, Jorge Javier asked Pedro Sánchez to undergo Conchita’s polygraph to find out if he had lied or told the truth about Toro de la Vega and other of his then-new political promises. Sánchez mischievously said neither yes nor no, quite the opposite. Too bad there is no more time. After ten years, multiple lives, a motion of no confidence and four years at the head of his own circle in La Moncloa, the prime minister has taken the bull by the horns and is presenting his own program of interviews with his ministers to see if he gets votes in the next elections . There is no news about Jorge Javier. All we know is that he left the forum out of sheer exhaustion. So this. Dead save me, save yourself who can.
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