I know of no better description of the eternal state than that of Santos Discépolo in the undeniable Tango Cambalache. He says things like this: “I already know that the world was and will be crap in the year 506 and in the year 2000. That there will always be, and always have been, jets, Machiavelli, and cheaters, you, happy and bitter. 20th century, Cambalache, problematic and feverish. If you don’t cry, you don’t suck, and if you don’t worry, you’re a gil.”
The exchange must have started with Adam and Eve and will continue until the apocalypse, which doesn’t seem so far off. I’ve always believed in hackneyed clichés such as that the face is the mirror of the soul and that we can tell the staff by their looks. Of course with exceptions. I think about it and watch the state funeral dedicated to the almighty Berlusconi, the corrupt ancestor, big-time fraudster, lovable Mafia colleague, trash TV tycoon. How can anyone trust such a person whose face has been operated on to the point of nausea? Well, a lot of Italians loved him. Or maybe they envied him and wished they were like him. Another one that immediately raises a grimace is this lying and ruthless gorilla named Trump. But they ascended the throne and are admired by a large part of the common people. You can imagine Putin, the former KGB chief, torturing the genitals of anyone who disagrees with him. Or drop a nuclear bomb without altering his anatomy or brain in the slightest. Because he has no heart. It also threatens the satrap of North Korea, who looks like a monstrous baby.
In Spain, the members or candidates for the perpetual exchange aspire only to maintain it or to replace it after the sacred elections. But of course everyone only thinks about the welfare of the Spanish people. What kind of Spanish people will that be?
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