In the absence of a president, who was convalescing in Washington of his own with Trump , the vice-president spoke, who wanted to resemble the Macron who charged against national populism in the Sorbonne. While the Catalan crisis lasts, Albert Rivera has wisely decided to oppose it in the face of extreme loyalty, so he asked Sáenz de Santamaría how to better and even better defend the democracy. Courtesy of an ally that Soraya did not miss. He broke down elementary principles of law with an oppositional anointing, but in a chamber where legal adolescence takes over a third of the seats, his words fell like urine on his pants, according to the fluid metaphor that President Lyndon Johnson he whispered in Galbraith’s ear: “Have you ever thought, Ken, that making a speech on economics is a lot like pissing on yourself? You notice the heat, but no one else realizes it.” Who says economy says the Constitution.
This time the monologue of Gaby -that to execute it he is already rolling up his jacket as the most orthodox aspirants of the Comedy Club- consisted of claiming the independence of Castile. He reaped resounding demagogic saucer blows, like when he asked Zoido to redirect police boats to save boats in the Mediterranean. Or when he improvised a deep elegy for the robbery of his country, which according to Rufián occurred 80 years ago and no one has seen him since. How are we going to find the ballot boxes if Catalonia itself has not yet appeared? Has the minister looked well at lost objects? Won’t Catalonia die of laughter at a slogan at the Sants station, waiting for an Adif official to find it, and the problem solved? And is it not possible that in the same remote place we find other lost things of incalculable value, such as the famous silent majority, the sense of ridicule of Mr. Rufián or the Spanish party mask that took off Podemos?
Then the morning programmed two numbers perhaps less artistic but no longer compatible with shame. The Podemos deputy spoke first, who was a civil guard and made a vibrant plea in favor of his former colleagues destined for Catalonia, for whom he asked for better conditions and the right to organize. So far so good. But the speaker began to twist when he slipped that the Benemérita actually acts forced in Catalonia, and that what comes out but is not allowed is to distribute appeasing carnations among the mischievous boys who burn flags of Spain and prepare their destruction. He finished fastening the delirium by cheering on the Civil Guard who applauded him Iglesias but obviously not Domenech . What the elastic tradition of populist contortionism lacked: that the same party that admires Otegi and that opened the Cortes to the relatives of the Alsasua aggressors, now try to earn the respect of the Body. So Zoido reminded him with reflexes.
But the most beautiful pifostio was created when Montero imputed to the Government a sadistic desire to cover innocent Catalan-speaking creatures under rubber balls and streams of water. “Francoism is called that!” Roared Doña Irene, who seconds later, very offensive, claimed protection because someone apparently had answered something from some bench. As happened in Zaragoza, we will never cease to be amazed at the ease of the radical left to go from bullying to victimhood without being shaken by a muscle on the face. But as for the tree and the nuts, it will be necessary to continue getting used to it: Iglesias will already have written the soflama to the Luther King of Vallecas to scavenge the first blow that falls on an Arran puppy.
