Easter passes and everything is the same: Arturo Pérez-Reverte has been on X since February 2010 and still does not grant any likes. One could present another evidence of this immutability and say that Netanyahu continues to finish off everything except Hamas (other “saints”…). But it seems that it is not right to accuse him… and the desire to get into a murder is inferior to that of evading the networks with the futile and first reminder. So happy Easter to the evil ones.
We have left Easter behind and to top it all off, April is just beginning so that the Manel’s Cold Night to be April, and the video of Furiase pissing herself laughing with that of the “abril-cerral”. And in less than twenty days, the rattle of the letter never sent from the short Celtic on the 20th of 90.
But there are green shoots, with a jolting mood. “My grandfather was born on Day of the Dead 89 years ago. Today, Resurrection Day, he died. He was like that, a fucking machine”, says @nefer_trix. And there are news. A party decides that the best day to announce the signing of a well-known meteorologist from TV3 is, via Instagram, an evening on Easter Sunday.
Tomàs Molina predicts the weather, but not the networks and dares to ask in two tweets what we think of his jump into politics. They want the “butifler”. Blessed innocence, hers, in the face of the presumption of all those politicians who during the election period reveal even more that they believe modesty is an indoor plant.
The star these days, however, is @el_floriano and the responses to his tweet. Attach an image of some lentils. Some float, others don’t. Because? “Only a few learn to swim. They are part of a select squad of elite legumes trained by the carretillero, lord of the asparagus”. “Those that float produce flatulence”, someone says. They correct it: “Flotalences”. More: “Those that don’t float have iron”. And much more. The yarn is priceless.
Easter is over. On Monday in Valencia. All activity resumes on Tuesday. The judge files the investigations on Mónica Oltra. The media that would contribute to distort reality by pointing it out and filling the front pages are silent. It is the ABC of journalism, what is demanded of the world, what is demanded of reason: rectification. No subterfuge or irony. There is no more. They are lentils.
Meanwhile, Oltra’s former chief of staff, @miquelreal, today finds special meaning in the lyrics “it’s a cold night because it’s April / there’s nowhere like home”. “Thank you, @ElsManel: it’s April and, despite the cold, spring is beginning to bloom,” he writes.
