This Thursday had been marked in red for weeks. We were celebrating a long-awaited dinner with two friends and a friend with whom it is easy to confess. We haven’t known each other since childhood, we don’t share a neighborhood or an EGB class, but it seems we grew up in the same block. We could have met at the institute and have been friends ever since. Life brought us together later. Even if we had met in 2nd year of BUP, things would not have turned out so well. The three of us hunks look like we’ve been exposed to arcade meat and acne. She, to take notes, and go out with the typical badass with Rieju tricked.
And Thursday arrived and everything was screwed up, because the one who did not fail her annual appointment with me was spring asthenia. She thought that this year she had outwitted her, but no. There she was with her weariness, her bone ache, and her weariness. What had to be wine and laughter became a Solán de Cabras bottled mineral water with oral serum powder. Deli. What had to be confessions in a cocktail bar became pajamas, a sofa and a payment platform, that cool place where choosing a series is more difficult than agreeing with the left of the PSOE.
It was the only thing I nailed all night: The left-handed boy, on Movistar Plus, with a MarÃa León who is out. I swallowed all six chapters, one after the other. What happens when you find out that your 17-year-old son is a neo-Nazi? With a knot in your stomach, you suffer as if the boy were yours and she was his mother.
I finished the series at that time when zapping inevitably leads you to some right-wing gathering. It had been a while since I had been there, and I detected a certain disappointment with the Feijóo operation. The thing does not work, and Don Alberto is getting the face of Casado and verb of Rajoy. One day he calls Bruce a sprinter, and another day his pupils dilate in Cádiz, with his history of dangerous friendships.
On the other hand, the face of the right-wing commentator lights up when he pronounces the name of Isabel DÃaz Ayuso, the muse of the entire right, also from the extreme right to the extreme right of the PP. It was Thursday and they were still celebrating with jokes the blockade of Minister Bolaños on Tuesday. Not a nightclub doorman tackling the one who is presented with loafers and white socks. The right-wing commentator continues to be fascinated by the bullying instigated by Ayuso. A line of T-shirts at Bershka with the face of his chief of protocol is not ruled out. Because now an important part of the right is badass. And he’s cool.
I detect in some totems of the gatherings a certain desire that Feijóo not do so well in the municipal and regional elections. That Ayuso sweeps Madrid but that the Popular Party does not win, for example, in Valencia. With this panorama, we would arrive at his dream scenario: that Feijóo could not stand it, and that Ayuso was the candidate of the Popular Party for president of Spain. He has experience killing candidates.
Sánchez versus Ayuso, the mother of all battles. The two most killer candidates in Spanish politics. The most ambitious The two that always come out to win. Without victory, his political career no longer makes sense. They are a Barça-Madrid in the Champions League final. The height of the footballing of politics. There is anxiety in the stands.
I finish the zapping in a sports gathering where they talk about the Cup Final, that trophy less devalued when Madrid plays it. The dispute against Osasuna, and I do not observe in the national media that journalistic adherence to the weaker team, as happens when the other rival is Barça. The same is asthenia that confuses me. But I’d say I’m not that bad.
