After re-watching wonderfully old movies that continue to give life to conventional television, I constantly move my little finger on the controller to find cloned and undesirable products. But I note that it has started in The anthill the formidable stage and communicative performance of a professional seducer, of a high-ranking politician, of someone who was transcendent and decisive for the good and less good things that occurred in this country. And I tell myself, despite my fascination with the character, that if he appears accompanied by those unbearable ants, which must possess the grace where his back loses his honest name, I turn off the bug and go to sleep. But the funny professionals are not there. Only Pablo Motos interviewing for a long time that seems short to me, an eternal seducer, an 82-year-old politician, now wearing glasses, with hair as thick as it is white, a master of interpretation, with the old magnetism intact, handling an irony devastating, marking its times and provoking the joyful response of the public, an eminent actor since he was very young named Felipe González.
I know that this singular guy has been condemned to hell for a long time in the name of the supposed common good and stinking political correctness. He is the king, along with Savater, of supreme evil, of betrayal of his descendants, the embodiment of everything reactionary. For my part, I can only hear and see, and then compare. His accusers are grotesque, they do not even come close to his personality, neither in substance nor in form.
I never voted for him. Neither he, nor anyone. Due to civic irresponsibility or pathological illness. But I know how to distinguish in that eternally rotten terrain of politics someone very intelligent from the mediocre and unscrupulous idiots. I have only found politics fascinating and complex if it is described to me by a poet like Shakespeare. As an example, Julius Caesar. I can imagine González on a platform defending one thing and the opposite among the masses. But I doubt he resorted to anything as low as at the end of Mark Antony’s speech. He tells the people: “Caesar loved you and that is why he left denarii in his will for you, the people of Rome.” In other words, once the essential and realistic ‘what about mine?’ is satisfied, the rest are conveniently decorated lies. Oh, social justice, the vulnerable poor. They don’t give a shit about you.
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