Ancelotti’s Madrid, which had been a corpse for months, has taken eight days of vacation to get back on track towards an insane January slope, with nine games of all colors (Champions, League, Copa del Rey, Spanish Super Cup Spain…) to compete in exotic countries, such as the Arabia of Lawrence Rubiales, who wanted to be our Elon Musk, whom he imitated by taking the Spanish Super Cup to the Arab desert, since he could not take it to the desert of Mars, where it will be played one day, if Musk finally manages to set up his online rocket service Earth-Mars, Blue Planet-Red Planet, that science fiction anticipated by the alluvial communist Yolanda Díaz, who vice-president of our government of progress: “Immensely rich people have rockets to escape from the Earth.” With fourteen players, which are what Ancelotti has (that’s what he said at a press conference), the time has come to throw at least the Cup and Super Cup, which does not add up, and if necessary, also the Domestic League, whose absurd wear and tear would jeopardize the dispute of the Ceferino Champions League and the Infantino World Cup, well, with Real Madrid at stake, there is nothing that scares more than the possibility of making a small version of greatness. What greatness is there going to be in the Super Cup, a spectacle created by Rubiales and Piqué? They would tell Piqué that he is a Dalí of advertising, and he believed it. In New York, Dalí designed an advertising montage for a department store: a crazy window display with a lady’s dress labeled ‘Widower’s Crab Skin Coat’, a gentleman’s hat with live fish, another lady’s hat made with superimposed buns of ox tails, an electric heater “to fry asparagus”… plus the absurdity of a final contractual clause by which the company was bound, every day and at the busiest hour in the Fifth Avenue, to a hired hooligan breaking the glass window with a club, cursing the three “bes”: -The Bourgeoisie, the Bank and the Balaan Donkey. We don’t talk nonsense, and the proof is that the footballers have already learned to shining a light on dementia with the business of charging for the joy of goals, registering the intellectual property of the celebrations. In Spain, as is known, the Intellectual Property law was drafted by the republican generation of Castelar, the tribune who gives name to the prize that the pot magazines in Parliament have awarded to Rufián’s fanegas, a sandio of our first industry. national, which is politics. MORE INFORMATION news Yes The last wise man news Yes Christmas Eve 2024 news Yes Beauty and the best news Yes The Atalanta fireThe first suspicions came to us from the hand of Dani Olmo, the Barcelona footballer, who raised his desire to notarize his celebratory number consisting of a gesture of pointing to an imaginary clock, which would not be a Dalinian clock, but rather a traditional clock, like Enrique Busián . In the culé culture there is no rest, and if the footballer cannot be registered in the League for a reason, get rid of those ‘fair play’ straws, his ‘sketch’ of the wig is registered with the notary to sign his goals. Signature goals! In England, “the old fox” of León Felipe, the winger Cole Palmer has run to the United Kingdom Intellectual Property Office to register his celebration of ‘cold’, a way of making the potato like any other. That boy had a bad time in the Euro Cup, when Southgate’s hake had him on the bench, where he surely engineered these bench-leg exits. But Palmer is a star signed by Chelsea, while Olmo is not allowed to be signed by Barcelona, which could take advantage of April Fool’s Day to register the player. Let us remember Pla’s notes: “This is a land of the distrustful, of the ancestral distrustful, of the twisted, of people convinced that everything can be done here by adopting the air of the bell ringer when he comes to collect the church chairs.” This is the club, according to what we heard from Roures, that paid for Cruyff’s ‘Dream Team’ with public TV money.
#Ignacio #RuizQuintano #January #slope
