Today’s column would be about the viting treatment that Save me has given the umpteenth attempt by the Biondo family to prove that Mario (Raquel Sánchez Silva’s late husband) did not commit suicide. A mannequin, a medical expert (not a forensic doctor) and a group of people who every day give so-called moral lessons. And this text deals with morality, feminism, lesbophobia, aporophobia and dyscaiphobia. Next, I expose some scenes seen in Save me:
Live layoffs. Forcing a female employee to clean the men’s room as if it were an indignity. Taking a lesbian out of the closet by force. Sign a presenter and broadcast a video with her infidelities. Corner a guest in the bathroom and make her come out using a toilet brush (no props). Ridiculing a journalist for her wind after lunch (she on set) Follow a woman with an anxiety attack to the infirmary with the cameras. Disguise and stand up a person with a broken leg to see how long it can hold. Make someone believe that they are demolishing their home. Ridiculing an Alzheimer’s patient in front of her daughter. Visiting the home of a person who has given a suicide notice to ridicule him from the telephone. Go to the place of a disaster (La Palma) looking for someone with a tragedy to tell. Forcing an employee with a phobia of cockroaches to keep her head inside a glass box in which there are hundreds of these insects.
I don’t know what debts – or what kind of debts – the program’s collaborators will have to endure this, but if something is clear to me it is that neither Jorge Javier, nor Carlota Corredera, nor David Valldeperas are neither red nor left-wing. They are not right-wing either. “These people are rabble”, as Chabeli Iglesias said. As are all those who encourage and allow these atrocities to be aired.
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