There are music and lyrics that resonate in your head, in your memory, in your feelings after a long time. I remain obsessed, remembering definitely dark times, the one that the junkie and admirable author Manolo Tena proclaimed: “And you ask me what’s wrong with you / and I no longer know what to answer. “Could it be that the cat has died / since you left.” And so. Final questions, self-destructive but also very lyrical. And this song moves me, like so many others since in my daily life I try to face the lack of communication from the media. In it I hear defenses or apologies at all hours, well-paid I imagine, in terms that end in ism. Also an abusive and cynical perseverance in what the word democracy now means. And the mud thing, a permanent string proposed by an imaginative image consultant, is grotesque. Not even the dumbest screenwriter, who specializes in distinguishing the good guys from the bad, would think of that concept so falsely used. Everything stinks. It’s a very poor farce, but apparently effective.
And I admit, even though I am repulsed by their profession, to the caste of mercenaries. If they are effective in matters of war, I understand the survival of their payroll, even increased in the name of the common good. They would survive with one or the other, with those who assure you a sweet future. And of course I hate fanatics, they cause me the same revulsion as the self-righteous installers.
Unfortunately for me, since I was little, I have only been where I could be. I have not evolved and now I pay for it in my old age in not ideological terms, but rather material ones. I have seen many people change or adapt to power. In the name, what a laugh, of a less unjust world. When I was young I was tempted to sign up for that fatuous thing. The smartest of them are installed. And determined to define the good and the bad. Now I must be one of the bad guys. I mean, as always.
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