After 50 years of marriage, the wife asked her husband for a divorce. “But, Clotalda,” the gentleman grieved. At the foot of the altar you swore that our union would last until death do us part. “It’s true,” the woman admitted. But I didn’t think you were going to live that long.” (To another husband angrily said the officer of the Civil registration: “I’m not coming anymore, sir. For the last time I repeat that her marriage certificate does not have an expiration date ”).
An individual came to the office of a certain acquaintance doctor. The man walked painfully, doubled over on himself, unable to straighten up. After a brief examination, the doctor began to question him: “A while ago you were in a trance of eroticism with a friend of yours, right?” “That’s right, doctor” -confessed the man, admired by the wisdom of the question. He continued the doctor: “That woman is married, isn’t she?” “It’s true” -confirmed the patient, who was astonished by the insight of the doctor.
He continued: “At the height of the actions, the lady’s husband was heard arriving. I am right?”. “You are right,” declared the visitor, who saw a second Sherlock Holmes in the doctor. He then ruled the doctor: “You have nothing. If it cannot be straightened, it is only because when dressing in the haste with which he did it, he fastened a button of his trousers in a buttonhole of his shirt”.
From the lips of an old man revolutionary I heard a story that if it’s not true it deserves to be. On March 26, 1913, the Guadalupe Plan was signed, by which Don venustian carranza he ignored the spurious government of Victoriano Huerta and began his constitutionalist movement.
The historic event took place on the farm of that name, Guadalupe, owned by Don Marcelino Garza, patriarch of a valued family that has done much good to Coahuila and my city, Saltillo. That veteran told me that on a rustic table -which, by the way, is still preserved- Carranza He put his signature on the document, and then invited those who accompanied him on the cavalcade that he undertook after declaring his rebellion against the usurper to sign it as well.
Among those who were going to sign was a captain. Someone, however, whispered a few words in Don Venustiano’s ear, and he prevented the soldier from affixing his signature. And the fact is that the said captain, the old soldier told me, was Hipólito, apparently with the last name Valdez, the man who killed Rosita Alvírez. The famous corrido saltillero narrates the tragic event.
Rebuffed by the beautiful young woman, who refuses to dance with him, Hipólito shoots him to death. The verses of the song contain a cruel ironic note: “The day they killed her / Rosita was lucky: / out of three shots they gave her / only one was fatal.” I think the first shot was out of anger, the second out of spite, and the third – the fatal one – out of jealousy. “Mine or nobody’s” the murderer must have said in the terms of the consecrated formula. The same seems to be saying López Obrador in relation to the National Electoral Institute.
With stubborn stubbornness, he does not give up his purpose of taking over the organism at any cost. Failed his first two plans, A and B, now perpetrates another, consisting of encysting in the INE to his unconditional people, in order to thus have control of an institution whose spirit is to be free citizens, and which in the hands of the leader of the 4T would become an instrument at the service of his will to power; in an appendage of the State, as it was in the worst times of PRI domination, the disastrous era of Bartlett. Plan A, Plan B, and now Plan C. Will the third shot be the kill?… THE END.
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