Tuesday was a sad day, Franco Battiato died. A brilliant madman who with his poetry elevates us above meanness. Just that day Ceuta happened and it was even sadder. We all saw the images in awe, babies floating in the water, kids crying on the beach. You could say many things, but two leaders of the right opted for the stupidest one, and it was already very sad. Pablo Casado: “The Government has to act to preserve national sovereignty in a Spanish city like Ceuta, which has been flying our flag for 600 years.” Iván Espinosa de los Monteros: “Spain is under attack. A foreign nation has committed an authentic invasion violating our borders with a very clear purpose, to invade Spain ”. Really? But what do these people have for breakfast, krispis with bleach? This dangerous enemy column of children and the hungry would have kissed, and even sworn, the flag of Spain if they showed it to them. These guardians of sovereignty stir fear and hatred as if shaking a Sovereign glass while smoking a cigar, they are brandy patriots. When they pull repertoire they always go to the 19th century, or beyond. But man, after many things have happened, the contemporary world, have invented color TV, Franco Battiato himself, a renovator of pop. We of the eighties are no longer the same, but those with 20 years would already be old. To these heroes of scruples, the only integrity that should sound to them was territorial (although Casado confused Harvard with Aravaca), because they gave one a master’s degree and another passed the law through the lining in real estate balls. Battiato used to sing that we are children of the stars, but there is also some cross between a white dwarf and a hake. You cannot say this nonsense the day Battiato dies, these people should not listen to his records. What music do they hear, what poetry do they read? This is how the level of nonsense that can be said goes down a little every day and they already seem normal.
It makes you want to take them by the ears to Ceuta, give them a rifle and see if, at the sight of the enemy, these poor starving people begin to shoot or take away their foolishness and start helping out like a serious soldier. Although I do not even know if they have done the military. Povera homeland, a song from the teacher, speaks of some politicians, “infamous people who do not know what modesty is”: “Perfect and useless buffoons / This country devastated by pain / Don’t they give you a little displeasure / those bodies on land without heat?”. Poor country, what foolish things are said in your name. Rather, one felt proud of being Spanish seeing civil guards saving human beings, a Red Cross volunteer comforting them in her arms. How’s the service, some thought. That 20-year-old woman was beaten on social networks and had to close them. For a hug. Poor country if it depends on these brave thugs.
One of the most worrying problems of the Spanish right, and therefore of all, is their departure from Christian values, you no longer know what they believe in. The Church should evangelize them, make the right-wing trolls read the song of songs every day, send missionaries to Vox rallies, to the PP committees, before they speak without the slightest sense of compassion for others. Once I was in Morocco with some Spanish nuns who helped these disinherited people who survive in the mountains among a thousand difficulties, waiting to jump over the fence. They were very clear about who the good guys and the bad guys were. Dear friend, cross the gravitational currents and take care of us, wherever you are. Long live Franco, but Franco Battiato.