The Miguel Ángel Revilla show is one of the great amusements of our time. It has been that way since he established himself for fame as a urinalist chronicler at the current Kings wedding. Revilla was put in position, I do not know if pointing to the spider, and looked sideways with curiosity, as sometimes the indiscreet do in the urinals. Only he did not notice another scale than that of the saber held by the representative in gala uniform of some stale European house. Thus he entered our lives and thus remained, determined from the beginning to convert the anchovy into a new unit of destiny in the universal with which a small region would be asserted, lacking the strength that extortive nationalisms give - the eternal calm allegiance award - but beautiful and full of personality and emblazoned facades. The old Mountain: I will never stop vindicating the gentile "mountaineers".

Intuitively, Revilla understood very soon, before certain politicians more emboldened by the aspiration of hero, two things that the decline of politics transformed forever. That populism changed the way of maintaining a dialogue with The People, because it became more emotional and stopped referring to the brain. And that, in the Italian way -see Silvio-, politics would become the extension of a television reality show where viewers would vote animated by the same reflections of acceptance or rejection as in a contest of people locked up or talents of the song. There is a theory that mamachichos TV, which entered Spain through Telecinco, shaped the collective mentality until that was achieved.

In any case, Revilla, emotional until the dosage of tears, works with what Oscar Wilde called conscience of his own audience and does not allow the reality of his life and adventures to ever decline. To what extent this is clear, he reveals it, not that he reconvened the waiter who insulted the President of the Government, but that he understood that this plot could still be used a little more. Therefore, accompanied by the cameras in a timely manner, he returned the next day to the same bar as a Karras father who had to practice an exorcism after having heard of a demonic possession in the Cantabrian Eden that he guards as an unlikely guardian in the rye. It was not the waiter who seemed unworthy to live in Cantabria, "the kind region that I sell," was the demon that had gotten inside him and insulted presidents in Aramaic: "Look what your dirty advisor's dirty man has done. .. " That's why he ventured inside the bar to fulfill his healing mission. When he returned, exhausted, consumed by the battle against beings of the underworld, he communicated to the cameras the good news that, in Cantabria, absolute kindness reigned again. The demon was expelled and his involuntary bearer, already released, burst into tears of gratitude and regret. Write down because this counts as a miracle in a possible beatification process.

The truth is that the motherfucker addressed to the president of the Government was very unpleasant, of a baseness that made him look as tempted for a moment to react as Cantona. The fact that he was uttered by a single guy who played as an energumer without political scenography reveals the immense violent vulgarity of something that this time has related to popular "empowerment": the escrache, the mass insults that Pablo Iglesias called "democratic syrup" and that, when they are orchestrated in Basque nationalist villages or in universities where democratic candidates are covered with saliva, they come to pass through a legitimate response to a provocation. To exist in other terms.

According to the criteria of The Trust Project

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  • Cantabria
  • Spain
  • Michelangelo Revilla
  • Pablo Iglesias
  • Telecinco
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