How could the Spaniards die then!

(Reminder) Make your vote a sayo.

(The Valley) Shortly before he died unexpectedly, in the late nineties, my father said, "I'm going to leave this world now that it's getting so interesting." His interest in living was not enough to avoid death, although who knows if it extended his life. I thought back to his comment the other afternoon when my friend Roger Corcho sent me a graph of a wonderful truthful beauty that reflected the death rate recorded in Spain between

1900 and 2021. Corcho is preparing an essential book about the lies of the pandemic: political, scientific and health. When he sent the chart he told me to pay attention to the peaks. At first glance, the sinister Everest of 1918 stands out, where the rate of deaths per thousand inhabitants was 33.1 and the mountain range of corpses of the Civil War, with the peak of 1938 (19.18), which extends over five years. The other peak that stands out in the 121 years is that of 2020: the most tragic year of the pandemic left a rate of 10.41 dead. Cork understandably wrote to me: "

". For many reasons.

The first general observation, peaks aside, is that the graph shows a sustained, shocking decline between 1900 and 1952. You can see how life improves day by day to the opprobrium of the pessimists who never saw the grass grow. In 1952 an important symbolic event took place: the mortality rate fell below 10 (9.6). And it is precisely that limit that remains unexceeded – even with the dangerous flu years of 1956 and 1957 – until the pandemic peak of 2021. The second striking observation is that once it falls below 10, in 1952, the slope stops and death settles in Spain to a relative plateau, where it remains. The drawing from 1900 to 1952 has little to do, in this sense, with the one that goes from 1952 to 2021. A vertical line versus a horizontal line. In the overall picture are epidemics, infant mortality and war, and other less visible, but significant traces, such as economic development, the impact of penicillin, traffic accidents, drugs and AIDS.

I was already going to leave it and thank Roger for sending when I noticed a short valley of statistics, but remarkably deep. It was in the plateau area and was well appreciated when putting the image in panoramic mode. Out of curiosity I began to write down the year and rate of each of the six segments of the valley. The first was from 1977 (8.1). The important novelty was in the second (7.89): for the first time the death registered in Spain was valued at 7. And the best: in the 7 continued in successive years. In 1982 the valley reached the highest fertility in history: 7.57. The headline is for the one who works it, who can doubt it: "

".

the news, for a boy of the twentieth century. Then there was, in the subtitles, the interesting contemporary possibility that the President of the Government declared undaunted in any of his final rallies: "As soon as he arrived at the Government, in 1982, the Socialists managed to lower the mortality rate to levels never seen before." It would have been an ambitious statement, because the elections were won in October. And certainly biased because in 1985, after two years of socialist government, the rate had again reached 8. Since 1985, Spain's death rate has not dropped below 8. Four decades have passed. It's weird. I have no scientific explanation for the valley of the Transition, other than that of chance. Such a short series, moreover, is of little importance. But let's see if I'm going to be the only man in Spain who refrains from claiming poetic justice. That's when I thought of my father. Life had gotten interesting. The reason, of course, was the uncovering, a key word. Life uncovered. Uncovered Francoism, and the curiosity that inspired him to see the bottom of the septic tank; and uncovered the bodies of the women, and for three glorious decades, until the bowl of nuns began to serve the boba soup. How could the Spaniards die then!

. Yes, what you call the regime of '78.

(Tupper sex) Sex, body, boxing. A plea against the reactionary left (

Verbum

of

and

, bears a dedication that reads: "For

, with the admiration of philosophers, because truth is always a provocation." I do not cite it for what is usually called a conflict of interest, that acceptance of the low and humiliating doctrine of Caesar's wife, which establishes the impossibility of telling the truth when it goes in your favor. If I quote the dedication it is out of pride. The essay, short and deep, as it should be, complies with the style clause that

-that shares cover with

and the luminous of a

- prescribed to literature:

. The book has 10 essays – whether to say with the diminutive Ferlosian, so ironic if one thinks that it had to be embedded in the rigid brevity of the journalistic columns – and all deal with the body. Especially on the body of the Virgin Mary - any woman assertive with our time is a virgin - sacralized to such an extent that there has been no time when the woman could dispose less of her body, in itself and by itself considered, hegelito. The book also deals in a logical subsidiary way with its negative, which is the body of man. I find no better way to explain what is happening today with the ethical trade of the sexes than this paragraph inserted after alluding to the cult of the sexes.

: "There is no

Male.

. Far from being a test of sexual health, modernity or freedom, the use of such toys by a man, especially if he does it alone, is qualified as a perversion, as a pathology, as a proof of vice or insufficiency, if not of mere inability to find sexual partners. This unequal treatment has another astonishing example, and already very prolonged in time: the circumspection with which the

Media speaks (in the brief moments in which he speaks) of the drug that has changed the lives of aging men in a more radical way and that only enjoys an episodic glow in the newspapers when it can be associated with the vents of any titoberni.

I have some disagreement with what the authors write about the death penalty, especially since they pick up on this argument of

, apropos of

: "It is legitimate for a society to decide that it no longer wishes to share land with someone."

, the kind of arguments that the authors rightly describe a few lines before as "argumentatively poor, superficial, fickle". There is no doubt that from the pragmatic point of view that they so often invoke, a living (although guarded) scoundrel is much more useful for humanity than a dead one.

Ujaldón holds a position in the Government of the PP of the region of Murcia and Galindo is a university professor in the city. I deduce, though only deduce, that they have good relations with the Conservative party.

that the authors deal with, and that are the main political – that is, cultural – issues of the time. Hence, this little book is an urgent and intelligible doxa for that party dismembered of all ideas. In case he governs and, above all, so that he governs.

(Won on May 27, at 14:45 p.m., contemplating the end of an era, that is, that of naïve Google searches, convinced that Created Intelligence will immediately increase my good life expectancy, a concept that must be radically separated from gross life expectancy)