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When

Francisco Franco

was deposited in his new tomb in Mingorrubio, he turned to his wife, who had been waiting for him for years, and warned him: "Don't get your hopes up that this isn't over."

And indeed, a pandemic later the Spanish left returns to the basement of its complexes to box with the specter that placidly vanished into a bed.

This Franco was a short guy, so he never suspected that dead could cast a shadow as long as the one he cast alive.

Of course, in politics, as in cinema, the effect depends on who handles the focus, which in this case is the PSOE, formerly a political party and today the leading national producer of media illusionism at the service of its gallant hole.

Will it work this time?

Unemployment queues say hard.

Marx

taught us that the political conscience depends on the social being: the sanchista conscience only sustains itself as long as it distributes dividends, positions, pay, European manna.

With the salary frozen or the pension shivering by the cuts, the propaganda is not the same.

From the tail of the strike caused by the most blind and sloppy management in Europe, the militant ardor has greatly tempered.

That is why I suspect that the reprogrammers of the eternal Franco-Sánchez fight do not expect to make a big bag, but to provoke Vox enough to get him into the face.

And that in the reptilian brain of the social democrat who began to desert in disgust the mythological panic of the alternative is activated.

You tighten the ranks, the dead to the hole and the living to the cast.

While the Bank of Spain and the hospitals take turns in the prophecy of the apocalypse, the hemicycle is still absorbed in the turns of its magic lantern.

A

Sánchez

only cares that

Casado

sit with him to divide the cards of the CGPJ, and pull the

Kitchen

to head to married until you do.

Casado has arguments to defend himself, from the obviousness that he is as responsible for the

Kitchen

as Sánchez of

the EREs

to the rude parapet of the

Delgado

recruit

.

He is the first prosecutor to become a nightclub doorkeeper, specifically the Moncloa psychotropic gambling den: he does not let in those who are not on the (socialist) list, he does not let out compromising images and warns of raids.

Cuca Gamarra

says the same as Casado, only later and worse.

Arrimadas

portrays Sánchez's cynicism with the investigation commissions -the PP yes, Podemos no- and Sánchez responds by begging the intercession of Cs before Casado for the CGPJ stickers, which is like asking the priest to bless the puticlub.

And

Pablo Iglesias

withdraws

Macarena Olona

from the fascist treatment to call her "the same old right", which in Iglesias' mind is much worse.

It will be because fascism after all is as revolutionary a movement as communism.

Or is it because Podemos is concerned about Vox's unionist turn, which appeals to the nativist working class with cunning.

The only thing missing is credibility.

We are not old enough to be anarchists, but seeing the spectacle and the contagion figures of the

Simón

hot air balloon

, it is time to assume that political power will not help us in this dark hour.

It is not even possible to ask them, like

Di Stéfano

, to at least not put the balls that go outside inside.

We are definitely the country of goals in our own right.

According to the criteria of The Trust Project

Know more

  • Vox

  • General Council of the Judiciary

  • We can

  • Macarena Olona

  • Pablo Iglesias

  • PSOE

  • PP

  • Cuca Gamarra

  • Citizens

  • Congress of Deputies

ColumnistsThe country of own goals

AnalysisCayetana, the defeat of regenerationism

EditorialCasado reiterates its commitments

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