A baboon gropes its way towards the president of Mexico, its alcoholic claw towards her torso and its drugged snout almost licking her neck. Comments focus on discussing whether it was set up as a political smokescreen; or, the excessive salivation over the president’s personal safety and the key issue remains until the end: at least in Mexico (whether on the sidewalk, in the bedroom or on any form of public transport) every woman is exposed to harassment and even violations of her body.
The President of the United States of America is asked for his opinion on the unfortunate situation in which a former Prince of England has fallen due to the confirmation of his depraved fun with at least one minor and the already proven imbecile President says he regrets the sadness and pain of the British Royal Family (!), but avoids any manifestation of guilt or condescension towards the thousands of child victims who he himself knows have been enslaved and raped in a swarm orchestrated by one of his best friends ever.
A mayor of Michoacán walks through a wasteland of candles lit for the Day of the Dead, without knowing that the Llano en Llamas is already something much bloodier than a handful of stories. The last images of that man alive immortalize his son embraced, without knowing that he is saying goodbye to him forever… and then the shots ring out that kill the mayor. The mass of responses to the event move away from any requiem or mourning and focus on examining whether the man was ideologically opposed to the ruling regime, whether the discontent of the affected citizens is “organic or otherwise,” or whether we should exercise unfettered and untainted respect for the human rights of murderers or members of organized crime. No one remembers the child in her arms.
A senator of the Republic asks for permission to travel to Palestine invited by anonymous altruists from Saudi Arabia. The trip is to escape the shameful scandals that reveal him not as a legislator of the democratic struggle, but as a vile imposed loan shark and a fifth-class nouveau riche, without explaining how he can make his trip public since it is illegal to receive gifts as a Mexican senator and, better yet, how to explain to a sheik that he travels accompanied by kisses from his boyfriend in a shared bed, knowing that the boarding passes would be financed by an emirate fiercely opposed to the rainbow flag. Better yet: He hasn’t even made it to Palestine (except for the hotel bet) and is drooling back to Mexico to add to his delusional diatribes.
The Mexican football league successfully destroys a functional rot between obsolete scenarios and a massive condescending complicity with mediocrity and simulation. However, we all sign off as sycophants Trumpism shameless act of FIFA, the brutality of the disorganization and the placebo with which the immense white elephant once called Estadio Azteca is painted… when on the pitches, where the ball rolls, even the names of the players are diluted.
All this, as a sign that the world is once again upside down and that what is important is relegated or subordinated to what is circumstantial. We no longer live not only in the empire of lies but also in the continuous avalanche of stupidity, and the minimum advice would be to go every three days to any prestigious taqueria where they serve hot taco de Cabeza.
