JR Alonso de la Torre: Milei’s chuchín

I’m sitting with the newspaper on the terrace of a bar in my neighborhood. At the next table, an old woman with her little dog. An octogenarian arrives and greets with a brandy voice: “Here you are like every day, Chocholoco.” I flinch, but The woman in question does not flinch and encourages her dog to say hello. The mutt barks more politely than the gentleman. Having overcome the trauma of the mental-vaginal disturbance, I continue reading until another lady appears with another dog and another brutal greeting resounds: “Hello, so-and-so, increasingly greedy and shameless.” I turn around surreptitiously. I understand the glutton because the octogenarian eats a tapa of bofera blood sausage. The shameless thing is clarified by him when he returns the greeting: “You know, little girl, when I get drunk, I treat my wife as you and you as a whore.”

Seriously overwhelmed, I can’t continue reading, but Chocholoco, Tragón and Fulana seem happy and start talking about what they call “their sweets.” So fine with dogs, so beasts with people. “Pretty thing, say hello to your little friend,” the lady with disturbed psychovaginal faculties orders her dog. “What a furry one!” the blood sausage devourer praises the spectacular carding of Doña Fulana’s mutt. “He’s going to a wedding and he’s so conceited,” she clarifies.

Once the flattery has been exhausted, Don Tragón resorts to sayings: “It’s nice to see them, I think that animals are often better than people.” “And you can say it,” I think to myself and I remember that this weekend President Milei was here, who also says atrocious things about people, but loves his dog so much that he talks to him even though he is dead. Don Tragón is definitely right.

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