The pool
Sanchez insists that it will be green, but his victimism indicates that our future will be like the first smoking
If it were for him, the solideo would be put, without conclave that is worth it, and would blame this democratic degeneration to the Holy Spirit, especially now that he is about to manifest himself by the chimney of the Sistine Chapel. But it is not the paraclite who … presides over Red Eléctrica or the Ministry of Transport. Nor is it his governing partner. The carpetovetonic strip is the work of Pedro Sánchez, pray for action, pray for omission. But the president lives in a tesonero transfer of incompetences. The increase in military spending is the cotton test of its colossal abulence: the great bulge of most progress. Sánchez is only the mouth of an aberrant conciliator formed by communists and independence, a convent in which each one pulls their particular thread to direct the puppet. Sanchismo is not a project, it is an artifact. An amalgam of clandestine powers. Nothing else. However, this unusual alloy format of a government has a propaganda advantage: while the command is diluted in a huge batiburrillo of crossed interests, the responsibility can always be of another. Or nobody. The theft of AVE cables can be a Judeomonic plot or the deceased of copper bandits, but in any case the victim is Sánchez. The blackout has been designed in a gaudeamus of powerful pure smokers or has been a consequence of the danger of nuclear, but the government is only the one affected. Sanchismo is, in all the meaning of the word, strictly irresponsible. And if someone is to blame for something is the Holy Spirit or the ultra -right. We are half a minute that they tell us that the Brotherhood was placed by the third person of the Holy Trinity.
In his homily of the career of San Jerónimo, Sánchez appears again as the injured party, not as the boss. He resembles that attorney of Marcial Lalanda who told his bullfighter in the alley of Nursing: “What a cornada they have given us, teacher.” And the right -hander answered between screams: “Man, mostly me.” The victims of the blackout and the train of the trains are mostly we, who also just submit without grinding our income statement while we analyzed the public salaries of the Mesalinas de Ábalos or of that mayor plugged in the Andalusian faffe that, as is customary in the brotherhood, did not know where his office was. The president insists that Spain will be green or not, a populist slogan that binds to proclamations on the reduction of the working day or salary increases. When the third world appears its head behind the wall of La Moncloa, the propaganda service promises paradises or expands the flat rate of the mobile to the Minister Puente to play ‘online’ to be the cassock of bastos. But neither providence saves this already. With this management, Spain will be like the first smoke of the conclave. As the electricity grid. As the birds stopped on the bird. Or like the bull that killed Manolete. Black nigrica renegrid.
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