Goodbye Mariano

  Often the inability of people in public office to resign is criticized in Spain. Pressed by the allegations, accusations, blackmail or dissatisfaction, they prefer to continue in their positions through thick and thin. Didn´t that poet say that a rested life of one who flees from the noise? I repeat that to myself every morning. But politicians, as bullfighters and Alejandro Sanz music lovers, must be made of tougher stuff. Don´t think they like to rest. If I were accused of one-tenth of what a politician is accused of, I would only survive eating cookies stuffed with anxiolytics medicine for breakfast. But they go to gala dinners and even feel like eating. Even if red meat is on the menu.

   Boos, petitions to resign, newspaper headlines. Wouldn´t it be easier to resign? People with more knowledge than me (meaning the people) tell me that it´s not. Resigning to the position means resigning to the last parapet. Coming in out of the rain so the beasts can devour you. Living naked in the jungle. In other words, you must be more innocent than a baby to have the foolish courage to resign from public office when beset by problems with the law.
   From the human point of view, I understand. I have the horrible habit to empathize with those who are struggling, although the people going through this are fiction or reality villains. Police surround them, Superman, The Good, the CIA, the envelopes, the cowboys from the Ranch or who knows what other kind creatures. Yet experience shows us that everything is sterile. Dead, finished, terminated, "kaput". More than salmon swimming upriver were death awaits them at the end of their ordeal, they are more like zombies. They're dead but they don´t know it. 

   Rajoy is already a zombie, a vampire, a conservative Nosferatu. Barcenas has killed him and we only need to know when he will get the stake nailed into his heart and who will be able to hang the garlic heads on him. That is why I like to call him Mariano now. So my level of hostility to this character, which has sometimes been near fanaticism (I consider him much more unbearable than Aznar, who at least seems to believe in something and plays paddle) begins to decrease. He seems thin, worn down, faltering, with memory problems typical of those who have been highly exposed to toxic levels of stress.

  As Rick said to Elsa, "you might not regret it today, but you will tomorrow or any other day." Regret what? Of not leaving earlier? Of not saying what was going on, I mean, what are twenty-five thousand Euros for a property registrar? In the good old years, an official notary would earn that in three months. We only need to know now if it's true that someone will come along and do you good. In this case, I doubt it. Adeu Mariano.

 

Spanish version
 

El Señor Gordo

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Translation by Amanda Perri