Radiating Hispanicity from the center of the center of Spain ―We don’t know why we use the plural―, a heart that beats under the flag of Columbus, without fear of accusations of localism, because our project is neo-imperial, cosmopolitan and patriotic ―¿cosmoperial?, ¿patriolite?, ¿neotriot? -, we broadcast in perfect deferred tribute to Cospedal and we admired Isabel’s adventures in the United States, as Tintin in the Congo, What Asterix in Hispania. His aura expands with an ultramarine effect. Isabel Díaz Ayuso, Marianne without a Phrygian cap, makes the Americas from above and from above, in the land of opportunities and poor whites. Take to the skies, having underlined the exemplary nature of amassing capital before thirty as proof of worth – never corruption – and savoring the sure success of the musical about Hernán Cortés that will rehabilitate our essences. Indians will work with loincloths before running off to peel potatoes in restaurants that pay them in black: the musical, which we would classify as pharaonic if pharaonic were not a word reminiscent of a small and foreign, will include scenes with burly Spanish soldiers and warriors who will teach the Little Jesus of my life to the ragged Aztecs. Isabel, brave, puts the points on the I’s to the Pope and to the mother, because what is done breast and forgiveness is not part of her vocabulary. Perhaps due to the imperative of a picky interculturality, some menas “Beds? Semites? Berbers?” They are part of the choir. The names of tenors affected by the contemporary excess of sexual scrupulosity are considered as candidates for the protagonist. Telemadrid films the Elizabethan adventures using the White House in the background: a prophecy perhaps of an empire, without the capacity for conciliation or synthesis, where the sun never sets or viruses or Quechua or the deep voice of Mercedes Sosa exist.
From here, radiating Hispanicity and gerunds from the beginning of the paragraph, on a popular terrace for five euros a cane, because here we do know how to live and we can give lessons, soon we will also give faith – yes, faith – of how the president reformulates the acrobatic sauce Caleña and, at the University of Buenos Aires, clarifies the concept of “derealization” of Josefina Ludmer. Meanwhile, his minions cross out words like “racism” and “restitution” of exhibitions on Hispanidad 2021. Isabel, pan-Hispanic terminal of doubts, will invite the Chilean population to stop shit and jerks, and will mark the architectural lines of the cholets del Alto in Bolivia. The president is right: “Indigenism is the new communism.” She measures well the evil inflicted on progress and the accumulation of capital by indigenous communities that refuse to log. We emit canned applause and toast our president who knows the forms of organization around the common of some of these extremely dangerous peoples. Because ours is better and we have done everything for the good of others. Because we don’t give a damn about them – we speak in silver and Christian – Bartolomé de las Casas, postcolonial studies and Huasipungo. Because we are the best and, when we give a host, in a straight and figurative sense, it is not for the gold, but for your well-being. With the sign of the Holy Cross and from the heart of Spain for the whole of Hispanidad, we broadcast without complexes and with complete freedom.
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