Guide to the Perfect Spanish Idiot

Latin American, actually, but you could have fooled me. Apparently (via), according to Mendoza/Montaner/Llosa:

The perfect idiot’s political tutelage included, in addition to connivings and resentments, a mixture of the most varied and confusing ingredients. First, of course, there is a lot of the Marxist vulgate from his university years. In those years, various introductory-level Marxist brochures and leaflets provided him with a simple and complete explanation of the world and history. All was duly explained as class struggle. History advanced according to a preordained script (from slavery to feudalism to capitalism and then socialism, the threshold of a truly egalitarian society). Those guilty of our countries’ poverty and backwardness were two disastrous allies: the bourgeoise [once upon a time Sancho would have been able to copy bourgeoisie correctly] and imperialism. Such ideas of historic materialism provided him a stew in which he could later brew up a strange mixture of Third World theses, outbreaks of nationalism and populist demagogy, and one vehement reference or another to compassion, almost always comically quoted from some emblematic strongman of his country.

Catalan Left Idiocy is slightly different from its Latin American neo-Peronist buddy: it resolutely avoids contact with, or mention of, the local underclass, preferring all-expenses-paid mercy safaris to Africa over l’Hospitalet.

Speaking of which, met ecocommie philanderer Joan Saura in the supermarket last night, but didn’t see whether his spa water was Gracia tap or ¡immorally! transvased or otherwise transported from over the hills and far away.

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  1. Didn’t know Saura was a philanderer. What’s the story? Are he and Chemical Imma going to split up?

  2. I don’t follow the scene, but apparently he was off shagging some young thing. Then came denials that they were breaking up and mutual avoidance during election shindigs. I guess they’ve agreed to do a Bill ‘n Hillary and keep a lid on it for the sake of their salaries.

  3. That would explain a Gracia friend of mine who sits on some council there recounting Chemical Imma’s wandering upper thigh-groping mitt. He described it as “and look at me dude, she must do it to anyone and everyone.”

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