ITALY MY VENTURE

 

I don't feel like writing. I got cocky. The lofty discouragement that is wreaking havoc in my soul monopolizes me, but today I have no other choice but to go from the phrase go to boost my morale to the sentence pronounced by our soldiers of the Old Tercios:

Spain my nature, Italy my fortune and Flanders my grave.

To all this, the commotion that has raised the triumph of Giorgia Meloni in the Italian elections against which our pens, our chatterboxes, the little dissertating people who act as opinion commissioners rant and execrate. Here they call Russia a lack of freedom of information, but I, a Spanish journalist with more than half a century on the job, have to shout against such a gargantuan lie, because in my country the right to inform and give opinions, write, publish, tell stories is the privilege of a few ready tributaries of the caudillo Soros.

So I cry out against the "Nazi Zionist fascism" that represents in Spain a return of the Inquisition and today at the cost of this triumph of what they call with much sarcasm and contempt "ultra-right" they were inflamed.

 The fascist Alsina from Onda Zero shouted to the heavens, the Canarian Ester with a loaf face made a thousand fusses and interpretations. The girl from SER, a certain Angelines Barceló, the resounding Catalan, woke us up by launching a long-range missile against this beautiful Italian who has made the bigwigs of half of Europe nervous. They fear losing the sinecure, the loan, the bargain, the beach bar. From there is born their fascist and anti-democratic hatred against those who do not submit to the secular Judaic yoke.

Meloni opening the box of thunder has uncovered the wounds of a sick Europe that is poorer, more ruined, older and less free than ever, being so that in its day it was the homeland of humanism and freedom and now it is governed by the gnomes of Brussels.

They dismantled our industry, they closed the mines, they left our fertile fields dry, they closed the dairy farms, they created unemployment and an Erasmus scholarship for our children, they proclaim racial feminism, every day more women die, there are more uxoricides and infanticides. His protean and synagogue Flanders becomes our grave. Brussels is the place where the enemy lives, but Italy is for the Spaniards freedom and the joy of living.

What does this nervousness mean? That the Europe of the merchants is in a deep crisis and that soon it may end like the rosary of dawn to the disgrace and rage of the globalists. Italy, however, represents hope, beauty, songs, Bocaccio, El Dante, Chianti, the Ferraris, Sofia Loren, Alfredo Mastroiani. Those nights of Cabiria. The beautiful tapes of Totó and Aldo Fabrizzi.

 It is what encocora the illustrious. The triumph of the right in Lazio is a sign that Putin is winning the war.

 

Tuesday, September 27, 2022