Lodz was abandoned. Everything he had learned in Hillel's school was outlawed, and the class struggle was replaced by a struggle between the sexes. Control of the means of production will give way to control of the means of communication, a field in which itinerant people have proven to be extremely adept. Death to geniuses is above mediocrity. Transition into ignorance and eternal death to cultural and cultivators of aesthetics and fine arts. A throne for everything vulgar. Let us burn incense before the altar of the golden calf, and the rest - porcelain.

 Everything will become secular, worldly. To the fire with mysticism. In Spain, Franco dies and comes Bourbon, a new version of Pepe Botellas that produced birdseed you can't see, and on one of those tours and elephant hunting tinged with alcohol orgies, he let his guard down on the stairs. out of the hut, and to have as Prime Minister a certain Mr. Boot, who had on his forehead the seal of the seven marks of bastard. The troubled look in the New York grocer's eyes was an ill omen of the collapse of everything I loved and believed in.

The real and authentic will be replaced by a substitute: coffee instead of chicory, jabugo instead of York ham. "War and Peace" based on soap operas by Vargas Llosa and Picasso will take the throne of Velázquez. They would ban Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker in order to fill the youth with cacophonous shrillness. full throttle rock

 God, if he existed, would be going to write in different letters, starting with and would send to the slaughter many intellectuals, thinkers, writers, filmmakers, artists. The ill-mannered Vargas Llosa, who trained as a cadet at an obscure military academy in Peru, had not yet come to the fore, but in those restless eyes of that Jew who looked as if with a desire to dominate the world, surrounded by those disturbing books of Kafka warned that we would turn into cockroaches. What was given is over. In exchange for a plate of lentils (progress), they doom us to metamorphosis.

 The lesson for me as a Christian couldn't be more bitter, but Baroj kept thinking that the Nazarene was nothing more than an impostor, his craft, a Jewish myth designed to end the Roman Empire. Behind the pen that wrote the gospels, the epistles of Paul, and even the Book of Revelation, the laughter of Israel sounded like inside a foolish and violent box. These giggles seemed sacrilegious to me, as sacrilegious are the microphone giggles marked by this fascist and oracle who speaks for Intereconomy Eduardo García Serrano, the son of who was my boss. Hehehehe. The matter is too serious to be taken as a joke, they just want to turn us into cockroaches.

Mr. Waldbaum looked thoughtfully, as if reflecting on the paradoxes and absurdities of fate. "After all, I'm human and therefore fallible... Art is long, life is short, and nothing is what it seems," he seemed to mean with his eyes. He then played cards with his fellow ghetto retirees. About half past two, Sarah, his wife, brought him lunch in a small tartlet, a classic "borscht" with lots of eggplant, but no bacon or halufo. Sarah was a matron with a kind face, flesh and toe-length skirts. I was like my grandmother. It may have been torn from a Bashevis Singer novel. Tall and mustachioed, wearing a wig without any bandage. No frills (No frills), as they used to say.

She also smelled of a Jew, the smell of old meat, of tired humanity, unmistakably.

Once I had the audacity to ask him:

- Sarah, when we die, where will they take us?

The woman blushed and, after a little hesitation, turned the question to her husband;

"Ask him," he said in a cold tone marked by subservience as well as harshness. Since the good wives of Israel are not allowed to speak with strangers, especially if they are Gentiles (goyim).

- Scripture, - he answered, - says that the righteous will be destined for the Bosom of Abraham. Lukewarm in limbo or in purgatory until they atone for their guilt, and to Gehenna (Jewish hell) of all the bad ones, and there in hell they will be roasted in the company of all devils and tailors.

 

(to be continued)