FERNANDO ARAMBURU

The wicked Heinrich Kissinger has just kicked the bucket and I put in black and white those words of the anonymous copyist of the Emilianense chronicle about Almanzor and the terror of the year 1000 "Almanzor died and lies in hell." Kissinger, however, has been much more deleterious to what Christian culture represents than Nixon's former Secretary of State. It was the terror of the second millennium. As it is, I enjoy reading Fernando Aramburu, for me one of the best novelists of the baby bottle generation, after mine, who shines like a pearl in the dunghill in the midst of so many common writers. Discreet, hard-working, chaste, who polishes his writings with the same tenacity with which his father worked as a turner in a factory in Bella Easo. “Fernando Aramburu. The letters ajar” is read in one breath. One of his novels about terrorism in Vasconia was a best seller a few years ago. It is the discretion, honesty and sympathy and cachaça of Pio Baroja in the flesh. He has been a teacher in Germany. Like I was in England and that opens your eyes and makes you look at the things of the country with perspective, more than five decades From his home in Hannover he writes his novels and articles of literary criticism about this arduous profession in which many of us resist against all odds. Aramburu has to pay homage to the victims of the Holocaust, which is an article of faith in the German country. If you deny it you end up behind the bars of the new Jewish inquisition. However, in one of his deliveries they miss something that will displease the commissioners who monitor the World Cup pile. He is the one who dedicated Walter Reich to Ranicli, the master of German literature. I also followed some of the satellite broadcasts. Book that he didn't like he would throw into the pool. And one of the authors that this Polish Jew preferred to send to the gulags of his literary preferences was Gunther Grass. I always threw Gunther Grass in the trash can. He intended that his tin drum would no longer sound, but Grass's tin drums continue to sound, to the humiliation and disgust of Herr Reich, the most pro-bangerist and anti-literary critic that history has ever known. The dead of the KZ lager do not have a name but the almost twenty thousand Palestinian children devoured by the ogre Benjamin, the long-eared one, do and every day he appears with his relentless war machinery crushing Palestinians under the chains of the Merkava wheels. Even Netanyahu, this bloodthirsty fascist, has the audacity to tell Putin to send help to bury the dead. He gave them obols, milk, aspirin and tents after having pulled the Russian leader's ears for not having been smart in not condoning his final action in Gaza. Nor do what he wanted. The Jews rule. They do whatever they want, they wipe their asses with UN resolutions, which is toilet paper for them. The simile that Aramburu draws in his book about the Jewish master of Spanish literature must be applied in Europe to other areas: governments. The economy, medicine, social services, education, religion, Christianity is over because Culo Magno belongs to the Sanhedrin. They control everything, above all they control the information and the history with which they brainwash us every hour. Their news programs bring to mind jesses and shackles. We are his slaves. Trummer Literature. Demolition literature. Our thoughts and feelings are also in ruins. We sold our soul to the synagogue