sábado, 17 de octubre de 2015

What the heck is Tannhauser’s Gate?

The very first time I saw Blade Runner it turned out to be a whole drag. Nevertheless, maybe because Harrison Ford was starring or just because I expected lightsabers to appear from those unconventional umbrella sticks, I resisted until the irresistible ending to discover inside me a dispairing feeling of having failed to appreciate a work of art and a philosophical answer to many of my deep questions.
Perhaps I was too young to reckon the film in its entire value. It was the year 1982 when the movie was released, therefore I must have watched it on TV by 1984 or so. Eleven years old is not, I’m afraid, the best age to see and understand such a complex narrative.

In any case, being much older now, I still think Blade Runner is a descriptive work where almost nothing happens –with the exception of brief action scenes– whose aesthetics is inherited from Metropolis to Star Wars through Star Trek and all the big hits of the science-fiction genre. It lacks the narrative rhythm one would expect from a great futuristic swashbuckling soap opera –and don’t get me wrong, I love Once upon a time in the West, the paradigm of slow motion spaghetti– or the plain dichotomy between good and evil.
In a sense, Blade Runner is a perverted version of Star Wars. Just from the title the audience has a vague notion of the pure heroic main character from George Lucas’s masterpiece, Luke Skywalker. Unlike the Jedi knight, who walks through the big starred black, Blade Runner’s Rick Deckard rushes next to the precipice instead. The last hope Ford represents is covered with a mantle of antiheroism, and brilliant lights and neons appear in Ridley Scott’s film with a layer of filth while the acid rain pervades everything. Characters are ambiguous to death and the pace slows down to film noir detail. Blade Runner is not a sci-fi movie; it’s a hard-boiled detective plot with a voice-over, lights all around and Vangelis soundtrack to add some solemnity.
But it’s not the huge reminiscences of a distorted galaxy far, far away, or the distopian reminder of an Earth phagocyted by its human inhabitants what trapped me forever. It was, like to the average spectator, the ultimate verses from a superb Rutger Hauer / Roy Batty, a soliloquy worthy of the best Shakespeare, an epitaph of a mysterious eternity just scarcely glimpsed.
Any half devotee of Blade Runner would recited the quote parrot-fashion, but for those not so freak so as to remember every single comma, let’s copy and paste them from wikipedia:
“I've... seen things... you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion; I watched c-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate... All those... moments... will be lost, in time, like tears... in... rain. Time... to die.”
These words were not genuine from Hauer; at least, not entirely. He adapted the original script cutting off some redundant and not very related-to-the-topic depictions. The result is, anyway, incontestable. Maybe because of the things they avoid to say rather than what they evoke.
I don’t know you, but I, when hearing those definite regrets, thought of an unseen world of wonder, of pieces to fit in a personal puzzle, of philosophical questions and their impossible answers solved right before me. I had heard of Tannhauser before. It was a blatant double-headed long-tusked imitation of Alien, the eighth passenger on the windowsill of a god-knows-what in the inside of a picture card album. The info was clumpsily developed from Ridley Scott’s film’s Roy Batty’s allusion, but to a child it proved to be imagination-inspiring.
I have sought Tannhauser in many other occasions, reaching nowhere. I have heard of Wagner’s opera but I resist to admit there’s nothing else but a powerful knight or a German poet. If we recall our ancient dreams and desires up to the point of believing them true above the real thing, Tannhauser must be a sort of sacred guardian, whatever extraterrestrial it may be, who prevents mortals to discover the truth beyond the eternal questions of the human existence: Is there anything else? Are we alone in the universe? Is death the end or just a deceiving starting point to infinite worlds, strange beings, wonders we never dare to dream of? Is life a motorway to disappointment? Can imagination prove stronger than sore truth?
Showing more than some verses of an unbound unreality could have been disastrous por the success of the film as a cult movie, since it didn’t earn much in the ticket office, but every fan of Blade Runner is still waiting for something going far beyond Rutger Hauer chant to impossible galaxies, unbelievable creatures and mystic adventures where philosophy would meet for sure the limits of mankind’s plenitude.
As U2 said once and repeat every gig, I still haven’t found what I’m looking for, but Blade Runner showed me –as if it were Lancelot of the Lake glimpsing an existentialist Holy Grail– a flash of eternal wisdom in the shadows of our own  essence. Perhaps we poor humans are not ready for more.

domingo, 30 de agosto de 2015

Bureaucracy overdose

I heard once from a supposedly serious man that “the level of development of a country is directly proportional to its degree of bureaucracy. The more you can label property the more industrialized a society is”.
Bullshit all around! Procedures exist as diseases or taxes do, just to ruin our lives and make us miserable. For one thing they solve they complicate a dozen beyond reason.
One of my most hated is the MOT test. Every year I pass between one and two car inspections to prove my vehicles are in good shape, smoke-free and all that stuff. I don’t care about paying. I accept the formality as the lesser of evils because some people have a right to earn their living checking cars as well. What really annoys me is the process itself. All that “turn on right indicator; now the left; the warnings; back fog light...” I think someone invented that test and the velocity of execution just to make users appear as sheer stupids. A visionary worker anywhere throughout Spain realised it was easier to get the drivers out of the car and do most of the testing by themselves. Not all. We still need to put our foot in it for a while.
Second wonder: the income tax return. This one chases you for a working lifetime. I accept we must contribute to retirement pensions and to unemployment benefits, everybody must look after everybody, but there’s no need to readjust the balance. A well designed tax system would be even and fair, without needing further compensation for or against. The quantity of material and human resources saved would be vast. Moreover, the procedure is not easy for the average man or woman. Sometimes, or most of the times, professional aid is needed: a civil servant from the Treasury, the bank clerk, an expert in legal matters or else. In any case, any mistake in the process will be your fault and therefore you are to be fined, even if it was the civil servant who did the formality.
What about buying a house, lending money to a close relative, selling a car or any other not very difficult transanction? Be ready for the apocalypse. To a big deal of papers a lucrative percentage of taxes and commissions for gurus and experts will be added.
Bureaucracy is necessary. Our lives are built on private property and we can’t do without it. But things should –and possibly could– be hugely simplified. Everybody would be happier; everybody but bankers, lawyers, politicians, brokers, state agents and so on. Maybe too many interests to be erradicated all of a sudden.

martes, 11 de agosto de 2015

Living with a candidate to pass a competitive exam

Spain is different. Everybody knows that. Starting with the habits of increasing food ingestion from a minute breakfast to a sumptuous dinner, continuing with the compulsive purchase of stock housing or the urgent necessity of getting a permanent job at any cost.
This essay has to do with the last of those assumptions. And with its implications in everyday life. Because who doesn’t want to have a post forever? Things have gone so wrong in the recent past in Spain, with the crisis and its over-elongated shadow, that top desires have changed from a lottery prize to a public job in the administration.
But there’s no easy way to work slavery. With a proportion of at least one post for twenty candidates, if not more, it is a path that a person knows when to start, but not when will be over.
A candidate is a difficult person. Even in his heyday, his mood will turn gloomer and darker than usual, his time for social life will be nonexistent, and his expectatives will go round the examination. No matter how much time one spends on studying, it is always insufficient, especially if there’s a family –parents, wife, children. For them, who understand but do not the situation, the feat is even harder. People who love you want to have good times with you, but you’re not in the mood. And contradictory feelings arouse. The candidate feels guilty because he can’t attend his personal and his professional life, and an aura of pessimism pervades everything.
One life is not enough to face the test. The challenger just wants the competitive examination to be over, to rest, to be the owner of his destiny, even if we are just talking about a couple of hours a week devoted to a long-forgotten minor occupation. And everything turns to be difficult. He doesn’t undestand the lack of comprehension of the others, who obviously are playing in another league. The relatives and friends demand their part of attention and care, and time is very limited, up to the point that, should the candidate have three lives to spend on exam preparation, he would take the three of them in studying and preparing.
But the real tragedy is not here. We have been taught that to a supreme effort a worthy reward must come, but this doesn’t normally occur with competitive exams. If you have, say 700 people for 40 posts, it doesn’t matter how good you are or if you deserve it. Fate doesn’t understand about divine justice and that stuff. The only thing that matters is to be one of the top forty in the examination. It has nothing to do with doing your work well or being the best, it is only about proving that you can do the best test attending to the established strange rules, those that normally have no relationshipship with the post you are applying to. Neither try to understand the assessment criteria or the professional capacity of the examination board: they always know less than you and probably less than the majority of your rivals. Nobody said it was easy, but it wasn’t fair, either.
If you or somebody in your family is undergoing this situation, good luck. You truly need it. Just to pass the exam successfully and to avoid conflict, divorce, distance, madness, remorse of those moments that will be lost forever. Maybe the expectations were, like those of Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations’ Pip Pirrip, too great for somebody like you. But do not let yourself be disappointed by this pessimistic narrator. Maybe you are good enough and “it cannot be done” literature only manages to encourage you to try harder. Impossible is nothing, says Nike. It’s just quite difficult.

sábado, 23 de mayo de 2015

The tiranny of the idle

He's charming, well educated, tender, clever and sophisticated... the perfect partner. The only little problem is... you know, that he is not very eager to work.
Guys like this are more common than it seems and, if you have one in your life, be ready for an extra sacrifice in the name of love.
Of course the range of people include both male and female adults, youngsters, oldies and babies, but some have more excuse than others to be lazy. It’s not the same being an adolescent with the head full of partying and interminable whatsapp conversation about such paramount topics as hairstyle or the last hangover than becoming a supposedly respectable mum with two children and enormous economic and familiar responsibilities.
The point is, some humans don’t accomplish their duties. They have even developed extraordinary skilful excuses to put the blame on somebody else, the Government, destiny or a bad patch. If they are the one and only in their life, superb! Everybody waste his time in his own manner: sweeping the Sahara desert’s sand, sniffing the money out or collecting stupidities acquired via ebay. But, unless your are a weird alien fallen from the red planet, or a superfreak with no friends or relatives because they abandoned you by a rivershore in a wicker basket, you must contribute to the family economy. Maybe not earning good money. Finding a job nowadays seems impossible mission sometimes. But you can take care of the children as well. Or cleaning the house, cooking or doing the ironing. Household chores are almost infinite. You only need to use your imagination. And your hands. What you can’t do is nothing. Waiting for your ideal job to come out of the blue or even praying for such a chance not to appear.
If you are the other one, the sufferer, good luck. You will need it. God knows how much effort you will make in the name of a bad understood affection. If it’s your offspring I can still sort of admit your patience. Any other case you deserve what you have at home. Do company and two screws a week deserve it? I answer you: not at all.

martes, 7 de abril de 2015

What is the future of the present?

If any person today turned back towards the past and tried to imagine then how things would be in the time to come, it would result absolutely unbelievable. Hard to think that there would not be flying cars and light sabers fuctioning as multipurpose tin openers and other thousand stupidities. In a sense, one considers that future isn’t a linear progression and that technology and invention have run too much for some aspects and have just decelerated for others. People still have sex by physical contact and most homes are unlocked through a not-original-at-all key. We thought we have grasped future, but it was just the weary present. The other guy was two steps before us.
The last craze seems the whatsapp application. Almost everybody is hooked to that shit. More than cocaine, I believe, although I don’t know if I’m also afraid of so dubious an acknowledgement. Communication has transformed into a big stupid speaker that let us contact distant people at the same time that deafens and silences those closer to us. And maybe you would prefer to be there instead of here, but I bet that if you stayed in the other location you would send interminable whatsapps to the mates in this. Yeah, those you ignored a couple of lines ago.  In any case, “talking” through written conversation demands new skills as important as having a driving license or being able of operating a modern computer.
For immense and neverending household chores, innovation never arrived. We still have to sweep the floor, do the washing and the ironing and change the baby’s nappies. Some things never change, even though you have enough money to buy a brand-new vacuum cleaner robot. As for personal hygiene, nothing new under the sun. We still get rid of dirt and smell through running water, and although wet wipes and dry shampoo do wonders, H2O is still the king of cleanliness.
And in love? Does technology selects for us in a more accurate way that that naive chubby angel with the arrow rarely reaching the correct buttocks? I’m afraid not. People choose as wrongly now as ever. Cupid’s post is safe and sound. Maybe he shot all of us in relation to our whatsapp application.

martes, 17 de marzo de 2015

Cyber revenge

Many amateur videos about homemade sex proliferate on the internet. Some are funny recordings about couples with a randy moment, taken by a security camera or a far cell phone, where situation and angle offer a comic sketch rather than a hot tape. The other variety puts the emphasis on heating the spectator up.
And things have changed a lot. In a world of interwoven communication, data interchange, instant information and almost free access to any kind of contents, it was just a matter of fact that pornography became boring. Just as operated boobs and streched faces have made beauty seem plastic-like, artificial, aseptic souless flesh on somebody’s bones, perfectly choreographed short videos recorded with wanking purposes have fallen in disgrace. To a certain extent. Reality overcomes fakes. Or, as they say, truth is stranger than fiction.
But we are not here to speak about the craze of homemade vs. professional sex. The reason of this essay, notwithstanding it comes right into the third paragraph, is to reflect about a new kind of love vengance. Forget about calling your ex at 3 pm. This is much funnier and humiliating. Follow these easy instructions. First, fuck her off. No, no, wait. Just without the preposition. Then convince her, in the name of the passion, your sacred love or whatever, to film both of you in sexual action. Don’t care about appearing on screen, you can add a tomato or any other covering mask to your face in all the stills later. Maybe you are not a sonofabitch. Perhaps you just recorded your girlfriend’s orography because it stimulated your horny mind or your hard-ons, I don’t care. Probably you thought you really love her.
But she left you. Now is the moment for the fuck off part. Remember that video with that so little becoming position of her? Yes, that with the big buttocks. Forget about it. You need to show the face. Now, who is the genuine sonofabitch, the immature, childish, tiny-penis complexed bastard who deserves a good eternal gonorrhea? Yeah, it’s you. Why don’t you cover her face with anonymity instead of those timid drops of masculinity and show off about the deed with your stupid ass-like face and your name subtitled?
Maybe amateur sex is good fun for some, but it isn’t when you don’t ask for permission. You deserve a good yellow badge of cowardice. And a kick in the nose too.
Although quite different, this kind of punishment is similar to beating a woman. I know it’s not the same and the possibility of a forbidden video coming into light is equally feasible for both male and female ex’s. But the fact is, there is no porn for women. Not in the classical term. The most similar thing is a new kind of 50-shadows-of-grey-like type of romantic, erotic stories or films. Women are not going to take revenge on you this way. They could find a thousand other types, but this is not one.
I don’t know if women should use the sexual attraction we feel for them to manipulate men. There have always been who did it and who didn’t. The truth is that most girls feel and think with the heart, and many boys with the cock. For whom does penis size matter? Surely for him, not for her! Those fucking minute dick(heads)!

miércoles, 18 de febrero de 2015

Firm hand or gentle handling

One of the greatest dichotomies in recent sociology is the way we approach the others, especially when there’s a master-apprentice relationship, when one must educate the other or just when one element has to take the initiative for no matter what weird reasons. The two options are diametrically opposite, since one is based in strengh, authority and powerful represion of non-allowed attitudes, and the other tries to convince rather than defeat, to act softly and win adepts for the cause.
It’s difficult to choose one. One may even think that he is being tough and the others consider that as tender as a feather thrust. Or just the other way round: an apparently self-confessed loving man will appear a complete devil in the eyes of the cattle.
Take boss-employee relationship. For no matter which reason, the former is always a bloody bastard with no possibility of redeem; the latter, on the contrary, turns out to be the ultimate lazy unless unskilled worker, even though he has two degrees and a master by the university of life. When the employer adopts a brother-like, gently manner with the laborer, he will systematically try to escape his duties, reaching the point of laughing at the face of the dumb boss, insulting of nicknaming him if his kindness permits the situation. We mankind are like this, biting the hand that feeds us, abusing good people and crawling before real sonofabitches. Because the evil boss, bad-tempered without reason, always molesting and humilliating his subordinates is much more typical, and it’s difficult to say if he went cruel because circumstances and abusers led him to be or just because one get rotten having the single chance and no reason.
In the family field the same can be found. Relationships are generally built over a strong and a weak counterpart among adults, and around a despotic parent and a kind one against the kid when educating underagers. But sometimes parents fall into excessive connivence and children then become real monsters, tyrannical brats with no sense of right or wrong, only whims, shouts and cries.
From my point of view, I have always defended the necessity of being nice, although firm, but from some time on I prefer, on increasing occasions, to settle conflicts with youngsters with a terrifying shout. And, educative or not, it works much better that good words and an infinite patience with them. Of course you cannot be all the time yelling, but once in a blue moon it makes them remember who is the alpha male here, because in a classroom we are not the same. The master orders, and the apprentices try not to obey. It’s a fact of life.
For the rest of human relations, I’m still finding a way. The best I have found up to now is “Yes, darling, a crawling worm and I don’t deserve to live”. It works too. J

domingo, 1 de febrero de 2015

Politics is not that easy

The South of Europe is still recovering from the aftermath of Greek general elections in which a brand new political party has risen as the ultimate solution to the country crisis. Alexis Tsipras’s SIRIZA has won all but two seats to obtained an absolute majority government. Measures have been swift and reactions for and against them have followed subsequently. The average Greek citizen celebrates the new anti-austerity policy, the rejection to talk with the Troika or at least the intention of renegotiating the national debt with Europe. But things are not so straightforward. Inverstors have escaped with their money to more stable markets and minor savers are afraid of a national restriction of their own savings. In the long run, if the new hellenic government, apart from persecuting corruption and limiting the overenrichment of high public posts, doesn’t assure relaxing fiscal and tax conditions to millionaires and big companies, they will probably move to a countries with more beneficial conditions. No investments, no industry and no jobs.
In Spain people is eagerly waiting for the general election of November with the hope that Pablo Iglesias’s Podemos will turn over the extremely corrupted practices of the two traditional strong parties, PP and PSOE. The new political group will also try to revert the destruction of working posts, reduce the debt and cut down on the inmense economical abyss between rich and poor people, among other popular measures like guaranteeing the national health service and the quality of public education, both now into question thanks to current Prime Minister Mariano Rajoy and his fantastic decrees born out of the absolute majority that the Popular Party has in the government.
But the same as in Greece is about to happen here. If the new measures are too strangulating por the powerful, they will go to new paradises. Maybe the system is bound to accept a certain degree of enrichment for the priviledged, some corruption but not too much. What I’m saying is terrible, but down-to-earth nations work like that. Until the very rich aren’t inmensely rich again, the average person won’t notice any improvement in his daily economy. As I heard once in prison –not as an inmate, I must remark–, “Some quantity of drug is not that bad within. It makes addicts tranquil and not very nervous.”
Another question is the result of the would-be new ministers from Podemos in the future. We don’t know if they will limit to run the country or will do just as everyone else: introduce the hand in the safe and retire some public funds for personal use. Only time, and maybe George Orwell’s Animal Farm will tell. From the time being, there are now three major parties in the surveys and two of them will have to pact to make a coalition government. Perhaps the traditional close enemies on the right (PP) and on the left (PSOE)? In any case, what is still incredible in Spain is that the party in the government, after so many flops and dishonest behaviour, is the first option for the majority of voters. They must have a lot of extended family.

jueves, 15 de enero de 2015

I don’t know if I am (Je suis) totally Charlie

Maybe this is not the best way to begin an essay, but being politically correct is,  reached this point, nonsense. The truth is the truth, yes, but sometimes it is a polihedron with multiple faces not always as beautiful or ugly as we may think.
The reprehensible shooting of the satirical newspaper Charlie Hebdo’s headquarters has been a truly jab into the heart of the most recognizable nation of freedom in old Europe, but no more than a sharp pain into the chest of a body little accustomed to severe injuries.
Again, opinions could be misunderstood, but statistics never lie. In the 11th  September 2001 terrorist attacks on The Pentagon, The World Trade Center and other places in North America three thousand people died there. The 11th March 2004 bombs in the Madrid train system cost a toll of almost 200 lives. In Paris 12 people passed away and four more are critical or seriously ill. The magnitude goes in decreasing numbers.
Now think about the tsunami of 2004 which drowned 230.000 second-class inhabitants, or the earthquake in Haiti where a hundred thousand natives –maybe more– stopped breathing in the name of poverty. And what about the innocents being killed every day in the African and Asian war conflicts? The figures are so big that it is risky not only to be born there, but also to state an approximate toll number.
The Western World has mobilized with the execrable crime of the satirical magazine, but we have been watching the Islamic State killing people day in, day out and nobody has ever cared about it. It seems that freedom of expresion is more important than third world’s lives.
When these horrible things happen, one can less than reflect critically on them. A teacher or mother brought her pupils/children to Charlie Hebdo house to show them that the artists had been killed for drawing. Well, I won’t say that is false, but I’m afraid this is a huge simplification of the facts.
Shooting somebody because they have shown an image of your undepicted God or prophet seems a bit overfanatic, I admit, but there is much more over the layer than it seems. I mean, we exert economic legal assassination. The developed nations have long helped poor countries to die of inner starvation. This has nothing to do with religion. It’s pure survival. And we first world citizens have forgotten about them long ago. We don’t push triggers. Not in the literal sense. We don’t need to. A good pack of measures and restrictions, greedy politics and interventionism have made the work for us (did I want to say “us” or “U.S.”? I’m not pretty sure).
Isn’t it cruel, insensitive, a total aberration to celebrate our Christmas traditions and compulsive consumerism habits while we turn our backs to those in need of basic help? Perhaps we deserve this kind of suicidal torments, maybe we are much more guilty than we think. Where did autocriticism go long ago? Oh, yes, we don’t need it. It’s all about maniacal followers of Allah and their Holy War. They are the baddies and we, pure saints that unfortunately passed by over there in the worst moment.
I think we are totally mistaken. And still we consider ourselves the paradigm of liberty, egalitarism and fraternity. The Islamic State may deserve a good nuclear bomb under their pants, but we didn’t care a damn until they touched our isolated happiness and remembered us that people are dying violently out there while we suffer depressions because there isn’t much more to undergo when all our basic necessities are covered. If bums are perishing of coldness, bad luck. But my family a new iphone each. 

jueves, 8 de enero de 2015

The worst day of the year

For me, it is today! Maybe for others it was yesterday, their wedding date or the last day of summer holidays. Variety is the spice of life, they say. Well, Christmas holidays have melted like a snowman at the sun of August (in Spain) and we have nothing to hope for.
Yes, you will tell me that we are half in the middle of the academic year, that summer is half way, that there is a ray of light in the midst of January mist, but it is not enough.
People have a lot of good intentions when the year breaks: a good deal of gym torture, re-starting (one more time and it’s the twenty-second time) that rusty English of you –I’m doing it as well, I confess–, giving up horrible vices such as smoking, devouring cakes or criticizing your mother-in-law, taking life seriously, saving some money, avoiding those terrible drunk times with their corresponding hangovers... the list is almost infinite.
I don’t believe about this reset of life. Not now, at least. The commencement of a new year is only a mark in the calendar and a lot of nonsense celebrating that we have overpassed another change of digits –I meant figures, not amputation and reimplantation of fingers–. Things really happen when academic years start again. That is September, the month where everything is new. You come from a long –or short vacation–, even fed up of vegetative contemplation of non practical routines, waiting for something that may indeed change your future. Mankind expectations are made up of dreams and illusory constructions, being only a small part those that will actually come true, sometimes in a completely unexpected way, or to a diminished fulfilment from the predicted result.  
In Autumn you see clearer, the air is still warm, and the harshness of cruel winter is far. There’s time to prepare for its rawness. Now it’s high time for projects and daydreaming. This is more clearly seen in school life. For students, the starting point is always the beginning of a new challenge: brand new mates, teachers, subjects, decisions, habits... For workers, some of the most paramount modifications appear after the summer, although not always. In any case, more and more enterprises tend to big changes when June is over and not with the natural fall of the year –another hint of true conclusion of a whole period.
In January, few features have been altered. Experiments, with coca cola. If the company must swap posts, reorganize departments or reconsider further instructions, they will wait for six more months. For the time being, definite decisions may be reached depending on the final performance of the pieces on the chessboard, but only to be communicated on the edge of vacations. Thus, a forced retirement will be well assumed and new responsibilities, too. In the end, living is going up and down storeys of a big building in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by everything. Which floor are you going to?

jueves, 1 de enero de 2015

¿Are you kidding?

Recently I have heard of Cristiano Ronaldo supporting the narcissistic idea that he is an idol for youth, or better, an example for youngsters. Well, this doesn’t exceed those unforgettable words about being criticised because he was handsome –arguably–, rich –indisputable– and a good player –one of the best, actually, if not the best right now–, but this epitaph renews old flaws in egotistic CR7.
And the blame isn’t his. Not totally, at least. He has been remembered once and again of his almost godlike qualities, much over the reasonable, until the point in which one doesn’t know if he is a demigod or a whole one. A good deal of euros per minute complete the spell and convince the most self-critical one. If a pornographic current account and the vacuous and neverending cheers and raw admiration of mindless fans hungry –if not starving– for epic don’t convert the humblest person on earth into a stupid brat nothing will.
Ronaldo will be another victim of football. A millionaire one, yes, but have a look at him five years from his retirement. There is no other field of failure and collapse like that of former sports men, being idolized and workshipped with interminable inconditional admiration and money just to end up alone, forgotten and bankrupt after a host of bad decisions closely related to luxury, glamour, compulsivity, vice and everything that money and fame can buy.
The twilight of the Gods must be something that no one can bear, that’s true. It makes you blind and deaf, if not completely dumb. And the worst is when you lose perspective, when you really believe that you are an example for others. I won’t deny that the Portuguese striker has got plenty of qualities, that he is one of the best in soccer history, that his pectorals are to be envied and desired, but from that to consider him a referent there is a huge stretch. I admit that his obsessive love for vigorexia, fitting and good shape make him a superhuman athlete, that those virtues can be extrapolated as effort, working hard and insist in life, but no more. The way he handles his fame is selfish, arrogant and childish. He is more a divo and a celebrity than a footballer. In spite of that, he is still a superb one, which makes it clear to what extent Ronaldo has been alienated by a massive overdose of idolatry.
It’s a pity that the youth don’t use common people as referents, but these are the market rules. Take it or leave it. The world will not change in a sigh. Well, maybe, if it is the phenomenon from Madeira who emits it.