Out of his misery
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Finally, he did it. Probably not because he wanted to, but he did it. The psychotic turkey (spanish version of the american lame duck) that still, but now for not much longer, presides Spain has given up and has called the country to a general election to be held, as everybody has known for the last six months, in November. Sunday, November 20th, to be more precise. But beware, he isn’t gone yet, there is still more than enough time to plunge the country even deeper into debt and get us into even more trouble than we are already in.
This political cadaver had been managed, ventriloquist puppet style, by PSOE’s candidate for this next general election for the last year or so. A president with his vice-president’s arm so deep up his arse that Rubalcaba had to order him to open his mouth so he could clip his nails. This last year has been a constant agony for everyone in the country, with nothing but uncertainty and an awkward feeling of going nowhere for the luckiest of us and with a first line view of a bottomless pit of despair for at least five million people.
Now we will start to see the results of the image laundering operation orchestrated by Mr. Rubalcaba and his horde of friendly propagandists in which we will be shown how a brand new candidate arises from the decomposing carcass of Spain’s worst president in its short democratic history. We will be told, loud and repeatedly, how Alfredo is the future, how he had nothing to do with ZP’s imbecility. He’s here to save us, hallelujah!
Yesterday we witnessed yet another act of this unofficial campaign: The official statistics institute released their quarterly voting intention polls in which Rubalcaba appeared as the preferred candidate for the majority of voters and PSOE was substantially cutting their losing margin against PP. Unfortunately for them there were other polls published that not only denied those results but showed tendencies pointing in exactly the opposite direction, proving that those official polls were so “cooked” that they looked like reconcentrated marmite and smelled even worse. Never mind, a good socialist will never let reality change their point of view.
We have a politically interesting end of summer and beginning of autumn ahead of us. Hoping that something good might come out of all this is probably wishful thinking, but being sure that whatever comes ahead can’t be as bad as what we’ve left behind might be a safe bet. Probably. I wouldn’t bet too much of my money on that, if I were you.