One of the most laughable matters, with pardon, of the new conspiracies is to have disguised as a terrible enemy the 2030 Agenda, that is to say, the development goals of the United Nations. Conspiracies, as a childish proposition of meaning in the face of the abstruse, tend to make viable as terrible enemies arcane subjects, corporations, organizations and complex institutions to which it is easy to attribute spurious interests embedded in sophisticated planning, since expert knowledge is required to understand its operation and purposes without resorting to magical thinking. Instead, the 2030 Agenda is nothing more than a list of progress goals to combat humanity's eternal enemies: hunger, war, ignorance, pollution... It is so transparent and voluntary that if something can be accused of naivety and simplicity. In other words, you need to wear a really thick aluminum foil cap to see shadows in a propositional document as transparent as it is virtuous.
In the context of the progressive ruin that seems to affect almost all of the intellectual and cultural icons that shone as references in the golden years of Felipeism, yesterday a fragment of an interview with the actor went viral on social networks Imanol Arias in Argentina, in which he bluntly uses conspiratorial rhetoric – that which elides the subject of sentences by conjugating the third person plural: “They lie to us”, they inoculate us” – to express his brand new abstinence from journalism , politics and science, and their joyful embrace of social networks, which, as everyone knows, are the shelf where the great truths of the present rest.
Note: In these same networks where our Antonio Alcántara investigates revelations about the fraud of the world, there are already those who have made calculations and have outlined a causal relationship between the legal problems with the Tax Agency and the rejection of the 2030 Agenda. Which has a deep meaning, not a coincidence, although certainly not what the fraudsters believe.
The drift of the exiled Alcántara is eloquent of the ruin of a dead world, because Cuéntame, as has been said around here, is the most sincere chronicle of the transition understood as an emergency of young middle classes who live with pusillanimous comfort the end of the dictatorship and they released the democratic toy with the same excitement with which they watched the One, two three... on the brand new Telefunken Pal Color. Half of the country felt forgiven seeing the way the Alcántara displayed their transitivity with Francoism and today nods to the anger of Mr. Antonio, who had to leave the country because of the voraciousness of the tax collection , next to which the Generalísimo was a lesser evil. Every decadence is pathetic, but even more so when what goes out is the brilliance of a generational feat that hid, between romances, glittering cowardice.
