Imagine the scenario: Spain, 2025.
You're walking down the street, minding your own business, and suddenly you fall down a rabbit hole with a red and gold bracelet and end up in a strange, almost magical place where they still hold masses for Franco. A surreal tale, but without tea, without charm, and with some characters scarier than the Queen of Hearts
In that twisted world appears the protagonist of this story: a seller of Francoist memorabilia who, far from selling trinkets or keychains, decides that his thing is to touch two Femen activists as if they were public property. Because yes, because he can, because he thinks it's 1960 and because his brain lives in a Wonderland of stale patriarchy where women exist to endure whatever he wants. What a pathetic fantasy.
The police, thankfully, arrested him.
Applause for sanity, which still appears from time to time.
It was a matter of minutes: if you go around selling fascist garbage and on top of that you get handsy in the middle of the street, with cameras recording you, the story can only end with handcuffs. And not the fun kind.
What they're doing is no longer machismo:
It's a grotesque performance, a shoddy version of the Mad Hatter but without talent or excuses. That kind of arrogance born from thinking the world keeps spinning according to the whims of those who shout "up Spain" while their ethics fall to the ground.
And the problem is bigger:
it's not just him.
It's the whole scenario.
A mass for Franco in 2025 is already a delirium that Lewis Carroll would reject as excessive. But if, on top of that, such an atmosphere serves as a giant mushroom under which misogynists feel like giants… well, here we have it: a lunatic believing he has the right to touch others' bodies "because it's always been this way".
What a marvel. What backwardness. What disgust.
The ironic thing —because there's always irony in twisted tales— is that those most concerned with "morals" and "values" are the ones with the least idle hands. What a coincidence that the guardians of tradition are always the ones who think they own everything, including women's bodies.
The two activists, luckily, left on their own two feet
The only serious damage here is what this country suffers when certain specimens continue to roam as if equality were a modern invention we can ignore.
Let the full weight of the law fall upon him.
And let it fall hard.
If he wants to relive his fantasy of petty dictators and submissive women, he can do so from a cell, where at least surrealism has limitsThe dictator has been dead for 50 yearsMachismo, unfortunately, continues to disguise itself to sneak onto the stageBut every time the mask is ripped off, it loses a bit of its dark magic
May this story end as it must end:
with the door slammed in his face.
And if he insists, close it tighter