Apprentice Torquemadas

I grew up reading newspapers. Well, there were few, but he read them a lot. Hunger, repression, cold and lack of news. In my first youth came triumph. You dissecting Eduardo Haro, Miret Magdalena, concrete items and subjected to liturgy to the Sistine Chapel, where Sixto Camara (Manuel Vazquez Montalban) gave us Chair of irony, subtlety and style. I got intimate Pepe will increase, to show her my solidarity when they abducted the magazine for its articles. They said less than others but they bothered more.

I continued reading newspapers throughout life. I sinner, to Emilio Romero and I liked your columns of people. Then Joan Verdu, Rosa Montero, Manuel Vicent and the, I sinner again, until Perez Reverte I liked. Now, miles and school. By reading to school I’ve approached the public and its columnists. A few days ago, with half the country with swollen balls went into an article as well called and in the feedback forum. Pobre de Mi.

Believing contribute something I insert a post on my blog called the dairy. A pack of hounds insulting, aggressive and prudish I jumped to the jugular. I understand that my syllogism, Cristiano = Franco does not like to perhaps, a majority of this country, but it is my opinion. The sporting glories, I suffered both on the same side of the target in the universal than my poor drive neurons do not dissociate. When the cataract of insults made me unbearable, I tried, tottering, defend myself. I signed one saying that it chocheaba that maybe who chocheaba was he or any member of your family. And the spirit of the Beehive came to me above. Disqualifications, threats, it’s always insults. If answered a woman was an Iberian sexist, if it towards a male, I was a catalan separatist. The engine of that unleashed fury was the freaks, primary and covert, that adorns those minds in bad times for its philias.