The Cataloony-bin and its Cataloonies as seen by Carallot d'Antares, voyager. Somebody truthful enough had to investigate that despicable, despised, and warmongering and barbarian nation called the Cataloony-bin - and somebody had to report on the concomitant noisome terrors suffered by their martyred neighbors, the rightfully hallowed Shitholers particularly.


tot el que trec

ací tot el que trec d'altres indrets

exemple: això que anava al guaitajorns...

04 juliol 2005

Last of the Catalonians an American police inspector, I went into the dilapidated shack; above, in a damp narrow den, lived a grizzled melancholy old salt.

He had been exiled long ago; actually he'd been kicked into the sea by the thieves who had invaded his country.

I'm a Catalonian and the castelladrians (also called, through a horrible geographical distorsion, sapniards or asspainish) after robbing me and all my family of every item, plus of any single thread of dignitiy, proceeded with drunken patriotic glee to killing us off... I managed to swim into a whaler, from which later, after having contributed my hard work, I was also marooned into this country of thankless creeps.

Avaricious castelladrians, helped by the nazis and the frogs, as they did with the arabs and the jews, thus with the Catalonians... Exterminated us.

Of the grief and terror of those times he recounted no end. Until he died, without acknowledging to any type of crime ascribable to himself.

Downstairs, his daughter was suckling an infant. "Will the tyke ever speak Catalonian...? Now I doubt it. My father used to listen at the radio. Despite the fact that the names of the stations and of the organizations from his old (now occupied) country kept the names in Catalonian, as for example Museu d'Art Modern Valencià, nothing came in Catalonian any longer... I don't see the point to burden my son with a language and a memory of something dead..."

I said: Your are in consequence the last of the Catalonians. And I smiled, like a fucking idiot.

It must have irked her, for she, very angrily said: Our case is not different than yours, you arrogant asshole!

True, death coming as a recurrent tsunami. Now taking the Mohicans, now taking the Catalonians, now taking the Americans... All sand. All dust. All cinders...

And then I remembered. Oh, perspectives of the ages... I was oddly touched. I saw a bird.

The corpse upstairs had led such an innocent life. Happy him nonetheless.

How bitter the lives of the thieves and murderers in contrast!

Better never to be any longer, than keep on being a pushing destroying tsunamical shit...

On cue, the holy-spiritual bird shat on my pate. Yonder, the simple cop driving my vehicle hid a snigger... He knew not that this shit and its sudden symbology were my hallowed cinders... I was now walking in humility... Provided it lasted...! Almost aloft... Knowning now that the most criminal is not the marooned nobodies but the strutting bosses who sent them into the pitiless wilderness...

"To the nearest bar," I said, "I need a drink."

entre el mirall i els ulls

entre el mirall i els ulls
no voldria pas que l'escaient paral·lelisme patís tampoc de paral·laxi


La meva foto
Under the speckled canopy / Where, along the autumnal whisper / Of fair weather, I walked, / The enkindled persimmon, / And then the flaming chestnut, / The imploded acorn, fell… /.../.../ My eyes, and nose, and ears, / And tongue, and skin, in joy / Praised such fragile perfection. .../.../

qui en fot cap cas: