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.


Lliçó del pont de Bagdad

Lliçó del pont de Bagdad (on, en boig esparpellament,
un miler periren, esclafats, trepitjats, ofegats)

—Esquitlleu-vos, fills meus,
de romandre mai
entre l’ignara voluda.

—Qualsevol falsa alarma
l’empeny al
mortífer esparpellament.

—Moriren perquè tenien por
de morir.

—Si haguessin estats
disposats a morir
no haurien morts.

—Maleïda por
de la voluda ignara
on la peguesa de cadascú
se suma
en peguesa summa.

—Amb por, mors tostemps
de neguit i desfici
(i llavors de debò
sempre a destemps).

—Sense, a ton temps.


That's how the season's bound to end...

That's how the season's bound to end...

Here's how the season does looms... Things are shaping up like it follows... Unless it is only in my dreams...

Anyway, here it comes.


Hey, the four Catalonian teams first, second, third, fourth!

And by what marvelous miracle in the reverse order of titles won up till now. Here is at last justice for you! About time too!

The kingdom of fucking heaven must be upon us!

But let's quit the fancy theology...

fifth: Bilbo
sixth: Donostia
seventh:Osasuna (from Irunya; Osasuna means Health in Basque)
eighth: Arabès (from Gasteiz)

Ok. So after the four Catalonian teams, the four Basque teams. It stands to reason. If figures, Probably, if instead of being a Catalonian, I were a Basque, those four teams would had been the four first finishers... Who can say... It's all idle speculation... Too deep philosophy... Not for me, practical man.


A Corunya
Celta (from Vigo)

Hey. Here we have the two Galician teams. The Galicians are the north Portuguese, and they speak Portuguese. Ok, I love them.

Betis (from Seville)

These are the Andalusian teams. Andalusians, these are the Arabs in disguise. Very cultured people. They deserve to be an independent nation. It would be the bridge Europe needs, between the blood-thirsty Europeans and the religion-stupified Arabs... Ok, maybe for next century or so. If there is still a new century left in humanity. If the fucking warriors haven't sent the earth to astronomical pasture: little bits of rock orbiting the moon.

Fifteenth: Saint Ander (that's a Basque name, Ander, meaning Andrew)

The old Cantabrian people, maybe by now irretrievably poisoned by the thieves...?

Sixteenth: Saragossa.

The Aragonese, before, when they were somebody, you had them happily allied with the Catalonians, now that they are nothing they are allied of course with the genocidal thieves. Lost creeps...

And last, of course, who else but the genocidal thieves, the ass-painers:

Seventeenth: Athletic Shit
18: Getaffen (are they monkeys or something? they certainly speak as such)
19: Ass-painish (utterly disgusting; the name says it all)
20: Royal shit (the representative of unalloyed horror).

And here you are. If at the end it ain't like it at all, at least it won't be my fault. Me, I'm praying that my scheme succeeds. Verbatim. Everybody in the world should do likewise, pray that it happens, I mean. Wouldn't then we all be laughing. Barrels of laughs, I tell you.

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: