anythingarian bubbles and troubles from the land of the sweating hun
Staggering up the hill at Parky Gay, as Park Güell is now called by some:
A Swedish girl once turned up for Night of the Tarantula in some fairly ambitious heels and not much else and was turned away. If things had gone wrong the headlines could have been quite lurid.
The Lenin-loving Joves Comunistes are the miniscule youth-wing of the increasingly insignificant alphabet soup of confused post-communists headed up by the bed-hopping Catalan regional interior councillor, Joan Saura, whose police force shot and almost killed the Barcelona municipal police chief last week. (”Youth” in Spanish leftist politics means anyone who wears jeans; most of them [...]
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Over at Crónica Verde, about the ongoing destruction by the Andalusian PSOE of the Doñana National Park. This is quite different from the abuse of natural space during the dictatorship because (all together now!) Franco was of the right, while Chaves is of the left, and the people’s friend to boot.
Other old media may be bolder liars, but you can always rely on ABC for the grossest cheese, as in this drooling retrowank re Felipe González’s new bit. How can you write a thing like that, even if it is a double entendre? Or am I just too much of a curious puritan?
I thought ETA’s man on the run had lost it when he went AWOL from a Subject Nation of an Evil Empire with generally excellent weather to a Subject Nation of an Evil Empire where it never bloody stops raining, just in time for winter. But then it started snowing across northern Spain, and even Barcelona had a hail storm.
Here.
On Facebook, Trevor is an uncle! / Trevor ya es tío!
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