oït o dit als trens (20) - divinament ans borbònica damnats a la inexistència

Petit diàleg al tren L’altre: –Catalonians, you say? No, but what’s that? “Catalonians,” what’s it, a sort of family of cockroaches, of weeds, of crabs...? Jo: –Ah, well, not; people, barely; people, yes, but then surely they don’t amount to shit, right. L’altre: –And so, who are they? Jo: –Oh, nobody. They don’t amount to mud, certainly not one of them to a human being in the full sense of the word. They’ve got no proper rights, you see. Not even right to use their own language – their tongue is banned, as if damned or jinxed, or what have you, condemned from on high, demonized, dangerous, infectious, doomed to extinction, fated to go fuck itself and die the death of a malignant angry pain in the ass... And... but why would anybody in their right mind give those malicious little misshapen pests any equal rights...? A right for them to have their own schools...? Are we crazy...? Right to learn their own chosen way in the world...? Are we criminally insane...? No; better for them to learn the right stuff in the schools of their betters! Thus... and rightly so... they are taught instead the histories and myths, and values, and whatever, the sundry habitual hyped-up spoliations, thefts and thieveries, of other peoples – as it happens, the highfalutin inflated elementals of their wily, tricky, neighbors, the french, the spaniards... The Catalonians’ history, their ancestors’ travails, their hopes and self-affirmations, their contributions to the world... hey, enough of this farce... the whole fetid bunch, their entire rotten whoop-de-do, garbage to add to the manure pile, for... they count for nothing, are plainly nobodies anymore... this if they ever were somebodies... no, no... nobodies, that’s it, agreed, that’s the canonical concord... unanimous consensus... universal belief... urbi et orbi... they never were other than nobodies... nobodies... why bother...? Nobodies sent nonetheless, for good measure, you know, constantly and eagerly, to the abyss, the hell of oblivion, for ever and ever... too plaguey, too leprous, too scary, too horrific, as in a horror film... if they ever managed to break through the thick mass of concrete shit under which they are buried now... ah, the horrors, yes, the world splitting, the universe tottering, and the heavens about to crumble into the right-thinking wholesome peoples of the... Well, you haven’t heard about the Catalonians’ sport teams either, have you – selections of players from that non-existing place...? How could you? Non-existing! Or about the Catalonians’ embassies, or armies, or votes, or... anything at all. That is, of course, because, even if they really existed someplace, degenerate cave-dwellers, effete, anemic, ectoplasmic, dissolving, oozing, a disgusting goo each of them... they wouldn’t be allowed to have any rights anyway... How could they? Too ugly, tacky, stinky...! The attack of the zombies! Who wants that? Not allowed, no. Exactly as nowadays, anyhow. Nowadays they’ve got no right to have any teams to represent them... Those teams would represent the Catalonians in the feasts and gatherings of nations, but then what... they would exist...! And here’s the horror for their squeamish, too self-righteous, too full of themselves, and seemingly frightened shitless neighbors...! The great fear... that the little buried monsters would after all prove that the Catalonians still exist...! And are compatible, and competitive... Ah, the willies; ah, the fright; every valiant panicky french and spanish athlete shitting his pants! The zombies whipping their asses... And what’s worse: existing...! Existing... ah, the end of the world at hand... the world falling to pieces... like the end of their turds falling to pieces in their shaking hands... Come on! Who believes that nonsense! The Catalonians existing as persons per se... and everything crumbling into a vast apocalyptic disaster! As if their very existence (albeit modest and unpretentious) would negate the pompous and bursting existence of those that want them under and underfoot, forgotten, and gone from the minds, annihilated... As if the risen Catalonian in scene would somewhat obscure, you know, bring umbrage to the spaniards or the french... as if these two were so frail, fragile, shitted all over... But come on. The spaniards, the french, those proud races...! Frightened shitless about the emerging...? the rising to the category, not of a cockroach, but of a person fully entitled to... full-personhood...? one by one, of the now buried Catalonians – held to be at the moment no better than swamps’ little critters or sewers’ cockroaches indeed...? Only good and deserving to be obliterated, like those baneful blattids indeed...? But no! Who believes that...? Are we so stupid...? As if there would be any doubt as to the fact that the spaniards would still be very much alive and kicking (not the Catalonians, for once, but kicking at any rate,) and the french would still be alive and smarmily browbeating, and at the same time sending in the murderous flics to squash, whoever were then the uppity ones... (though, luckily for the Catalonians, that time the uppity ones would no longer be them...)? Well, no matter; no danger of all that happening soon... So let’s all breathe a breath of release, relief... No rights. No rights, that’s the word. No rights for zombies. Other than the right to rapid extinction. Otherwise, no rights: that’s the word that goes with the zombies and the Catalonians, half-human, rightless... So, no fear that any of them both damned “constituencies,” the zombies and the Catalonians, will ever amount to a bag of beans... No voting rights... No right to advance their point of view... No right to international representation... no right to their own army... Oh, god forbid that they ever had a right to have any representatives (armed or not) sent anywhere to defend their own interests! No. The world collapsing, the heavens falling... The catastrophes, the ruptures, the un-raptures! For that would turn every fucking scheme upside down, topsy-turvy, helter-skelter, you bet... That would make them one more of the gang...! And everybody knows that they are divinely, bourbonistically, destined to never belong! To never belong! Rights, interests... Them? Those nobodies, since the word go doomed to unbeing...? What are we talking about? Human rights for those vile cockroaches...? Are we joking now or what...?