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They were all dying gently. No pain whatsoever. They would just fall asleep and die. The victims were all politicians, and there were always a note on paper, capital letters in Time News Roman, on a wall somewhere on the premises.




            “Pure demagogical rubbish,” said Norman to the Cozy Murderer. “This is the opinion of the Prime Minister about your notes. What do you say about this?”

            “I might say the same if I were him in his place,” was the answer of the distorted voice on the sound speaker, like a robot. “If you, reporters, did your work, you would fact-check my accusations and find them true.”

            “That’s no excuse for murder,” retorted Norman.

            “I would rather call it casualties of war.”

            “How is that?”

            “Dear God…,” the sound speaker muttered. “I thought you were a real reporter, Norman.”

            “What war are you talking about?”

            “The war between politicians and the people. Where the hell have you been?”

            “Give me a break,” shouted Norman. “We had a deal about this interview. No radical speech. You promised to speak the all truth.”

            There was the sound of a deep breath on the sound speaker.

            “Thousands of people are dying because of unemployment, poverty, the bankruptcy of NHS, violent schools, high taxes to be diverted, and low wages. People get chronic physical and mental illnesses because of the abuse from politicians and corporations. This is an ancient war between those who rule and those who work. My mother died in a factory where she worked ten hours a day for an income insufficient for a daily meal.” An even deeper breath taken by the robot voice. “This is a pure slow genocide that lasts for generations. Politicians and corporations kill us massively. Abuse and poverty are their weapons. They are much more violent than myself.”

            Norman stroked his forehead.

            “Hence the Cozy Murderer signature, right?” Getting close to the window of his office, Norman glanced at the people on the street. “Tell me, how do you do it? Forensics says you kill painlessly, with some sort of venom. Your victims just fall asleep and die.”

            “That’s right. I use darts, surfaces in touch with their skin, or simply their food and beverage. The venom takes about four days to have an effect. This makes the poisoned item virtually untraceable.”

            “Why do you bother with killing them painlessly?”

            There was a robot laugh before the answer being given.

            “Finally you get to the point, Norman.”

            “What’s that?,” asked the reporter, now facing the sound speaker as if it were a person. Then, he listened:

            “I’m more human than they are.”

Saturday, September 18th 2021

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Take the man seriously! See what happens? History repeats itself. No matter the winner of the American election, there is a huge mass of fascists among us. Stupidity is extremely dangerous and time has come to stop laughing about it.

I am afraid. Human rights and decency are taken from granted by most intellectuals to the point of neglecting their teaching to the less fortunate. Politicians, as I mentioned in this article, are fond of herds and encourage fanaticism towards their party, like the one of sport fans. Their rhetoric is still demagogical, revealing a mindset in which voters are nothing but a mob. Unfortunately, as this election shows us, they still are.

Dividing to rule continues to be the credo of both intellectual snobbery and politics. Non-educated voters search for identity in their leaders, vulnerable to the feeling of being related to them as close as possible. Dictators and thugs are instinctively aware of this, embracing the theatrical part as people’s souls while climbing to the top. All they have to do is naming an enemy to blame for the mob’s disgrace.

The farming of fanatics must have an end. Genuine democracy leaders must invest in ethical education, defending the values of human rights and empathy. Intellectuals must become humble and conduct their energies to efficient communication of the pragmatics to basic human respect.

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Election Night

In case you don’t understand Portuguese, the outdoor on the drawing above is about elections. Tonight is the night. American votes will be counted to determine whether an assassin brat will continue to rule the most powerful country in the world or a career politician will mend the havoc of the last four years. Strangely enough, no one knows what will happen.

When George Bush Junior was elected I thought nothing could be worse than that. Four years later the man was reelected. When choosing between Hilary Clinton and Donald Trump, it was absolutely clear that Donald had no chance. He won. And he is a thousand times worse than George.

The deciding voters came from rural and industrial America. Extremely poor or extremely rich, predominately white supremacists raised on prejudice and irrationality, valuing blind loyalty to their own in a tribal manner, these individuals move on herds of passion and demagogy, never questioning the decisions of their idols. They are the always forgotten red-necked heart of America.

Forgetting the uneducated classes of the inland is a historical mistake common to all countries. Leaders believe in keeping cattle like crowds vulnerable to propaganda as a widget for power. Both conservative right wing leaders as left extremists master such technique, with the complicity of moderate ones to keep them running. It is this complicity that ruins nations.

It will be a long night.