#deportar

[primepaginequotidiani]

PRIMA PAGINA El Pais di Oggi martedì, 22 ottobre 2024

[coolladydot]

Zuleiha deschide ochii (recenzie)

A încetat să-și mai pomenească zilnic bărbatul, soacra și fiicele – nu mai avea destulă putere, iar câtă îi mai rămăsese, o consacra lui Iusuf: i se părea o prostie, o nechibzuință să irosească minute prețioase din viață cu amintirile despre morți – mai bine să le dăruiască micii ființe vii care așteaptă toată ziua cu sete mângăierile sau zâmbetele mamei. Autor: Guzel Iahina Număr pagini:…

[dinopepitah]

My sister and her friend got catcalled in france to the point that the man didnt wanted to leave. Maybe im a bit exaggerated but i thought: "maybe a huaso scream with a spray deodorant in hand and a lighter would scare him away" XDDDDDD

Huaso screaming with a melon. If you have time watch that lol

[sauolasa]

Consiglio d'Europa: "Deportare i bambini ucraini in Russia è genocidio". Zelensky: "Passo decisivo"

Kiev incolpa Mosca della deportazione di oltre 16.000 bambini dai territori occupati. La Corte penale internazionale ha emesso un mandato di arresto per Putin e per la commissaria per i diritti dei bambini Maria Lvova-Belova per presunto trasferimento forzato di bambini: è un crimine di guerra

[n-0zomis]

parpadea un par de veces, presencia de la chica es bienvenida a pesar de que todavía espera respuesta de tercero. dígitos agarrando la botella de agua sin mirar, ojos que destellan reto siguen posados en persona hasta cuando abandona la escena y es ahí donde se gira a mirar a darcy ' ¿por qué olvidaría cómo hablar? qué bobo ' se desentiende del asunto, porque verdaderamente no comprende motivo ' gracias ' le suelta, abriendo la botella y dándole un trago largo a la misma ' ¿hace cuánto llegaste? '

no está muy lejos así que alcanza a escuchar aquel tono que ya le resulta bastante familiar y de inmediato se decide a acercarse con un par de pasos apresurados. ❝ no te preocupes, yo se la doy ❞ le dice al tercero con cara de susto, esbozando una breve sonrisa y entonces toma la botella de agua para extendérsela hacia la chica. ❝ las están repartiendo para los voluntarios, pero por alguna razón creo que olvidó cómo hablar ❞ explica a modo de broma aunque a sus ojos resulta obvio el motivo.

[latinotiktok]

Chismesito aprovechando , Un pibito gringo random me acusó de que me quería hacer la "moralmente superior" cuando le envié un mensaje de que no teníamos nada contra de él pero que dejara de ser racista xq andaba mandando tiktoks con estereotipos cuestionables y chistes de inmigrantes , encima que a otro amigo mío que también es latino le andaba haciendo chistes que lo iba a deportar y le dijo "mexican drug dealer" 💀💀💀

[bicheco]

La marcia su Rama

Siccome ogni giorno ha la sua comica, anzi due o tre, noi siamo irresistibilmente attratti dallo storico accordo Italia-Albania per la deportazione di una quota infinitesimale dei migranti che il governo anti-migranti è riuscito a raddoppiare: la famosa marcia su Rama. I tecnici ministeriali stimavano un costo di 100 milioni l’anno. Ma in pochi giorni il preventivo è già raddoppiato a 200 milioni l’anno per 5 anni (semprechè qualche essere senziente non chiuda il rubinetto). Se si pensa che i 10 nuovi Cpr previsti in Italia costeranno 19 milioni l’anno, viene da scompisciarsi. Anche perché, su 153 mila migranti sbarcati nel 2023, i due costosissimi Cpr albanesi potranno ospitarne 720 per volta. E non si sa quanto i graditi ospiti vi verranno trattenuti: se resteranno un mese, come sostiene metà del governo (opzione A), la capienza sarà di 9 mila all’anno; ma se resteranno fino a 18 mesi, come sostiene l’altra metà del governo (opzione B), l’Albania ne prenderà 720 ogni anno e mezzo. Cioè: i Salvini&Meloni che tuonavano contro i 35 euro al giorno spesi dalla sinistra per ogni migrante, ne spenderanno 761 al giorno e 277.777 l’anno nell’opzione A; e 63,4 al giorno e 23.148 l’anno nell’opzione B.. In ogni caso, tanto varrebbe affittare a ciascuno una villetta o pagargli una suite al grand hotel. Un capolavoro. E i preventivi sono ancora provvisori, visto che non basterà deportare in Albania i famosi 720 migranti: siccome paga tutto Roma e niente Tirana, bisognerà assumere e spedire in loco 45 funzionari civili e altri 10 dell’amministrazione penitenziaria, più altri 18 amministrativi e 30 assistenti in collegamento con 10 magistrati della Procura di Roma, oltre a 5 medici, 4 infermieri, 2 funzionari amministrativi sanitari e poi agenti di polizia à gogo con imbarcazioni e voli charter per trasbordare i migranti dall’Albania all’Italia, senza contare il sovraccarico burocratico di ricorsi e controricorsi per la “soluzione” extraterritoriale (ed extraeuropea). Una farsa così imbarazzante che nessun ministro ha voluto metterci la faccia. E quando diciamo nessuno intendiamo Tajani che, non riuscendo a giustificare i 200 milioni buttati, ha detto che comunque “sono molti meno di quelli sequestrati per la malagestione del Superbonus” (che il suo partito vuole prorogare). Se è per questo, sono molti meno anche dei 368 milioni di dollari frodati al fisco dal suo leader B. nel solo caso dei diritti Mediaset. Perciò temiamo che la diffida legale di Sangiuliano a Un giorno da pecora a non prenderlo più in giro, ove mai fosse presa sul serio da Geppi Cucciari e Giorgio Lauro, non sortisca l’effetto sperato. Per il governo-vaudeville non c’è più bisogno di satira, parodie e battute: si prendono in giro da soli.

Marco Travaglio

[skellybonesandtrees]

Mano, sério que uma brasileira foi atendida pelo Trump no drive-thru do McDonald's e passou vergonha dando uma vira latada básica? Ela sabe que ele quer deportar ela?

[gregor-samsung]

“ Degli anni della mia formazione scolastica l’esperienza più emblematica che mi torna in mente è il sabato fascista: le ore che era obbligatorio trascorrere nella sede del fascio per essere indottrinati. Non che allora noi rifiutassimo o aderissimo alla dottrina di Mussolini, semplicemente la imparavamo a memoria, era un compito come un altro. Imparavamo a memoria anche le poesie, e non è che ne capissimo ogni verso. Ancora ricordo l’articolo primo, che era la base di tutto ciò in cui ogni bravo fascista doveva credere: «Lo Stato è un valore assoluto, niente fuori dello Stato, niente contro lo Stato, niente al di là dello Stato, lo Stato è fonte di eticità». È vero che chi non si presentava al sabato fascista, il lunedì non veniva ammesso a scuola ed era redarguito severamente, ma ciò ci appariva una punizione circoscritta all’ambito scolastico, legata al fatto che non eravamo stati buoni scolari, più che solerti futuri camerati. Non bisogna inoltre dimenticare che non tutti gli insegnanti subordinavano il loro dovere di maestri alle imposizioni del regime. Senza contare che quella dottrina era troppo lontana dal nostro mondo, dalla nostra cultura per far breccia dentro di noi, anzi, aggiungerei, era quasi considerata un’eresia. Sentivo a casa mia e in altre famiglie amiche discuterne, criticarla, rifiutarla: nel nostro Veneto cattolico l’eticità delle leggi era avocata a sé dalla Chiesa.

Solo quando lo Stato fascista cominciò ad applicare i suoi principi con mano pesante, a perseguitare, a processare, a deportare in Germania, a eliminare chi non li rispettava, solo quando l’alleanza tra fascismo e nazismo si fece sempre più stretta e infine, dopo l’8 settembre 1943, i nazisti divennero i veri padroni del territorio, solo allora capimmo che quel «fuori», «contro», «al di là» non erano termini con cui si potesse scherzare. Fu cos�� che alcuni discorsi ascoltati nella mia famiglia, quando si era sicuri di poter parlare, e l’esempio di mio padre, le vessazioni che subiva, ebbero un altro valore. Le parole dei nostri parroci che, nelle prediche della domenica e negli incontri con noi giovani dell’Azione cattolica, invitavano all’amore e alla concordia, al rispetto solo dei dogmi della Chiesa, alla professione della fede, uscirono dalle parrocchie, a volte contro la volontà degli stessi preti. E le leggi razziali del 1938 smisero a un tratto di essere qualcosa di stabilito dal fascismo non tanto per intima convinzione quanto per mera opportunità politica, dovuta all’alleanza con Hitler, con il nazismo; infine ne cogliemmo tutta la portata, mentre, per lungo tempo, non avevamo avuto gli strumenti per decifrarle e non eravamo riusciti a immaginare che si sarebbe creato un sistema spietato per farle rispettare. Dopo l’8 settembre non ci fu più alcuna distanza tra le due dittature. E fu impossibile non schierarsi. “

Tina Anselmi con Anna Vinci, Storia di una passione politica, prefazione di Dacia Maraini, Chiarelettere (Collana Reverse - Pamphlet, documenti, storie), 2023; pp. 10-11.

Nota: Testo originariamente pubblicato da Sperling & Kupfer nel 2006 e nel 2016.

[primepaginequotidiani]

PRIMA PAGINA El Pais di Oggi sabato, 19 ottobre 2024

[locobastaaa]

HAIKYUU: Mejores y Peores compas de PORRO!

Personajes: Kuroo, Tendou, Akaashi, Sugawara, Daichi, Iwaizumi, Kenma, Bokuto, Hinata, Asahi, Yamaguchi, Ushijima, Oikawa, Lev, Tsukishima, Atsumu, Kageyama

Me saco el lado argento y ecribo un headcanon q me surgio hace bastante

Tw: consumo de marihuana, algunos vomitan, chiste de deportar a Lev, son MAYORES en este fic!! (no consuman si son menores)

Mejores

1- Kuroo (ree chill arma increible y te cuenta historias y datos re interesantes, te deja apoyarte en su pecho mientras te abraza y hablan, toman pepsi fria y comen papas)

2- Tendou (muchos contactos de dealers, arma bastante bien y le agarra alto viaje mistico, le copa ver pelis flasheras bajo el efecto pero no entiende nada ni puede seguir la trama, lo babea un toque asiq menos puntos x eso, un cago de risa si lo juntas con Kuroo. Lo posee su chef interior y te intenta de hacer comida y esta god)

3- Akaashi (si no le da un brote psicótico pobre pibe esta en la suya y se pone profundo/sentimental y bastante cariñoso. Se abre de la nada y cuenta de sus problemas, basicamente todo lo q sobrepiensa lo dice en voz alta, se le borra el filtro)

4- Suga (se pone profundo y se re suelta, tal vez se nos queda dormido, le gustan los savorizados de eucalipto/lavanda, no sabe armar igual)

5- Daichi (afloja el culo fruncido y te cagas de risa, tira de la nada el comentario mas shockeante del mundo, no se acuerda de nada el dia siguiente y si se acuerda lo niega rotundamentepa)

6- Iwa (arma decente pero le agarra rapido la mano, bastante chill, no para de hablar mal de Oikawa pero se caga de risa y le gusta salir a boludear x los supers)

7- Kenma (suuper tranqui medio q le da nauseas pero no dice nada y al toque se le van, se rie a veces en voz baja pero no sabes de que, medio cagaso pero es re lindo asiq lo perdonamos, se pega la siesta de su vida casi llaman a una ambulancia xq parecia q no respiraba al dia siguiente

Peores

1-Bokuto (se pone insoportable bajate de la heladera pendejo pelotudo, no para de hablar y de reírse y se intenta hacer amigo de tu viejo con la baranda a marihuana q maneja de pedo no lo saco cagando)

2- Hinata (si no muere instantáneamente termina vomitando todo solo con el olor, lo MATO, le pega al toque y fuertisimo pobre nene)

3- Asahi (le agarra un derrame no lo vemos mas, multiplicador de depresion)

4- Yamaguchi (vomita todo flaco hiciste 2 pitadas, después se pone q llorar xq le da culpa)

5- Ushijima (no se como lo convencieron a q fume pero muy mal viaje, no entiende nada, se olvida q mide 3 metros y va tirando cosas sin querer, flashea entrenamiento en medio del viaje astral y se empieza a sentir mal de la panza, no le gusta la experiencia y no quiere hacerlo nunca más, medio q los gaslightea sin querer a los otros para q se sientan mal cuando consumen)

6- Oikawa (no para de llorar callenlo, se te tira encima pero no calcula q es pesadisimo y te aplasta, ya en el piso con vos abajo sin respirar se queda dormido y moris afixiado)

7- Tsukishima (se hace el agrandado y desp se pone del orto, mas irritable de lo normal, desp se niega a compartir colchon)

8- Atsumu (cerra el ORTO, se le infla la cabeza del choto e intenta chamuyarse a ser q se mueva, mi vieja esta casada y te triplica en edad loco para de tirarle onda te voy a asesinar)

9- Kageyama (la re mal viaja pero esta callado asiq no me quejo, se levanta una vez en toda la noche para ir al 'baño' y caldea hasta el techo)

10- Lev (otro q es insoportable, no para de cantar y gritar, te tenes q contener de darle vuelta la cabeza de una piña posta no se calla y te hace un headlock en forma de cariño pero te apreta la cabeza y te duele pero cuando le decis como esta cantando a todo pulmon no te escucha, Kenma lo hace recapacitar de el pedazo de grito q le pega, lo deja llorando. Es del tipo que dice cada 10 segundos 'estoy re ido locooo' si ya se Lev te voy a deportar).

[aperrywilliams]

Green Card - Ch4: Your Life, My Life, and Ours (Spencer Reid x Fem!OC)

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Author Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Previous chapter < > Next chapter

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!OC (Ana María González)

Series summary: What reason leads two complete strangers to marry? For Spencer, the chance of his mom being admitted into a new medical trial. For Ana María González is to get the elusive green card.

Chapter summary: Ana and Spencer think they will soon get what they were waiting for. Only one of them will. Or: this is getting more complicated than we thought.

Word Count:  5.3k

CW: Some strong words. Talking about deceased parents (Ana). Talking about dads leaving their families (Ana and Spencer). Entire Spanish sentences (you have been warned). If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: Chapter 4 is here. I particularly enjoyed writing this one. Let me know what you think.

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Spencer vented enough about his relationship with Maeve that afternoon. After two more cups of coffee, Ana already knew how Spencer had met Maeve and the dynamic they had been keeping for over a year.

"You're right. Things between you two are complicated, indeed," she concluded. Spencer sighed.

"I should end it, right?" 

Ana held her hands up in surrender.

"I'm not judging you, and I'm not giving any advice regarding this. I'm the worst when it comes to romantic relationships. Too messy for me, always," Ana confessed.

"It's bad to say I'm a little relieved I'm not the only one with messy relationships?" Spencer asked, making her chuckle.

"Yeah. Not very nice of you, but understandable," Ana conceded, checking her phone. It was late, and she didn't want to take advantage of her welcome at Spencer's place. He walked her to the door, thanking her for listening to him.

After she left, Spencer plopped again on the couch. Apparently, it was confirmed talking about things brings some relief to people. That didn't mean he had any resolution, but at least he felt less overwhelmed. Ana was indeed a good listener.

They didn't talk again for a couple of days. Spencer thought it could be a time before she would get her residence. Bureaucracy is always about time.

And thinking about that, Spencer didn't get any response from Fogarty yet. That kept him a bit nervous.

But he didn't give him much of an issue either. The cases at the BAU kept him busy enough to become overly anxious. In the same way, having case after case kept him away from DC and, therefore, from the coffee shop and Ana.

The night Spencer returned to his place after a long case in New Heaven, he was skimming a new book with a cup of coffee in hand. Suddenly three loud knocks made him jump from his seat.

Opening the door, he saw Ana crying and totally drenched from the rain pouring outside. With no further question, Spencer took hold of her hand to lead her into the apartment.

"Hey, hey. Ana. What's wrong?" he asked after closing the door and inspecting Ana's face. The poor girl only could sob a babbled incoherent words. Incoherent words until Spencer paid more attention.

"Me van a deportar. Ellos - ellos me van a deportar. Estoy jodida. La cagué, Spencer. Ellos lo saben todo y me van a echar del país." (They are going to deport me. They - they are going to deport me. I'm screwed. I fucked it up, Spencer. They know all of it and they are going to kick me out of the US).

Spencer's eyes widened at the realization.

"Wait, what? How? How do they know?"

Still sobbing, Ana produced an envelope from her purse and gave it to him. It was a letter from the Immigration Office.

'Ms. Reid,

Regarding the new information submitted and after the visit of USCIS agents to your home, we instruct you and Mr. Reid to attend an Examination Interview, according to the legal faculties of US law. We'll inform you date and place of this interview as soon as our office determines it.'

"Oh," Spencer muttered. He knew green card interviews existed but didn't know much about them. What he did know after reading the letter was Jones and Gorski's visit didn't go as well as they thought.

"It's over," Ana lamented, drying her tears with her thumbs. And then Spencer snapped from his stupor.

"What?"

“Cómo que qué? Es obvio! Es imposible que vayamos a una entrevista así. No nos conocemos lo suficiente, y no podremos fingir como lo hicimos con los otros agentes, que por cierto poco funcionó. (What are you asking? It’s evident! There is no way we go to an interview like that. We don’t know each other that much, and we can’t fake the way we did with Jones and Gorski. And clearly it didn’t work either),” Ana complained, falling into crying again.

She had a point. Spencer heard that kind of interview could be very detailed. It wasn't surprising, though; the goal was to find the people lying about their marriage for the green card. Tragicomically, people like themselves.

"Ana, you need to calm down. Come on, sit here," Spencer helped her to the couch and sat by her side. "Now you need to breathe, please. Follow my lead."

As she tentatively did so, trying to subside the tears and the incipient hiccup, Spencer racked his brain, looking for a solution. It pained him to see Ana like this. He didn't even think about his own status yet.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault. I pulled you into this," Ana apologized when she found a steady breathing pattern.

"Don't say that. We're in this together, okay? I'm going to get you some water. Please, keep deep breathing," he said, patting Ana's hand before strolling to his kitchen.

While filling a glass with fresh water, Spencer's brain worked fast. The letter wasn't good news, but neither was an end road. They wanted to test them. And what do you do when you need to pass a test? Well, you study. That's what you do. Why should this be different?

Handing her the glass of water, Spencer sat again by Ana's side. The girl thanked him and downed the liquid relatively fast.

"I came here and didn't even call. I don't usually be like this. I mean, this kind of visceral and impulsive. I'm just- when I got the letter, I freaked out," Ana explained.

"I understand. And you did okay coming here. It's a lot and enough to be overwhelmed," Spencer said, taking the glass from her hands and leaving it on the coffee table.

"I guess. And I know this was a possibility, but I really thought we had pulled it off," Ana lamented, running a hand over her hair.

"We still can," Spencer pointed calmly, making Ana's head snap.

"What? You're considering we can go to the interview?"

"Yes. I do."

"But Spencer, they will ask everything about our life together. A life we don't have if you didn't notice."

"That's why we'll study."

"Study? Like for an exam?"

"Exactly."

"I know you have a Ph.D. and stuff, but this isn't something you just can memorize. I mean- yeah, maybe I could remember your mother's and colleagues' names, but it doesn't mean I know you."

Ana had a point. Memorizing facts was only part of the deal. But Spencer was determined to make it work.

"That's why we'll get to know each other to prove them wrong."

"And how do you suggest doing that? Living like a real husband and wife?" Ana laughed. But it subsided quickly when she saw Spencer's serious demeanor. "Are you saying-?" She asked, now worried about the implications.

"No. Not like that. I mean, we can improve our knowledge of each other by sharing our routines. Not doing marital life, of course, but as friends or roommates? It could work."

Ana wondered what was worse: marrying a complete stranger to get the green card or living with your stranger husband to pass an exam to get the green card. Had she a choice? Sure, she had one: running from Spencer's apartment to make her suitcase and leave the US for good. But it wasn't what she wanted.

"So, you are suggesting we should live together?" Ana double-checked. Spencer nodded.

"Until the interview. I mean- we can be roommates. I have a spare room you can use. And we can study in our free time. Of course, we can do this only if you are okay with it. If not, we can think of another thing," Spencer clarified, knowing it was a lot. It was for him, at least, but he was willing to try it.

It was absurd, but at this point, what it wasn't?

There wasn't much thinking about what to do. After talking to Spencer that night, Ana was determined to give the best interview ever to get her residence. So she accepted Spencer's offer. 

Ana kept reassuring herself with her suitcase in hand as she was about to knock on Spencer's door that Sunday afternoon.

It would be a couple of weeks. They hoped so, but there wasn't any certain. The letter said they would be notified of the interview date, and Spencer did his research, and it could be at least a matter of weeks.

Spencer opened the door and invited her in.

"Well, you already know the living room, the bathroom, and the kitchen. Please, feel free to place your things where you prefer. I'll take you to your room," he told her, walking down the hall.

The bedroom was a more decent size, larger than the room she rented. It had a small window that faced the street, and one of the walls adjoined Spencer's room.

As she scanned the place, Spencer watched her intently.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to. We can always find another alternative," Spencer told Ana, suspecting the doubts she might still have. That got Ana out of the inspection mode.

"Spencer, it's okay. You're right. It's the efficient way to go. And it will be only for a couple of weeks. It's me who would be asking if you're okay with this. This's your place. I'm the intruder here."

What Ana said was true. Spencer was used to living alone. He only shared a place when he was studying at Caltech, and it was only for a few months. After that, he got used to being alone. Even Maeve hadn't stayed more than one night when she visited.

"Don't say that. I suggested it and wouldn't if I'm not okay with it. I would tell you I am excellent company as a roommate, but I would be lying," Spencer declared, making Ana chuckle. "I assure you, though, you can feel free to be in this apartment as if it were yours. Now I'll leave you so you can settle in."

That was sweet of him, Ana thought. Sure, it was in both parties' interests this turn out well, but it still seemed to Ana that Spencer was doing more than expected.

She was left tidying her clothes and her other belongings. They agreed to start studying that night over dinner.

When Ana left the room a few hours later, Spencer had a pizza box on the table and was brewing coffee.

"It's probably not as good as the one you make, but I hope it works," he told her, pointing to the pot.

"I'm sure it will."

After eating a few slices of pizza, the conversation turned to Ana and her life since arriving in the US.

"I have been working at the coffee shop for six months now. This is my only income. I live in a small room I can rent, and I have nobody here," she recounted, sipping her coffee.

"What about your coworker? Is she your friend?" Spencer asked, biting another pizza slide.

"Who? Sarah? I guess. She is nice, but I wouldn't say she is my friend-friend," Ana acknowledged.

"And you left friends in your hometown?" 

Ana thought about that for a moment.

"Not really, if I'm honest. I'm not very friendly in general. Not here, not there. And don't you dare to judge me for that, okay?" Ana said defensively. Spencer shook his head.

"Hey. I'm not judging you. I wouldn't consider myself much friendly either, you know?" he said. Ana nodded in understanding.

"And I bet people nag you about it all the time," she filled. Spencer chuckled.

"Sort of. But now, I interpret it as a form of concern. It is not always welcomed, though."

"Oh boy, I feel you," Ana agreed, grabbing another pizza slide from the box. "My turn," she prefaced. "What about you? FBI, uh?" Spencer nodded.

"Yes. I got to the Academy when I was twenty. I started as a profiler in the Behavioral Analysis Unit at twenty-two." Ana's eyes widened.

"You fucking kidding me? How is it you were an FBI agent at twenty-two? Didn't you say you had a Ph.D.?" Ana tried to assemble the pieces.

"Uh - well. Three Ph.D., actually. I graduated from school at twelve," Spencer clarified.

"Wow. I thought Doogie Howser didn't exist!" Ana said, amazed. Spencer's brows furrowed.

"Who?" he asked. Was Ana talking about a scientist he didn't know?

"You know, the young medical doctor? The guy who performed surgeries at fourteen?" she clued, but Spencer's face showed no recognition.

"It was a famous TV show! Well, it was where I lived. With the Latin American translation, of course."

A TV show; that's why Spencer didn't hear any of it.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I don't know much about pop culture," he apologized. Of course, it wasn't the first time it happened to him. It was like a continuous remembrance of every Monday's first talk with Garcia when she rambles about her weekend.

"Don't blame you. I watched a lot of shit in my youth, to be honest," Ana dismissed, seeing the troubled expression on Spencer's face.

They talked for a few hours until the yawning came. Since they both had to get up early in the morning, they agreed to go to sleep and continue the next day.

Ana fell asleep with the idea that it had to work out no matter how strange all this was. Spencer drew the same conclusion before falling into a deep sleep.

The next morning, when Spencer came out of his room fully dressed, he noticed Ana had already left for work, leaving a pot of freshly brewed coffee on the counter and a note: 'Good morning. Here's a little treat for the hospitality.'

Spencer smiled, serving a cup and taking a sip of - in his opinion - the best coffee in DC.

When Ana returned from her shift in the middle of the afternoon, the apartment was expectably empty. Having more time than the day before, she took her time to look around. In addition to the shelves lined with books, she noted the few photographs Spencer had. In one of them, a young Spencer appeared with presumably his mother. The resemblance was undeniable. In others, with a group of people. Ana recognized some of them from the afternoon Spencer went to the coffee shop with his colleagues. But if Ana had to compare, more academic certificates were hanging on the walls than photographs. That contributed to Spencer's statement of being a man with little sociability.

She felt creepy peering into Spencer's apartment that way, but she had to learn more about him and prepare for the interview. That was the reason she gave herself, although the curiosity the pumpkin pie boy prompted in her was undeniable.

Late at night, Spencer still had yet to arrive. Ana suspected perhaps he had had to leave the city. Her suspicions were confirmed by a text message later. 'Sorry, I should have notified you sooner. I went to North Carolina on a case. I'll be back in a few days. SR.'

Spencer came back from North Carolina after four days. Exhausted, he was about to leave the BAU after the debriefing when his phone rang. Without looking at the caller-ID, he answered.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Reid? I'm calling from Dr. Fogarty's office. We want to arrange a new meeting with you and your wife to agree on the conditions for your mother's admission to the medical trial. When do you think we can schedule this meeting?"

Spencer kept flabbergasted after the call. Did that mean they had already accepted his mom? They still wanted a meeting with him and his wife. Shit. They wanted to meet Ana. He would have to ask her to come with him—this time with a complete and convincing story about them. He hoped Ana wouldn't have issues about it.

"That's great, Spencer! They only want us to make it official," Ana reassured him. "And, of course, I will go with you." Any apprehension he had was no longer there. Ana was willing, and she seemed truly happy by the news.

"We need to study then," Spencer asserted. That made Ana's smile falter. It was late already, and she had had a hard shift that day.

"Now?" Ana narrowed her eyes.

"Yes. The meeting is in two days. We need to be prepared," Spencer told her, patting the free spot on the couch.

Ana huffed but sat on the couch by his side nonetheless.

"Fine. Okay. What do you want to know today?" she asked, crisscrossing her legs, facing Spencer.

"We should start with the basics. Tell me where you were born and about your family."

Ana bit her lower lip. She wasn't keen on talking about her family but knew Spencer should learn everything about her.

"Okay. Here we go. I was born in a small town named Campanario in 1982. My father's name was Alberto González, and my mother's was María Galvez. They are both deceased."

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbled.

"It's okay. It's been a while already. My mom died when I was twelve. My dad four years ago. I don't have any siblings, or at least that I know of. I'm not sure if my dad had any more children after he left my mom," Ana shrugged.

"So your dad didn't stay with you for too long," Spencer pointed.

"No. But enough time to not want to see him again. He left when I was nine. I only went to his funeral because I knew my mom wouldn't forgive me if I didn't. So much so I'm sure she would come to haunt me in my sleep," Ana let out a sad chuckle. Spencer looked at her, seeing the longing in her eyes. That told him Ana and her mom's bond must have been strong.

"Okay. Your turn," Ana said, grabbing a notepad and a pen from the coffee table. Spencer frowned. "What? I need to take notes. I don't have a brain like yours."

Spencer told Ana about his family and a bit of his childhood. His mom's illness and his dad leaving. What he had to do with his mom when he turned eighteen.

Many of the things he said were recounted as facts- like he was telling a story it wasn't his life. But behind the calm and steady voice, Ana could sense how affected he was for most of them. She couldn't help the comment leaving her mouth.

"I guess we both have enough daddy issues to fill anyone's gap." Once the words left her mouth, she regretted it. She crossed a line, and it was wrong. But she got confused when she saw Spencer laughing.

"You know? When I have to tell this to anyone, the most common phrases I hear are, 'Oh, I'm sorry,' 'It's so sad,' 'Poor kid,' and so on. It's refreshing to see someone trading empathetic words with a tint of irony," Spencer explained.

"Wow. It's good you see it that way. I was thinking of getting my ass kicked because of this," Ana spoke after an exaggerated sigh, prompting Spencer to shake his head and keep laughing.

The meeting with Fogarty was arranged for a Thursday at 4 pm. Ana finished her shift after lunch that day, and Spencer asked Emily for the afternoon off. Spencer picked Ana up from the apartment and drove to the sanitarium. After putting their rings on in the car, they reviewed some details they had discussed in the previous days.

"Dr. Reid. It's good to see you again," Fogarty greeted, shaking Spencer's hand before shifting his gaze to Ana. "And you must be Mrs. Reid."

"Ana Reid. Nice to meet you," Ana extended her hand to Fogarty.

After the formal greetings, Fogarty guided them into the office and invited them to sit.

"Well, Dr. Reid. As my assistant told you by phone, I wanted to review with you and your wife some details regarding your mother's placement in the medical trial," Fogarty explained.

"That means my mom got the spot?" Spencer asked for clarification, and Fogarty nodded.

"Yes, she did. Due to your current marital status and with all the other requirements filled, there does no impede for Diana Reid to getting into the program."

"That's awesome, baby," Ana happily said, squeezing Spencer's hand and looking at him.

"Yes. It is," Spencer confirmed, kissing Ana's knuckles. Fogarty smiled at the couple.

"How long have you known each other? I'm asking since I can see you have only been married for a month," the doctor asked. It was a question Spencer and Ana had rehearsed before.

"A long time, you know?" Ana started. "We met in Vegas when we were young, but after Spencer left for college, we lost contact."

"Yeah. I really thought I would never see her again. Until we found each other here in DC four years ago," Spencer added.

"You must be asking why we didn't marry before," Ana anticipated. "It was kind of my fault. I love Spencer with all my heart, but I'm not a huge believer in institutional bonds, you know? Don't get me wrong; I've been married to him in heart and soul since we reunited years ago, but doing it on paper wasn't my priority until he told me about this opportunity for Diana. That's why I considered it. He didn't want to tell me so I wouldn't feel forced to do it, but it would have been selfish of me not to if I already know I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him," Ana confided Fogarty.

The couple also agreed upon that explanation, but Ana made it so natural that Spencer was impressed. It felt less plausible when they were rehearsing it.

"You must really love Dr. Reid, then. Considering this particular situation, you agreed on something you didn't contemplate before," Fogarty pointed. Ana's cheeks flushed. This time she was projecting her current situation and the fact she actually did something she didn't think of doing. Of course, she has a powerful reason to, but Spencer's motivations were somehow in the mix.

"After knowing, I didn't doubt it. I love Diana, but furthermore, it's for the love Spencer has for her. They always have been each other rock, and I know he would do anything for her and vice versa. Between Diana's illness and Spencer's job, things have not been easy for them," Ana paused before continuing. "You know, I lost my mom in my early youth, and still, there are some hard days for me. That's why I treasure being part of the Reid family. It's a privilege I pretend to honor in all my capacity."

Fogarty looked satisfied with the answer, and Spencer didn't expect it at all. That wasn't something they talked about or agreed to say, and it touched Spencer's heart. His eyes were fixed on her, and Ana could feel it. That's why she fought the urge to look at him back.

Fogarty continued the meeting with technical details about Diana's arrival and the first steps on her treatment. Then he dispatched the couple because he had another appointment.

Ana and Spencer didn't talk until they were in the car, taking their rings off.

"Thank you," Spencer said to Ana, who smiled at him.

"Don't mention it. I told you I would come with you," she reminded him.

"And for what you said there, too. I mean, the last part about being a Reid?" Ana's cheeks tinted a shade of pink.

"Oh. That. Sorry if it was too much," Ana apologized in advance. Spencer shook his head.

"Not at all. Is it something you think, though? I mean, leaving aside the part of us being actually- you know-" he trailed off.

"Leaving aside the part of us being actually in love? Yes." Ana conceded. Spencer nodded, not knowing what else to say. 

To salvage them of an awkward moment, Ana changed the subject. "Well, I guess this calls for a celebration, huh?"

"Yeah, sure," Spencer agreed.

"How about a homemade dinner? I can prepare it," she offered. Spencer shook his head.

"Ana, you don't have to. We can order something," he tried to persuade her.

"No. None of that. Your mom got a spot in a top medical trial. That's great news. You can't celebrate it with pizza or Chinese. But we need to go to the grocery store. With what you have in the fridge, we won't do anything, honestly," Ana complained. Spencer huffed. "Hey, am I lying? Can you name the last meal you cooked with ingredients from your fridge?" Spencer rolled his eyes.

"Fine. We're going to the grocery store, then."

Walking through the aisles, Ana carefully scanned the shelves to pick the needed products. Spencer followed her with the cart, half full of things he had never bought.

"Are you sure we need all of this?" Spencer asked, worried. After putting in the cart two bags of frozen corn, Ana replied.

"Of course. What I want to cook needs veggies, carbs, and meat. Not to mention we need to buy more things for your empty pantry."

"Hey. It's not empty!" Spencer protested.

"Sorry, you're right. It's not empty, just filled with boxes of cereal and coffee beans," Ana corrected mockingly.

"The essentials," Spencer pointed.

"I should have already suspected this after seeing the sugar you put in your coffee. I don't get it, though."

"What?"

"I mean, you're a certificated genius. I bet you have read a lot of research about unhealthy habits and what they can do to you," she said and turned to scan what brand of peas she would choose.

"Sure, I had done it. It doesn't mean I do something about it," Spencer recognized, and Ana looked at him. "I'm not proud, okay? But it had been my life since I can remember," he shrugged. Ana's expression softened. Now connecting the dots, it made sense to her.

"Well, that's why I'm going to show you what you have been missing here, mister," Ana teased. Spencer arched a brow.

"It's doctor, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. Husband-doctor. Why don't you go to get the bread, honey? I'll weigh these tomatoes, and I’ll join you there,” Ana winked. Spencer chuckled.

"Yes, ma'am."

Spencer did so, driving the cart two aisles down and submerging himself in diverse bread types. When he was choosing his brand, a voice it wasn’t Ana's called him.

"Boy wonder?"

"Oh. Hey, Garcia," Spencer chimed like someone caught doing something illicit. "What - what are you doing here?" He stuttered, looking around uncomfortably.

"You know, getting some new shoes," Penelope quipped, but Spencer didn't flinch. "What do you think, genius? The same as you, doing grocery!"

"Oh, yeah. Of course, you do."

Spencer kept standing as Penelope examined his nervous demeanor. Shifting her gaze to the cart, she knew something was off.

"Are you alone?"

"Me? Oh, yeah -" Spencer was about to assure when Ana's voice stopped him mid-sentence.

"I can believe how expensive this store is. These vegetables-" Ana stopped talking when she saw Spencer in front of a blonde she recognized from the coffee shop.

Shit.

Spencer turned to see Ana standing behind him with a bag of tomatoes. "I mean, no. Not alone," Spencer corrected. Garcia arched a brow, an amused smile on her face.

"I know you," Garcia told Ana.

Double shit.

This wasn't expected. Not at all. What would they say now?

“You’re the girl from the coffee shop,” Penelope realized. Ana looked at Spencer for a sign about who would handle this. He nodded subtly.

“Yes. She is. Penelope, this is my friend Ana from Vegas; Ana, this is my friend Penelope from the BAU.”

“Hi! Nice to meet you. Although my curiosity strikes again. Friends from Vegas? It didn’t seem you knew each other when we were at the coffee shop,” Penelope pointed as she shook Ana’s hand.

“Yeah. About that,” Spencer prefaced. “I know you guys. If I had told you we knew each other, you wouldn’t have let her alone, and she was working.”

Penelope scoffed.

“We are not that bad! But okay, maybe we have made a little interrogation. Anyway, what’s the story? Why I haven't heard about you before?”

Ana saw how Spencer’s brain was about to combust, so she thought she could help.

“Well, we lost contact after Spencer left Vegas for college, and I moved with my family to South America. I only returned to the US a year ago and settled in DC the last September, starting at the coffee shop. One day I arrived at work, and Spencer was there. So, in short, you could say we are still reconnecting in our friendship,” Ana explained.

“Oh! Old friendship. I like that. And you sure you’re not dating? I mean, you are doing grocery together. If anyone sees you would say you look like a couple.”

“Penelope!” Spencer scolded. Ana chuckled at the straightforwardness.

“We’re not dating. We are just getting some things here because I promised Spencer to cook him a decent meal,” Ana explained. Garcia’s eyes widened.

“Oh! That's awesome! Gods know how badly this boy needs a homemade meal from time to time.”

“That's what I have been told him,” Ana seconded.

“Can you please at least acknowledge I’m right here?” Spencer complaint.

“We say these things because we love you, boy wonder,” Garcia said, patting Spencer’s shoulder. Ana smiled at Garcia’s display of affection and the cute pout Spencer sported. It seemed more than a relationship between colleagues. They looked like real friends. She made a mental note about it to ask Spencer later.

Her notification ring distracted Penelope from the interrogation she had Ana and Spencer in. Checking the phone, she huffed in frustration.

“What is it, Garcia?” Spencer asked, worried.

“Nah. It’s not a big deal. I just got canceled the dinner I had tonight. And silly me buying nice things,” she complained, peering at her cart.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mumbled.

“Don’t be. Sergio will be better company tonight. Okay, you two, I’ll let you be. It was nice to meet you, nice girl,” Garcia prompted her goodbyes. Ana saw Spencer’s sad face. It was like he wanted to do something for his friend but didn’t know what.

“You know, I’ll make a typical dish I learned from my mom’s family. I don't mind ‘pelar otra papa y poner algo más de agua en la olla,’ really,” Ana said. Both Spencer and Garcia looked at her, puzzled. The girl laughed. “I just said I don’t mind having another guest at dinner. The more, the merrier,” she clarified, looking at Spencer for if she had gone too far. Spencer smiled.

“Oh, no. I don’t want to intrude on a dinner between old friends,” Penelope dismissed. Spencer scoffed.

“Come on, Garcia. I know you are dying to ask more about Ana, me, and our life,” Spencer affirmed. Penelope narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth, faking offense.

“I would never! But since you insist so kindly. Let’s taste Ana’s dish,” Garcia cheered.

Spencer and Ana shared a complicity look. This dinner and this night promise to be exciting, no doubt of it.

——————

Previous chapter < > Next chapter

——————

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine​ @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic​ @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey

[anchesetuttinoino]

Sinistra in piena retromarcia su immigrati e disastro green

🔗 https://www.laverita.info/sinistra-in-piena-retromarcia-su-immigrati-e-disastro-green-2669143079.html

Opsss

[jgmail]

Los 'white trash', los 'desechos blancos' del Reino Unido han gritado '¡Hasta aquí podíamos llegar!"

Johan Hardoy 

'Los desechos blancos': así tratan a las clases populares tanto las pretendidas élites como los inmigrantes que los están remplazando. Pero los "desechos" esta vez han gritado"¡Enough es enough!", "¡Hasta aquí podíamos llegar!"

Un modelo multicultural en crisis

El Reino Unido ha sido durante mucho tiempo una sociedad multicultural en la que se han yuxtapuesto las comunidades étnicas más diversas.

Ya en 1968, Enoch Powell advirtió a sus compatriotas de las catastróficas consecuencias de la inmigración masiva si no se integraban en los valores de la sociedad británica.

Desde entonces, Londres, donde el número de británicos nativos es ahora inferior al 50%, ha vivido violentos disturbios étnicos. En 1981, bajo el gobierno de Margaret Thatcher, estalló uno de ellos en Brixton, la "capital" de la comunidad jamaicana. La más reciente, en 2011, se extendió por todo el país desde el distrito multiétnico de Tottenham. En aquel momento, el primer ministro David Cameron reconoció el fracaso del multiculturalismo a la inglesa, que lleva a cada comunidad a vivir separada de las demás, en detrimento del sentimiento de identidad nacional.

Además, tras el atentado de Londres en 2005, una serie de ataques terroristas islamistas golpearon al Reino Unido, después de muchos años de tolerancia por parte de las autoridades hacia la creciente presencia de yihadistas en la capital (una política iniciada en 1979 con el apoyo británico a los muyahidines durante la guerra soviético-afgana).

En la década de 2010 se produjeron dos grandes escándalos de pederastia en Telford y Rotherham, donde, a lo largo de varias décadas, un asombroso total de 2.500 jóvenes adolescentes blancas de clase trabajadora fueron drogadas, maltratadas, prostituidas, violadas y, en ocasiones, torturadas, obligadas a abortar o incluso asesinadas por bandas de la comunidad pakistaní.

Desde un punto de vista socioeconómico, la clase obrera tradicional inglesa se ha visto empobrecida constantemente por las oleadas de desindustrialización y cierre de empresas, combinadas con el desmantelamiento de los servicios públicos.

La búsqueda de la inmigración masiva, por parte de los gobiernos conservadores y laboristas para cubrir a menor coste las necesidades de mano de obra, ha empeorado aún más la situación al crear una competencia salarial a menudo desfavorable para los trabajadores nativos.

Basándose en los conceptos liberales de la "mano invisible" y el "laissez-faire", los conservadores siguen firmemente comprometidos con el libre comercio globalizado, mientras que el Partido Laborista se inspira en teorías similares a las difundidas en Francia por el grupo de reflexión Terra Nova, según las cuales la sociedad del mañana será "más joven, más diversa, más feminizada" y estará "unificada por valores culturales progresistas", lo que hará que quede obsoleto el "discurso político obrero de izquierdas" (como decía el presidente francés François Hollande: "Perder a los trabajadores, no es  grave").

En 2016, el voto a favor del Brexit, motivado en gran medida por el rechazo a la inmigración masiva y al "dumping social", no cambió la política de los sucesivos gobiernos conservadores, con la excepción de un plan fallido para deportar a Ruanda a los solicitantes de asilo que habían entrado ilegalmente en el Reino Unido.

Esta propuesta fue enterrada nada más tomar posesión el nuevo primer ministro laborista, Keir Starmer, que había públicamente su rodilla en apoyo del movimiento Black Lives Matter.

Mientras tanto, la ministra del Interior, Yvette Cooper, está a cargo de una compra masiva de viviendas en todo el país para asignarlas a inmigrantes...

Un crimen más de la cuenta

La ira que se había estado cociendo a fuego lento en los círculos de la clase trabajadora estalló tras la masacre de las niñas de Southport. Rápidamente se formaron concentraciones, salpicadas de banderas británicas, al tiempo que se gritaban consignas antiinmigración como "¡Hasta aquí podíamos llegar!" y "¡Detengan las pateras!".

Estas concentraciones degeneraron a menudo en violentos enfrentamientos con la policía, a la que se acusó de ser blanda con los inmigrantes. También se produjeron daños en mezquitas y hoteles que alojaban a inmigrantes.

Los medios de comunicación sospecharon que Tommy Robinson, fundador del movimiento English Defence League (hostil a la "islamización" y proisraelí), avivó el fuego de la violencia a través de las redes sociales.

En respuesta, los partidarios de las fronteras abiertas organizaron manifestaciones en varias grandes ciudades bajo el lema "Refugees Welcome". Los llamados activistas antifascistas, reforzados por el diputado Raphaël Arnaud, que acudió para la ocasión, estaban obviamente presentes. Según ellos, los proletarios inmigrantes e ingleses no deben dividirse, sino unirse para luchar contra el sistema capitalista que pretende dividirlos para explotarlos mejor (aquí, como en otras partes, no parece inquietarles estar en la misma línea que las grandes empresas respecto a la acogida de inmigrantes...).

Las milicias pakistaníes también se movilizaron en defensa de las mezquitas, al grito de "Alá Aukbar". Algunos de sus miembros exhibieron armas blancas para mostrar su determinación, mientras que otros atacaron a transeúntes considerados racistas o destrozaron un pub.

En Francia, mientras Marine Le Pen prefirió guardar silencio sobre los acontecimientos, su sobrina Marion Maréchal hizo suyo el lema "¡Hasta aquí podíamos llegar!" en su cuenta X, escribiendo que "el grito de desesperación y rabia del pueblo británico debe ser escuchado".

Doble rasero en los tribunales

El Gobierno ha anunciado que adoptará una postura extremadamente dura ante esta protesta. Debido al hacinamiento en las cárceles, 500 presos comunes serán puestos en libertad anticipada para que los alborotadores puedan ser encarcelados. Un preso que fue cómplice de asesinato al suministrar un arma será puesto en libertad tras cumplir 6 meses, ¡cuando debía cumplir 32!

Los tribunales, que excepcionalmente permanecieron abiertos durante el fin de semana para juzgar a los manifestantes antiinmigración, dictaron sentencias inusualmente duras. Un hombre de unos sesenta años sin antecedentes penales fue condenado a 32 meses de cárcel por participar en una manifestación ¡llevando una porra!

Los llamamientos a la violencia en las redes sociales se castigan con severidad. A raíz de unas publicaciones en las que se pedía la destrucción de un hotel para solicitantes de asilo acusados de vivir a costa de los trabajadores y los contribuyentes, se impusieron condenas de 20 y 38 meses a unos jóvenes.

En cambio, por agredir y herir a manifestantes blancos, el juez condenó a dos inmigrantes paquistaníes a sólo 20 y 18 meses de cárcel.

Preferencia comunitaria combinada con desprecio de clase

En su plataforma X, Elon Musk cuestionó al primer ministro británico por la represión de los manifestantes: "Una policía que ha elegido su bando, doble rasero", "¿No debería preocuparse por todas las comunidades?" En su opinión, "la guerra civil es inevitable".

Nigel Farage, líder del partido Reform UK, que obtuvo el 13% de los votos en las últimas elecciones generales, señaló que "una explosión demográfica sin integración está destinada a acabar mal", al tiempo que denunciaba un doble rasero en la represión policial.

Por encima de todo, los manifestantes tuvieron que enfrentarse a fuerzas policiales locales que a menudo carecían de la formación necesaria para mantener el orden. Con la excepción de Londres y de algunos departamentos especializados, la policía británica está organizada sobre una base territorial, en torno a condados o grupos de condados. Desde 2012, los comisarios son elegidos por el electorado de su región, excepto en la capital, donde el alcalde asume esta responsabilidad dentro del Servicio de Policía Metropolitana.

En el Reino Unido, los casos de pederastia de Telford y Rotherham ilustran lo peor que puede generar el amiguismo comunitario a nivel municipal. Las investigaciones del gobierno han puesto de manifiesto la negligencia de la policía local y de los servicios sociales, que ignoraron deliberadamente los informes e incluso obstruyeron las investigaciones por miedo a ser considerados racistas y alimentar las tensiones raciales.

Aparte de la incompetencia demostrada por unos funcionarios tan obsesionados con la lucha contra la discriminación que ya no tienen en cuenta la realidad de los hechos, estas conclusiones no dicen si unos representantes electos sin escrúpulos intentaron asegurarse el apoyo electoral de ciertas comunidades orientando complacientemente las actividades de los servicios bajo su autoridad.

Aunque no hayan estudiado en Oxford o Cambridge, los "blanquitos" han comprendido muy bien que, si nada cambia rápidamente, están condenados no sólo a la marginación socioeconómica sino también a la dominación cultural de comunidades extranjeras cuya demografía no deja de aumentar. Una vez asegurado el equilibrio de poder a su favor, estas comunidades no dejarán de imponer sus valores y su modo de vida a los alicaídos descendientes del antiguo imperio colonial. Ello sucederá ante la total indiferencia de un Establishment que desprecia soberanamente a  los "white trash", los desechos blancos.

Sin embargo, ¡fue Elon Musk, actualmente el hombre más rico del mundo según Forbes, quien salió en defensa de esta clase trabajadora!

[ideeperscrittori]

Il governo alle prese col traffico di esseri umani.

– Dobbiamo scovare i responsabili del traffico di esseri umani in tutto il mondo. Come procedono le indagini?

– Siamo entrati in azione.

– State seguendo una pista?

– Certo.

– Quale?

– Abbiamo scoperto un terribile traffico di esseri umani a ridosso delle coste libiche.

– Lo sapevo!

– Una cosa davvero disumana. Quella è gente senza scrupoli.

– Non date tregua a quei bastardi. Di che si tratta?

– Qualcuno paga la guardia costiera libica per deportare la gente in campi di concentramento.

– Ehm... Veramente siamo noi a farlo.

– Noi? In che senso?

– Noi, in qualità di rappresentanti dello stato italiano. Paghiamo la guardia costiera libica per respingere i migranti.

– Ah, come non detto. Allora ci siamo sbagliati. Non abbiamo ancora una pista da seguire.

– Male, molto male. Dovete impegnarvi di più.

– Ben presto otterremo dei risultati.

– Continuate a lavorare su questa indagine. Bisogna stroncare il traffico di esseri umani.

FINE [L'Ideota]

[ilpianistasultetto]

Donald Trump dice che e' stato salvato da Dio . Che Dio sta dalla sua parte. Una mezza idea di quanto fosse ingiusto "quel certo Dio" gia' l'avevo da tempo, adesso comincio ad averne la quasi certezza. Sta dalla parte di un miliardario che ha fatto soldi in maniera poco lecita e che vuole deportare la gente povera nei loro poveri paesi. Certamente "quel certo Dio", anche nel nostro Paese non sta dalla parte della gente comune, visto che fino a giugno ha deciso di rendere il clima instabile, un po' meno caldo del solito e molto piu' piovoso, mentre dal primo luglio, prima ha fatto cacciare milioni di persone da quel purgatorio che era il mercato tutelato dell'energia e poi li ha mandati nel girone piu' rovente dell'inferno, quello oltre i 40gradi, tanto da dover tenere accesi i condizionatori 24ore su 24. Tra poco inizieranno ad arrivare le bollette e capiremo quanti saranno ad imprecare "quel certo Dio". @ilpianistasultetto