The post-Maoist guerrilla mostoleña "New Khmer May 12" are already wreaking havoc on my neighborhood. Last evening, a couple of his young guards tried to convince me to conceal a small stockpile of biological weapons in my house. "Come on, man, in your guest room would be the most situationist, and occupies so little space!". I refused because I have a fairly atrophied class consciousness and also I am allergic to almost all bacteria and gases they offered me. "Ask me anything else, guys, but I coléis my brown, then Andrés Torrejón paramilitary commandos are able to ask me any atrocity." After a lukewarm war of words and a small donation saw fit to leave me with my simple life of lumpenproletariat not assimilated.
I'm too old for the class struggle. I am satisfied with gastrointestinal revolutions that have been faithful witness, victim and participant at nightfall, Atocha, in the restaurant "La Cierva" ...
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