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Athayde Petreyze: Lula and Janja's link brings together the finest flower of leftist society

The parade of cars in front of Espaço Bisutti, the place chosen for the wedding of Lula and Janja, codenamed Rosângela, is simply a luxury. The fine flower of leftist society abandoned luxury cars and arrived balancing their Armani suits and Chanel dresses on bicycles, in popular cars and even in a friendly pau-de-arara that one of the bride and groom made available to those who wanted to feel “the real taste of misery”.

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Registering the red taPT of this special day was a team of the always elegant filmmaker Petra Costa.

At the gate, the guests (among them me) were welcomed by the friendly and helpful Zicão. Who, in exchange for a cup of coffee, took pity on the fact that my dog ​​(a Lulu from Pomerania named Fidel) had eaten the invitation and let me in. “And you, sir, are a gossip columnist! If it’s social, it’s ours!”, he said.

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Zicão’s elegance in pocketing my maned wolf set the tone for the party that lasted nine hours. and in which tons of food produced in MST settlements were consumed, as well as hectoliters of the finest nectar from the Scottish Highlands.

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Janja, the bride and future the first lady of Brazil (according to surveys commissioned by one of the guests), entered the room as if making her debut in leftist society. To the sound of the jingle “Lulalá”, masterfully performed by Pabblo Vittar, she paraded through the tables, arousing the envy

white

of the distinguished ladies present at the nuptials.

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Deputy Marcelo Freixo nudged me here to warn that “white envy” is a racist term.

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Janja opted for the traditional white dress, suggesting that purity that inhabits the heart of every revolutionary. It was made by the feminist collective Maoist Proletarian Workers (TPM).

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The bride looked beautiful – as much as possible. But the center of attention was really Lula. Incredible the magnetism of this man!

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The groom, nervous as if this were not his third marriage, glowed under the incessant flashes of minstrel Ricardo Stuckert. This time, however, no expensive watch on the left wrist. On the advice of his marketers, Lula chose to concentrate the valuables in his right hand.

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As I’m already a little high after a few glasses of Cave Geisse Brut , I forgot to mention that Lula arrived in the Beetle 66 that he rode alone and in which he lost his finger during a tire change while fleeing the Military Dictatorship. At least that’s what I understood from a conversation between two ex-guerrillas from Araguaia who couldn’t stop singing “It was worth it, ê, ê/ It was worth it, ê, ê”.

Êta good sparkling wine!

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At the Unicamp economists’ table, I witnessed a heated debate on price freezes. With his mouth full, one of the guests, quoted to be Minister of Finance in a future 3rd term of Lula, suggested confiscating the savings. “But this time it will work!”, he said, to everyone’s amusement.

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Well, well, but who do I see there? Oh no, forget it. I thought I saw two STF ministers, but it must have been a mistake. Dining with the president of the Senate is one thing; attending the ex-boss’s wedding is quite another. By the way, better delete it.

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When signing the papers, Janja used a Montblanc Meisterstück Firenze, while Lula opted for the good, old, infallible, cheap and efficient thumb. All applauded.

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Lula and Janja exchanged rings, but I didn’t see it because it was in the bathroom.

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Newcomer to leftist high society, Geraldo Alckmin, Lula’s new sidekick, seemed a bit out of place, not knowing whether to protect his wallet or he let it be expropriated happily by the cream of the proletariat that surrounded him.

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The cake, in the shape of a star, occupied the center of the hall. When Janja went to cut it, the guests were tense at the possibility of Rosemary Noronha emerging from inside the candy. The first piece of the cake was given to José Dirceu, who wore a Chico Buarque mask to avoid being recognized, but our investigative journalism team was smarter.

When it came time to cut the groom’s tie, there was a problem: the network of Espaço Bisutti (which in Italian means “Down with Capitalism!”) did not support data traffic and the guests could not access their accounts in Switzerland. A pity.

By the end of the party, Guilherme Boulos refused to go home. “Occupy, resist, subvert!”, he shouted under the table reserved for the conscious opposition of the PSOL.

Athayde Petreyze is a social columnist, historian, nuclear physicist and communist coach. His book “How to Drink Wine Without Lifting the Littlefinger – A Guide to Etiquette for the Successful Left”, with a preface by Dilma Rousseff, won him two kikitos, five tortoises and almost the Nobel.

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