World

“““I'm not a PT member and I never have been. But this year I'm with Lula*”””

It is said that there is a magic number of name-calling that, once reached, causes the target of the curse to completely change his mind about whatever the disagreement may be. That’s why it’s so important, in the face of an absurd, unacceptable, regrettable, reprehensible opinion and so kind of meh, to curse the person you want to convince as much as possible.

Nobody knows what the number is. magic for every curse, nor how likes, compliments and pats on the back act as an antidote. If they act. So the important thing is to keep trying. Cursing, cursing, cursing. This is the only way to repeat what happened to that chronicler from Paraná.

Which one? That one, I don’t want to mention the name to not give moral. aqueeeele . No one is sure which name-calling brought about the change. The Nameless itself is contradictory in this sense. At one point he says it was the “Nazi/Fascist” combination; in another he says he was “stupid/idiot”. In any case, they are two of the most obvious and vulgar combinations of the language – a clear indication that common swearing is more efficient than the puns with “Bozo”.

It is only known that it was from one hour to the next. Rumor has it that the phenomenon took place on a Friday 13, while Lula was speaking to a crowd (according to the photos PT officers) in Vila Madalena. For some reason, the digital brigades were more excited than usual that day, and they chose Sicranov as their target. The idea, at first, was just to give that basic cancel. But how to cancel someone who was born cancelled? (Oh!). So the justification given by the Committee was to simply swear to see what happened. At CUT it’s like this: an order given is an order fulfilled.

In the beginning it was just “Nazi/Fascist” and “stupid/idiot”. (Why is it that swearing always goes in pairs?). Then came a gang of Unprintables. You know how it is. They’re always around, those %##@&¨% of &%%$#. Tired, the Unpublishables gave way to more subtle insults: the youngsters trained in Passive-aggressiveness by PUC. “I don’t know if it’s naivety or bad faith” almost took the first place from “Nazi/Fascist”. But passive-aggressively swearing takes a bit of intelligence – and the digital brigades were short on manpower.

Then came the puns, but best not to mention it. Give no idea. In fact, I don’t even know why I brought it up. At 07h07 of that Friday 13, The One Who Sometimes Is ON and Sometimes Is OFF took his cell phone, saw that there was a notification on a social network (the one about the little bird; but since she didn’t give me the blue seal, I won’t say the name), she opened the app and saw the magic curse in her magic number. Idiot as he is, I would bet on the “Nazi”.

Upon reading that, Mosquito Airport realized that absolutely everything he thought about politics, religion, philosophy, literature, music and even, I don’t know, gastronomy was wrong. Totally wrong. “We must seize the means of production! PT journalists of the world, unite!”, he would have said as soon as he came out of a cinematic mini-trance, complete with dry ice and all. Even a fan of Athletico Paranaense he turned there, at the time. To prove that he was serious, very serious, very serious, right there, in the middle of the newsroom, he danced a funk, said he was an atheist and gorged himself with a bowl of açaí.

Around him, a small group of those that filled PT rallies gathered. “Write a mesoclisis!” asked an editor. He replied, of course, that he would write it. “Says that unionism is important and asks for a raise for the category!” someone shouted. No sooner said than done. “Write an ode to Alexandre de Moraes”, suggested the editorialist. And off the ex-conservative went to measure the decasyllable lines. “Praise a book by Paulo Coelho”, tried another. To which he replied that it wasn’t that easy to change his mind about certain things either, that he still needed some time, maybe some heavier cursing…

Next to Tal , the editor, as incredulous as he was bastard, provoked and even bet a tapauér full of rain dumplings. “I doubt you will enter [rede-do-passarinho-azul-cujo-nome-não-vou-mencionar-porque-não-me-deu-selo-azul] NOW and say that you are not PT, you never were, but that this year you will be with Lula,” he said. He didn’t give another one. And that’s why, at this moment, Bozonoff is fed up with rain cookies, drinking hot Toddy, wrapped in a blanket with Lula’s face, reading “O Pensamento Vivo de Felipe Neto” and listening to the great democratic intellectual Anitta.

Pepê is not expected to stay in this state of acute petty for long. After all, the persuasive power of name-calling has its limitations. In fact, it is very likely that tomorrow he will recover his senses. In the meantime, however, it is worth celebrating the temporary support. And, when in doubt, curse, curse, curse more. The magic will repeat itself!

As if the title’s multiple quotes weren’t a confession of defeat enough, I thought it was good to include this asterisk to make it clear: this is a humorous text that plays with the idea that swearing is capable of convincing someone to change an entire belief system, to the point of voting for an ex-con.

Back to top button