Spanish views from a small town

This weekend is the meeting of the G7 in Biarritz, France. A useless meeting, really, because few within this club are actually in agreement with anybody else, nor do they represent the majority of global population nor global markets. Yet, talks will be held concerning trade, human rights, what to do with Iran and China, and global warming.  In other words, the hypocrisy that is the principle affliction of the wealthy world will be aired these days. Beginning with global warming, the meeting is as hot as the air created by the words that will talk about it.  Seven heads of state from seven different countries, some on opposite sides of the globe, will fly to France on their private planes, all consuming enormous quantities of fossil fuel. Yet, those heads of state will offer their agreements on the fact that we should use more renewable fuels and curtail emissions. This is the twenty-first century. We have things called video conference calls. Just as at the meeting they ...

I'm tired. I'm so tired. I'm tired of the same news of how we are killing each other because of the difference of our skin. I'm tired of hearing how desperate people crossing the Mediterranean are being told to drown in it instead of being accepted by countries who have plenty to share. I'm tired of how stupid mobs follow stupid people spouting inane stupidities. I'm so tired of heads of state ignoring the wants and needs of their citizens and listening only to the wants and needs of those who line their pockets. I'm tired of seeing wildfires that devour everything green and some people's lives and homes. I'm so, so tired of wondering what kind of world awaits our daughter when she is our age. I'm tired. I'm tired of the same routine, day in and day out. I'm tired of sitting in my study. I'm tired of washing the dishes and the clothes. I'm tired of the demands of my beloved pets. I'm tired of always cleaning the same thi...

After having disabled the camera, the man dressed as a prison guard reached the special cell, having made sure no one had taken a second look at him. He took out his keys and carefully, silently, opened the cell door. Inside, the prisoner was asleep, stretched out on the mattress, arms over his head. Carefully pulling the door behind him, the man advanced, a thin wire held out in his gloved hands. He stood behind the pillow, reached down with the wire, quickly wrapped it around the prisoner's throat, and yanked.  The prisoner made one strong, convulsive move as he opened his eyes and his mouth, clawed clumsily at the guard, and then fell back and was still. Without losing a second, the guard prepared the scene. He took out a rope from under his shirt, tied it in a noose around the dead man's neck, and dragged him from the bed. He spread the man in position on the floor. Then he tied the other end of the rope around the projection he had chosen and made sure the man fell fowar...