The worst education

Imagine you received the worst education. Everything that was crooked was implanted in your brain structure. It’s a social standard. It’s not your fault.

Well… maybe it is.

You only grow free once.

Then you are out of the egg.

You are free to fly.

But some, few, are from a diferent way of thinking, right at the other end of what most of the people believe. Which people? What the fuck are you talking about now?

First question in my university: what the fuck are you talking about now?

The students didn’t have a clue of what was going on. That’s how cool my school was going to be like.

I’m too fool for school.

I rather be that.

And not a dick.

You know.

YOU, know.

You, dick.


Link to therapy page. What it is. And the button to get it. Right away. It’s the Internet, baby.

I could be a cheasy fool. I know all about being cheasy. Not because I was one. Because we had a thing going in what we shared there. As intense as that competitive group of free souls. My high school day are way beyond Beverly Hills 90210 ever was. For real. Are you wankers joking? Seriously. Bring papa back. The daughter of the boss stigma. Current history repeating. As if we can learn. And evolve. Into a loop of day after day scheme. As a vision. What are you going to tell me about your job. We have described a way to solve the problem you were all just getting to right now. We have meant nine years to meaningful. Not empty. Like capitalism; as good as it gets culture. The all good new américan struggle that destroyed the silly concept of the old American dream. The house, the kids, three or four, the dog, the porch, the couch in front of the TV. Here’s where some societies have won, while others, lost. TV on your living room. Where you live. I am bigger than IKEA.

We are suddenly left to believe the swedish gang are the perfect formula of the free spirited culture of being fair and bright and as intelectually acomplished as the number of films by Ingmar Bergman actually revised and reconstructed as a metaphor or cinematography making and falling into its own spider web along the decent into the noise and lust of the dark alleys on the free urban cult that expresses what we are as we walk the Earth, our public space that breaths as I step outside my door: I am in a staircase. My own community of neighbors. I am just the last one to arrive. I am the New Spain’s founder. The hype in startup fiction.

People stood in lines to wait for its release. Anouncement: Nine days from now.

That’s how the future unfolds.

It’s like a pass to the chest. Your obligation is to bring it down. To then conect back with the holy Earth, bounce, and step to kick with flying leg towards the impact zone: target, the net, and you, defeated, or with me, in one cry, GOLman.

The sound of that choir is my blessed trick. How the New Camp Nou will react. That moment of bliss. We stop thinking the version of life that comes from Tribuna families. Respect. Insolence, first. The world spun diferently, turns out. There were two simple moves our holy Earth has going: rotating on its axis, which turns out, it’s tilted. How we spin in compliance with the final setup of the land and the seas and the mountains and the valleys, ALLS.

The Earth school Neural System. How our minds will connect. What the system is already offering. A new school that not a scam. But only 99 students were going to built it. 9 year schooling system. Multiversality method by PhD GOLman Elizondo Pacheco. This is the kind of nou we wanted to consider posible in something supposed to be more than a club. I was not your typical bullshitter. I was fighting my own cruzade. On my own. And with a gang of people. Us two. Us three. Us four. Us five. Us six. Us seven. Us eight. Us nine. Nou. A team to startup.


As high as one can go.

This is where we are going.

This is what’s behind.

Explain here your conspiracy theory.

Communities of selforganized substrutures of full self determination. Like painting the ground covered with squared sheets of papers from a notebook that you can buy at your local cooperative.

We can be both a social enterprise and a coop.

So we did the two things.

I am going to put two competing challengers of a dual race between your typical antagonist.

Feel free to be cheasy.

Dickheads allowed. At least they are reading. And not dicking around. Louis CK dick on somebody’s cheek. Imagine a similar angle shot with an ear obsesion of CK. Shit, he’s going to get an Oscar for this role. Same movie: Kevin Spacey, Harvey being Harvey, Woody Allen, Roman Polansky, OJ, the dude who hunt down Kony, Mr. President, Cheech and Chong.

I can take Hollywood and burnt it to the ground. From its ashes spurs… NEWLA.

The story that came from south of the border.

And life was altered from then on.

Time was transformed.

And society shifted to a new consensus: la Societat Supercuidadora.

Aixó está fet.

Está preparat.

Ja sou aquí.

Ìtacca; benvinguts.

Som erratics viatgers creuant el mediterrani; com sempre.

Arriscar la vida.


Deixar morir.

L’argument dels Salvini’s.

Ens trobem amb Trump ara. Ell mana. La seva filla está ahí perque ens està dient que és la següent en la radionovela que veu comprar a les derrerres eleccions. Potser el joc que estem jugant no val per res. Pensem aquesta opció 99 segons. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, …, 98, 99… stop line of thought.

We don’t allow the train of thought to fly around freely. How and where we go when we space out. Our basic freedom right. To go. Encounters at the edge of the multiverse. The multiverse scene. There will be a generation of these minds.

El banc no sap si donar-nos una hipoteca. Jo soc l’agent de risc. Els meus ingresos l’any pasat = 0. That’s how much I’ve fallen. I am not capable of generating income streams. Yet I am capable of designing the processes that warranty the functioning of our complete taking over the problem, by providing the solution that evolves into a new unicorn startup in just 9 days.

That’s the scrip. That’s the story. The social network of self-care-giving Supercuidadoras families. The thing must get out. The word will get around. And life will unfold.

In 999 years, this will be remembered.

Fake news… nah.

RIP capitalism.



Note to lawyers (that includes judges and prosecutors): No system was killed during the production of this film. Capitalism is not dead. I repeat: not death. En. Ou. Tee.

More credits…

False takes: the biggest funeral in history. Capitalism in a ditch. Dramatic music chachans. Capitalism is scared. It know it’s its time. He is going to die. He’s got no regrets. Nor joy. Just pain, right before the anguish of the last breath.

Calm down. It’s just a fiction. Still; you will die.

Deja una respuesta

Tu dirección de correo electrónico no será publicada.