The victory of the Victory

We read in the NOW that the management of the Audiovisual Corporation of the Valencian Community "has decided to demote the head of meteorology at the À Punt network, Victoria Rosselló." This is the professional who, on that terrible day, the day of the DANA storm that blanketed the Valencian Country in mud and death, warned the public on air, with a grave expression, with these words: "I've seen many DANA storms, and I can assure you that I've never seen one like this." These words, addressed to "you all," with that "I can assure you," are revealing and, right now, deeply moving.

Firing her from her job is the closest thing to killing the messenger we've ever seen. The gesture is so, so obvious, it's shameful. Who kills the messenger? The immature one. The one who refuses to accept what is happening. And who is the immature one? The child, of course, but also the petty tyrant, the emperor, the absolutist, the one who believes that power comes from God.

The government—if we can even call it a "government"—of Carlos Mazón fires the weather woman who warned of the danger on television (what good is a public broadcaster, otherwise?). If she hadn't warned us, perhaps she'd still be there? What a bitter paella I imagine that afternoon in El Ventorro, how lucky I am not to be part of this conspiracy, of this elite that makes and breaks things. How shameful to tell that meteorologist to leave, with a technical excuse, perhaps.

"We've lost the war," said the messenger. Well, let's kill him. We don't want to see it. Power must be, above all, comfortable. Kill him, do it cleanly and quickly, so I can stay in the triclinium eating, indolent, grapes. In reality, her demotion is a victory for her, but a bitter one. There will never be a chance to smile.