Quan fa pocs dies les notícies ens assabentaren d'aquesta primera mort de la grip A a Madrid, jo, que sóc i sempre he estat partidari de la sanitat pública -o siga, un inveterat i incombustible optimista ben pensat- vaig patir dues reaccions alternatives.
La primera, pensar que si no hagués estat una immigrada marroquina potser les coses haguessen anat d'un altra manera.
La segona, que aquesta circumstància no tenia per què ser determinant, que els serveis d'urgència es troben sempre atiborrats de gent, i que aquestes coses passen contínuament i a algú li tenia que tocar.
Que açò hagués passat, a més, al Madrid d'Aguirre i Lamela, era purament circumstancial.
Però ahir vaig ser castigat per les contínues aparicions de Güemes, el gendríssim de Fabra (el multi-imputat president de la diputació de Castelló) digne hereu i successor de Lamela (l'imputador-imputat del cas falsament dit de Leganés) cosa que em va deixar les coses molt clares.
Tots els metges compliren els protocols.
El problema fou que la pobreta Dalila Mimouni, com que no sabia gaire espanyol, -quina barra, atrevir-se a venir aquí sense saber parlar la lengua del imperio!- no els va complir, els protocols dels collons.
I em ve a la memòria la cançó de Bob Dylan Who killed Davey Moore?
Quí matà a Davey Moore? Per què i quina fou la causa?
Not I, van responent tots un a un, NO JO.
I és aquesta cançoneta, no la d'en Dylan, of course, la que m'emprenya sobiranament.
La primera, pensar que si no hagués estat una immigrada marroquina potser les coses haguessen anat d'un altra manera.
La segona, que aquesta circumstància no tenia per què ser determinant, que els serveis d'urgència es troben sempre atiborrats de gent, i que aquestes coses passen contínuament i a algú li tenia que tocar.
Que açò hagués passat, a més, al Madrid d'Aguirre i Lamela, era purament circumstancial.
Però ahir vaig ser castigat per les contínues aparicions de Güemes, el gendríssim de Fabra (el multi-imputat president de la diputació de Castelló) digne hereu i successor de Lamela (l'imputador-imputat del cas falsament dit de Leganés) cosa que em va deixar les coses molt clares.
Tots els metges compliren els protocols.
El problema fou que la pobreta Dalila Mimouni, com que no sabia gaire espanyol, -quina barra, atrevir-se a venir aquí sense saber parlar la lengua del imperio!- no els va complir, els protocols dels collons.
I em ve a la memòria la cançó de Bob Dylan Who killed Davey Moore?
Quí matà a Davey Moore? Per què i quina fou la causa?
Not I, van responent tots un a un, NO JO.
I és aquesta cançoneta, no la d'en Dylan, of course, la que m'emprenya sobiranament.
Who Killed Davey Moore?
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason for?
"Not I," says the referee,
"Don't point your finger at me.
I could've stopped it in the eighth
An' maybe kept him from his fate,
But the crowd would've booed, I'm sure,
At not gettin' their money's worth.
It's too bad he had to go,
But there was a pressure on me too, you know.
It wasn't me that made him fall.
No, you can't blame me at all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason for?
"Not us," says the angry crowd,
Whose screams filled the arena loud.
"It's too bad he died that night
But we just like to see a fight.
We didn't mean for him t' meet his death,
We just meant to see some sweat,
There ain't nothing wrong in that.
It wasn't us that made him fall.
No, you can't blame us at all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason for?
"Not me," says his manager,
Puffing on a big cigar.
"It's hard to say, it's hard to tell,
I always thought that he was well.
It's too bad for his wife an' kids he's dead,
But if he was sick, he should've said.
It wasn't me that made him fall.
No, you can't blame me at all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason for?
"Not me," says the gambling man,
With his ticket stub still in his hand.
"It wasn't me that knocked him down,
My hands never touched him none.
I didn't commit no ugly sin,
Anyway, I put money on him to win.
It wasn't me that made him fall.
No, you can't blame me at all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason for?
"Not me," says the boxing writer,
Pounding print on his old typewriter,
Sayin', "Boxing ain't to blame,
There's just as much danger in a football game."
Sayin', "Fist fighting is here to stay,
It's just the old American way.
It wasn't me that made him fall.
No, you can't blame me at all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason for?
"Not me," says the man whose fists
Laid him low in a cloud of mist,
Who came here from Cuba's door
Where boxing ain't allowed no more.
"I hit him, yes, it's true,
But that's what I am paid to do.
Don't say 'murder,' don't say 'kill.'
It was destiny, it was God's will."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason for?
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason for?
"Not I," says the referee,
"Don't point your finger at me.
I could've stopped it in the eighth
An' maybe kept him from his fate,
But the crowd would've booed, I'm sure,
At not gettin' their money's worth.
It's too bad he had to go,
But there was a pressure on me too, you know.
It wasn't me that made him fall.
No, you can't blame me at all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason for?
"Not us," says the angry crowd,
Whose screams filled the arena loud.
"It's too bad he died that night
But we just like to see a fight.
We didn't mean for him t' meet his death,
We just meant to see some sweat,
There ain't nothing wrong in that.
It wasn't us that made him fall.
No, you can't blame us at all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason for?
"Not me," says his manager,
Puffing on a big cigar.
"It's hard to say, it's hard to tell,
I always thought that he was well.
It's too bad for his wife an' kids he's dead,
But if he was sick, he should've said.
It wasn't me that made him fall.
No, you can't blame me at all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason for?
"Not me," says the gambling man,
With his ticket stub still in his hand.
"It wasn't me that knocked him down,
My hands never touched him none.
I didn't commit no ugly sin,
Anyway, I put money on him to win.
It wasn't me that made him fall.
No, you can't blame me at all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason for?
"Not me," says the boxing writer,
Pounding print on his old typewriter,
Sayin', "Boxing ain't to blame,
There's just as much danger in a football game."
Sayin', "Fist fighting is here to stay,
It's just the old American way.
It wasn't me that made him fall.
No, you can't blame me at all."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason for?
"Not me," says the man whose fists
Laid him low in a cloud of mist,
Who came here from Cuba's door
Where boxing ain't allowed no more.
"I hit him, yes, it's true,
But that's what I am paid to do.
Don't say 'murder,' don't say 'kill.'
It was destiny, it was God's will."
Who killed Davey Moore,
Why an' what's the reason for?
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