The radiant core of La Moncloa could not think of anything better last Sunday afternoon than to announce the dismissal of “Paco Salazar’s right hand”, without specifying which of his two prehensile organs he used to lift his fly when leaving the … bathroom and tried to touch the hair and chest in his afternoons of glory and office, the famous presidential advisor, Sevillian advisor, palace seducer and, in short, a great unknown of sanchism. Is and was Salazar right-handed or left-handed? Which hand did he reach out to try to catch? Right, far right, far right? Did he do his nails? Did he have a good touch? The persistent opacity of Pedro Sánchez’s environment will leave us with the desire to connect the dots and determine the scope and consequences of an amputation whose medical part resorts to the regressive cliché of “the right hand” – the good one – and ignores the tail as a progressive appendage and advanced metaphor of a major surgery whose semantics remain anchored in the canons of an era that we fortunately believed to be outdated.
Open or closed, raised or lifted fist, magnetized by a breast or freed from all ethics, Salazar’s right hand has a symbolism worthy of the most refined Sanchist heraldry, alongside the already established furniture – or mottos such as “both roll, both roll, José Luis and Santos” – of the Peugeot, the neon tube, the chistorra, the Paqui card, the brother’s stick or the plumber’s biscuit. There is still room on the shield for the right hand of Paco Salazar, the scapegoat of a clean man who, without ceremony, sacrificed the great contribution of the former advisor of La Moncloa to the process of resignification and sublimation of the figure of the charo, essential in the Spain that advances and whose rescue came the Observatory of the Image of Women while the irradiating core of La Moncloa, it is a coincidence, released the saw Gigli to cut off poor Salazar’s good hand, the one about “even the tail, everything is Paco”.
In its fatwa, the Observatory of the Image of Women attempts to establish a taxonomy of the charo, a progressive specimen which it places in the guild of “administration officials – local, regional or state” and whose physiognomy places them headlong into the “category of supposedly undesirable women”. Coming out of the bathroom, this is where Salazar enters, our Paco, the one on the right. If the Presidency has almost five hundred advisors and to this figure we apply the count from the old slide lists, rounding up we arrive at around 250 women, presumed charos due to their performance at work and sexually undesirable according to the canon of the Observatory itself, women of mass and commitment who, despite the campaign of ridicule from which they suffer from the reactionary wave, managed to awaken Salazar’s libido. The nineteen pages that observers of the Ministry of Equality needed to denounce the stereotypes which surround these unfortunate and vilified civil servants are wet and hygienic paper next to the practical demonstration of Paco, the advisor, now one-armed, who made them desirable, to the point of immolation.
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