Following the superb suggestion of the supreme sovereign, let us now assume that he continues to entertain – without sufficient support – his senile dreams and his sincere syllables… Ladies and gentlemen, let us assume that his Serenissima deserves seriousness and yes, certainly yes: Hernán Cortés lied and the whole absurdity of human sacrifices in pre-Hispanic Mexico is a mystification that the Conqueror propped up with the help of sycophantic tlacuilos. (Fisgonapixtli, among others) of the call First transformation for the development of codexes or comics that captured bloody scenes on amate scrolls.
Cortés not only imagined hearts beating in the tattooed hands of the priests of the national teachers’ union (Xochimilco section), but he also invented what is known as pyramids. Nostalgic for the Colosseum in Rome (which his eyes had never seen) and wanting to surpass the Giralda in Seville in size, Cortés commissioned his cousin Alonso García Bravo to build the monumental towers or clues tending to be irregular polygons which more or less cloned the triangles of Egypt (which neither knew) and from there rises the Size (title with which His Lord titles the booklet where he establishes his revelations). According to Jesusa the Jesuit (in the second sense of the adjective), Cortés celebrated the birth of greatness with carnitas (an enterprise for which he lied about the non-existence of pigs in the Anáhuac valley) and, making all Fray Bernardino de Sahagún’s informants pass through the Arc de Triomphe (another error of the bearded man), he invented pulque with the remains of the last barrel of wine he was shipwrecked in the waters of the Gulf of Mexico (now re-invented by another madman).
D. Hernán lies when he sings the first bolero in Malinche, when he entrusts Bernal Díaz del Castillo with the legitimacy of the bite as a very modern accounting and administrative resource and he lies in the third relationship letter when he assured the King of Spain that the exchange rate in Mesoamerica was set by an infallible council of ancient Chichimecas and that tourism with local interpreters had no connection (forgive the redundancy) with the organized crime of Tlaxcaltecas or Cholultecas. He also lied when he had the canvas painted as a map of the road to Las Hibueras, where he traced with his finger the Autopista del Sol (inaugurated almost five centuries after his time).
It is absolutely false that the so-called Aztec people (Mexicas, children of the Sun) ignored horses, because when Cortés’ sweaty companions arrived there was already the popular stick of the Atlantean soccer team (who always played like a hipster) and the legend that he ordered the burning of the feet of the courageous Cuauhtémoc is a profound lie (due to the archaeological remains that confirm the serious case of athlete’s foot from which he suffered). from’endenantes the Aztec monarch) and it is not entirely true that Cortés foreshadowed the Balderas metro station or the Azteca stadium.
What is not a lie is that at the end of the cruel battles of the Conquest (consummated on the day of San Hipólito), condemnations and accusatory slogans began to appear on the whitewashed walls of Cortés’ house in Coyoacán. This was the birth of graffiti in what we now call Mexico and it is known that many conquerors took advantage of the early morning hours to demand from the once incontestable captain general his share of the spoils, his fees incurred since the beginning of the enterprise. conqueror It is said that the Marquis Cortés, already declared, ordered insults and complaints to be erased with white lime as if he were abusing the old corrector that the first secretaries of the old bureaucracy used for their originals on a typewriter (another Courtesian invention).
It is entirely true (and prophetic) that Cortés, already tired of painting on his wall, went out himself, brush in hand, and wrote the following sentence: “White wall, dupe paper» that Bernal Díaz collects in his True story (also recently accused of lying by a French historian with the soul of a novelist). The moral of all this distraction is that the soliloquies in the asylum, the imbecile discussions after dinner in the canteen, all the social networks… and even certain mamotretos published on the Planet without confirmation or verification of their paragraphs, are nothing other than white wall; that is to say, a presidential papyrus for kites and assholes… role of fools.