The last article of 2022

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whatSDid you take the lucky grapes last year to welcome 2022, as per the tacky and superstitious tradition? What’s up? Good? Have you had a good year? Did the grapes give you much luck?

Lucky grapes are a fallacy; luck does not exist; destiny does not stop being more than the just consequence of our acts; we reap what we sow, and in view of what we have been reaping in recent years, we must have planted badly.

Pay attention to me, and if you like grapes, then calmly eat the ones you want, three, six, twelve, or seventeen; eat them at your own pace, without haste, savoring them; pass the ´fascistoid´ bells that will try to set the rhythm of their glottis, in a grotesque spectacle of runaway cheeks, oozing must, skins, seeds and slime.

Take my advice – really – take my advice and sit comfortably surrounded by the people you really care about, and shortly before 12 noon on the last night of the year, enjoy the pleasure of turning off the television; Treat your eyes and ears to a few minutes of peace and quiet, and avoid the pathetic vision of the incombustible little character who, with the smile of a psychopathic alligator in a cape, will try to deceive you again -as every year- once more.

Possibly the ethylic melopea has blurred -for the majority- the pagan moment of the end of last year and in what all the good fortunes that the television spokespersons predicted have remained; because in view of what was harvested during 2022, quietly they would have been cuter.

If during the year 2023 we have to put up with more of the same, God forbid, we will put up with it, but with dignity; and this New Year’s Eve, if he doesn’t like grapes, well, nothing, the television presenter lifts his cape and puts them -one by one- where his back loses his honorable name. Thus we will not have a better year guaranteed, but at least we will begin it with a sincere and serene smile that will be the antithesis to the artificial laughter of the pagan victims of carafe alcohol, that between streamers, blowouts, confetti and the smell of vomit and armpit, will give the traditional and grotesque annual show, in the usual places.

In any case, I want to wish everyone my best wishes for 2023, in which I sense, from the surveys, that things are going to start to change for the better, and not because we deserve it, but because I think we have already purged enough.

Best wishes for 2023; with all my heart and without any type of bastard interest, since unlike television tartuffes, I do not charge to congratulate the New Year.


Antonio Gil-Terron Puchades

Antonio Gil-Terrón Puchades (Valencia 1954), poet, columnist, and essayist. In the 1990s he was an opinion columnist for the newspaper LEVANTE, the newspaper LAS PROVINCIES, and a literary critic for NIGHT magazine. In 1994 he was awarded the 1st National Written Press Award “Círculo Ahumada”. He has been president for more than ten years of the station “Inter Valencia Radio 97.7 FM”, and of the multimedia group of the magazine Economía 3. He has published eight books, and has collaborated on six. He currently writes at Periodista Digital.

The last article of 2022 – Digital Journalist