Did you know they’re doing Covid anal swabs in China?!

Anal swabs

What we are experiencing reminds me of Les Luthiers, only that when the show began they put it to Jorge Corona instead of the humorous group for which I subscribed.

We cannot say that we got here because we were not the most idiotic exemplary students in the solar system.

So today I ask you just one favor: stop sending me photos of the chinos with the pants on the knee and the buttocks in the air.

Instead, three hundred white bottoms later, I received another photo of another Chinese sticking his butt out the window for a drive-in swab.

I hope you don’t order a Starbucks Frappuccino through that same window.

Dear window, we have been through the holocaust, but what you had to experience is unprecedented.

And that’s fine, at this time in history they kill us little by little; sticks in the nose, sticks in the anus, compulsive vaccination, isolation, muzzle and 5G towers. If it were up to me: firing squad and firing squad, because come on guys, who can give up their souls like this without an iota of resistance?

The point is that with this that they want to die little by little, I have to wait for them to disappear from my timeline at their speed, not mine. Living with a species that is an offshoot of the system and putting three bowls of popcorn a night to superimpose the anguish of this dystopia. Thank God there is Florida, a paradise five hours from this damn ranch full of sheep with espadrilles, cross-body bags and electric cars. Complaining that it does not rain and that “global warming” is going to ruin the planet that they have neglected since they were born.

I need a change and I need it now. Nine years surrounded by zombies has exceeded my patience; I have struck out all the squares of a race against hand and I feel that I cannot be asking for more permission to be free and happy. It was finished left-handed, see you at the slaughterhouse. They have already delivered seventy percent of their bodies to the state, with the remaining thirty we use covidiote ash as compost for the plants. It’s a deal!

What was not a “deal” was the search for temporary apartments in Miami to house my little body tired of going into the sea and looking for work.

The attack: the reviews.

The sinister: the cockroach.

Everything came very fresh and summery with some brutal images that looked out over the Atlantic until blood came out from a critic that stabbed my sensitivity with the post-war insect.

“All very nice until the cockroach appeared,” wrote a lady, leaving my illusion stained forever.

I am a woman who has finger-traveled four thousand kilometers, I have lived on three continents, I have stolen all the cars from my family since I was fourteen years old, I broke an elbow, a small toe and went through four surgeries, but when A cockroach appears, all my courage goes TO THE CHINGADA. Bipolar disorder and insomnia for three days.

And if it is the flying one, I doubt that I will regain my self-esteem for several weeks.

—And if Ceci, in Florida it is very hot, they see cucas, it is normal —said to me a friend who travels often to the state of the oranges— and apparently of this nasty insect.

I was raised in Argentina, in a city where I had to battle moths, crickets, African mosquitoes, beetles, ex-boyfriends, and vinchucas. But if I can fight the mass of covidiots that are risking our species, I have to overcome this panic over an insect that has survived the atomic bomb.

After three days without sleeping thinking that a bug is walking down my shimmering legs while I rest, I found a room in a top neighborhood in the city. A studio attached to a house with an owner who did not take long to respond when I confessed my uneasiness to inhabit a place as a woman traveling alone.

He told me that he was married to another man and if that’s why I shouldn’t worry. As my adrenaline shot down by discarding the image of Charles Manson as a roommate, he sent me yet another message saying that if I stayed with them, I needed to wear a muzzle every time I left the house.

This is the plague, not the roaches. They reproduce with our money, they live among us, they eat junk food, but they fear the flu.

I said thank you and see you later and continue the search for a promising future with Raid in hand, pop corn and a 38 in case I have to shoot some bullets at a chinstrap who threatens me with a swab.

See you at the beach!

Ceci Castelli

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http://www.cecicastelli.com/es/bl-2/313-hisopados-anales

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