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Addicted to indignation

I like getting angry so much that I look for opportunities everywhere

Far right demonstrators in Madrid on Saturday.
Far right demonstrators in Madrid on Saturday.Uly Martín

Hi, my name is Joaquín Reyes, and I’m addicted to indignation.

I started gradually, like everybody else, with general stuff: the Púnica corruption network, the Bankia credit cards, the preferential shares fraud, evictions, attempts to privatize the health system

Then I continued getting angry, with the same level of vehemence, over smaller issues: when the heater broke down while I was showering; at the supermarket when people at the back of the line ran to the newly opened checkout despite being told to respect those who were there first; and at pedestrians who walk on the cycle path, regardless of whether I’m actually riding a bike or not.

In fact, I like getting incensed so much that I have reached the point where I look for a reason to get angry even when there isn't one readily available. I now wait at traffic lights and when a car doesn’t stop on red, I start huffing and puffing.  I peer into paper recycling bins hoping to find plastic items, and when I do I shout out: “Which part of paper recycling don’t they understand?”

So far, it was all pretty normal. But last Saturday morning I went out for a beer in Madrid’s Malasaña neighborhood (feeling downcast after the ban on the estelada was overturned) and found the best table free. And that’s not all: there was a very friendly and solicitous waiter who brought me an ice-cold beer with a hummus tapa. It was hell on earth, I tell you. And then, when everything seemed lost, out of the blue came this extreme-right-wing demonstration to save the day. Everything was back to normal for me. Thank you, Concepción Dancausa.

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English version by Nick Lyne.

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