The children no longer want to continue the family tradition. Inherit a tent, which will only create them problems before having to end up throwing the closure, it is less rewarding to take exams. It is leading to the economic crisis: which subverts until most deeply rooted values. Those who do have, on the other hand, your guaranteed future are the children of the television gulfs of this inbreeding species of famous on account of their successive public and notorious copulations with other celebrities who enjoy the same and unique merit than they. The last specimen of those endless drudgery sagas of growing trash TV that inundates us is a chiquito of 21 years, name Clement and son of Alessandro Lecquio and Antonia dell Atte. Raptor, the hand of her proud MOM, has already made his televised debut in the last program of the histrionic Jorge Javier Vazquez, talking about the virile member of his father (my father falls in love easily, I also have that weakness), about the pitiful life of his spirited mother and about other dispensable intimacies own and those of others.
A cathode baptism, therefore, for everything high. As you can see, shoots of these curious social parasites begin early to follow paternal steps, unlike the children of doctors, lawyers or pharmacists, loaded with fascinates and squabbling when it comes to take charge of the family firm. Of course that those don’t have to fight with customers and suppliers, hire employees, pay VAT, but count simply their golferias, skin to their families, as do the brothers Matamoros, and talk of his lovers, ex-lovers and future adventures of bed as if such a thing. The lush payroll of exhibitionist television has, what looks, guaranteed its biological relay. Enough to be son, nephew, brother-in-law or up to a famous maid to find a huequecito at the ghota’s people who live by the face: the genitals, would have to say, if we intend to be more precise.