Tati Bernardi: Jasmin and fecal involution – 03/10/2023 – The Worst of the Week

Dear reader, reader and Letrux, the singer. This is the dream column of a chaotic, neurotic, psychotic person. I’m still not psychotic at the level of “having a characteristic entry in a psychiatry book”, but I’ve been working for years with my love and my commitment to the madness that exists in all of us. And now our time has come. Our wonderful channel of communication. We’ll meet in this column.

Every week, the worst (let’s agree that deep down they are the best, check?) questions sent to the wonderful email address [email protected] will be answered here. Disrespectful and Bolsonarist demeaning (it seems pleonasm) I will ignore it, because I urgently need, according to my Chinese doctor, to improve the good energy of my kidneys.

Jasmin, you are the first voted worst of the week. Congratulations. His theory that humanity, at least as far as you know it, has had more and more difficulty defecating—and this being the fault of so many involutions reported in the last decade—thrilled my second brain. And I was able to celebrate a good bathroom and feel able to wish a day full of relief for my fellow man.

Why on earth did we take to the streets in 2013? Why? Could it be that we just wanted to take a shit and couldn’t, so we all went to evacuate democracy together? I can’t stand a fitness blogger teaching “followers” how to shit. My ancestors worked much better. My grandparents, who even found Collor interesting and cute, were like “I can’t stay out in the street because I shit three times a day”. For a future with less cabinets of stale hate and more cabinets of love beaten with papaya, linseed bran and psyllium.

The wonderful Jean, second worst of the week, is very uncomfortable with the man-eaters and wonders how we got to this point. He explains: after the craze for cartoons, movies and series with zombies, now civil cannibalism has become a fad, where a little human actually eats another little human.

This fad didn’t reach where I live, but I remembered an old article from Sheet, I think from 2012 (no wonder everything went wrong in 2013), which explained that if you find someone’s little arm giving soup on the street and end up tasting the limb with potatoes, you haven’t committed any crime. Crime is if you cut off a living person’s little arm. I think, Jean, that militancy should free people to say that they want to eat so-and-so and want to be eaten by so-and-so. In a sexual sense, obviously. Because, without the liberation of metaphor, without the unconscious free to exercise its predatory libido, we can all become criminals who cut off limbs.

Carlos, third worst of the week, says he’s a feminist and wants to know why daughters can’t have their father’s name and “Júnior” in their last name. He got weird. Did he mean the mother’s name? Did he mean that it is rightly and honorably open for his daughter to be whatever gender she wants? Did he mean the father’s name in feminine? Why does he want a Carla Junior or Carla Daughter so much? You need to see that about being a feminist, Carlos.

Ronaldinho, 70 years old (I made you old on purpose, old bastard) wants to know if my blonde vagina fucks naturally or if I smoke weed. My black pubes have natural sex exactly for the reason that I don’t paint them blond, depraved old man.

Silvia, 67 years old —who is fine without a man and doesn’t need a man and wonders why the hell a woman thinks she needs a man so much—wants to know why the cute grandpa from the app, with whom she had a delicious night of good conversation and hot kisses, gone. I think, Silvia, that he disappeared because you must have told him that you don’t need a man.

I don’t need a man either, but when I really like one and he disappears, I realize I don’t need anything else either. Not even getting out of bed, for example. Not even a bath. I suffer the same as I suffered when I was 14 years old. It sucks, friend. Go after another. We do need a loving relationship. You don’t believe in the talk of the fitness blogger, who is also self-esteem coaching, and who teaches you to take a shit and not need a man. Not that many times they aren’t the same thing.

Danilo has a very mental and cynical girlfriend who has the hots for me. But he doesn’t think she could get laid with another very mental and cynical woman. Who would “relax” us? What do we conclude from this story? That Danilo knows the role he plays in the life of a very mental and cynical woman: being kind of dumb.

Violet completely failed at not being perfect. It shouldn’t even be among the worst, but I couldn’t close without mentioning her. The reader compared the ChatGPT with a male employee, straight, cis, white, average, without depth, boçal, superficial and without bibliographical references. And she said that precisely because of this she is afraid, as always happens in Brazil, of losing her job to him. Brilliant, dear.

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