Many people tell me, and not exactly young, that they no longer need a little, not a lot or nothing from general television to find out about the world news. And of course, not for that with existentialist aroma consisting of killing time. With the Internet they have the entire universe at the disposal of their eyes and ears. I, who do not have such a fascinating tool, that gives you everything through the screen of a mobile phone, I still turn on conventional television sometime, but I can not stand it for a long time in its dizzy company. With exceptions. For example: if a program bears the signature of a communicator as good as singular called Jordi Évole.

I remember anthological moments from El Follonero y Salvados. This guy, in possession of as much street as journalistic instinct, capable of making the stones speak with humanity, premiered several weeks ago a program titled Lo de Évole. For me, and I suspect that for many viewers, it is an event. And I’m interested. What I am not clear, so far, is that I am passionate.

I belong to the most topical plebs convinced that in tasty or major economic crimes only the pringles go to teal, that the system is essentially corrupt and its mechanisms protect great infamy. But it may happen that judges or policemen who take this rare thing of justice seriously delve into the quagmire, from time to time manage to imprison people who seemed untouchable. Évole gives the floor to important guys who fell out of favor. Commendable work, but also complicated. By the way, how traditional, how nice, how sentimental is Granados. I’m still waiting.

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