Luis Herrero: The conversation



One of the many things I have to thank radio for is that it still allows me to participate in some of those old-fashioned conversations where people listen and don’t compete to be the smartest in the group. The art of conversation is falling into disuse. Most of the gossip that abounds in social life brings out the two most recurrent stains of the human condition: pride that prevents us from giving our arm to twist and vanity that stuns us. Maybe my memory is the reflection of a colored past, but I would swear that, not so long ago, to the gatherings of the cafes he went with courage

to have a good time, not to mortify others. Churchill, so fond of witty phrases, used to say that a good conversation should exhaust the subject, not its speakers, and yet it is increasingly common to have to put up with conceited idiots who repeat themselves more than garlic and who have so much good concept of themselves who believe that garlic is food of gods.

I abhor the cretins who feel obliged to dismantle the ignorant poor who sit around them, unable to admit that there can be a single glimmer of light in the replica, and who perpetrate such long and tedious speeches that they would serve to narcotize to a junkie with withdrawal syndrome. There is no animal more fearsome than the communicative man who bores the sheep. That prototype pelma usually gives the floor for a maximum of two minutes, during which it connects to the ground and pretends to listen by making a toothache face. Of course you already know in advance that what they are going to tell you is a predictable observation that does not add anything new to your good judgment. Ramón y Cajal was right: the great talkers tend to be refined selfish spirits who do not seek our treatment to strengthen sentimental ties, but to make themselves admired and applauded.

In the midst of that world of feral gatherings, where each one surpasses the tone of the neighbor’s voice so that his opinion is not buried by the surrounding shouting, some radio programs offer old-fashioned parties, in which life is heard Without receiving lessons from anyone, respect for the opinion of others is practiced, a certain intimacy is transferred and interesting questions are addressed. It may be that the specific circumstances in a radio studio – the red light, the ambient silence, the timed time, the invisible audience, or the fear of ridicule – all contribute to such rare conversations being possible. But what difference does it make? The fact that they exist shows that human beings still retain the ability to dialogue as intelligent creatures. Tortilla and cane skewer because if we do not exercise it we will end up losing it.

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