What’s Wrong With Spain? It’s Pedro Sánchez.
Since my American friends endured a stupid president a few years ago, they’ll understand what we’re feeling now: that mix of pride in being Spanish and the profound secondhand embarrassment Pedro Sánchez inspires. We must be a pretty tough country if we’re still standing after seven years with such a useless tyrant at the helm. Our only consolation: Saint Peter has personally informed me that this suffering will count as seven years off our Purgatory in the afterlife.
Months ago, during the NATO debates on defense spending, Pedro Sánchez refused to reach the 5 percent of the budget demanded by the United States. Trump then said, “What’s wrong with Spain?” Perhaps this is a good time to explain:
Sánchez was a nobody in politics when he managed to rise to the position of secretary general of the PSOE in 2014 under strange circumstances and amidst a huge crisis within the party. In 2016, he lost the elections, but refused to abstain in the investiture vote for the winner, Mariano Rajoy (PP), and was expelled from his own party for wanting to push Spain into an indefinite electoral deadlock. He’s like a small child who always has to be the center of attention. Sometimes I even feel sorry for him because in his case, it’s not a personal choice; it’s obviously pathological, some unresolved trauma. But the moment I have to pay my own taxes, any pity I had for him vanishes.
Contemporary socialists don’t seem to care much that their leader won through fraud — apparently, that’s the norm on the left.
Sánchez ran again in the 2017 PSOE primaries and won by cheating, according to the later confession of his own collaborators, who are now in prison. Contemporary socialists don’t seem to care much that their leader won through fraud — apparently, that’s the norm on the left.
Given what we know today, it’s impossible to understand his political survival without considering his father-in-law, the owner of a significant network of brothels and gay saunas in Spain. In at least one of these establishments, in the center of Madrid, ongoing journalistic investigations claim that, years ago, secret recordings of prominent political and journalistic figures were made. I suppose that tactic sounds familiar. (RELATED: Spain’s Far‑Left Dictatorship Has Become a Reality)
In 2017, Sánchez realized he would never win elections with the people’s vote, so he skipped the formality. He made secret deals with all the minor parties, communists, and any other riffraff you might find growing hair in the back of the fridge. He promised them everything, just like I would if I were face-to-face with María Sharápova. He sold off Spain’s sovereignty piece by piece from day one. Once the agreements were set, he used a motion of no confidence to oust Mariano Rajoy without elections and take power himself.
Since 2019, Sánchez has governed with controversial parliamentary support, winning by the narrowest of margins, always relying on the communists. His vice presidents are admirers of Lenin, Stalin, Che Guevara, Castro, and people like them. And, of course, Nicolás Maduro. That’s why Sánchez was the first idiot to criticize the removal of the mustachioed rat. (RELATED: Sánchez’s Spain Is a Caricature of Political Corruption)
He’s currently agitated, almost frenzied. He’s surrounded by a web of scandals and corruption investigations so vast it would take the entire Northern Hemisphere to map it. The party leaders he appointed to the PSOE are in jail, his brother is under investigation, and his wife faces five charges, including business corruption, influence peddling, and embezzlement of public funds. His future is bleak, which is perhaps why he decreed the legalization of more than half a million illegal immigrants. Public opinion is quite unanimous on this: few of our enemies hate Spain and Spaniards more than Pedro Sánchez himself. (RELATED: I’m a Spanish Taxpayer. This Is Why the West Doesn’t Need to Reward Illegal Immigrants.)
Lately, hungry for the spotlight, he’s been seeking a confrontation with Trump just to get international press coverage — and, incidentally, to use the uproar to keep his government’s corruption scandals off the front pages for a day. He’s extremely bothered by talk of his corruption, so don’t even think about it.
Now he’s banned the use of American bases because he didn’t want to participate in the offensive against Iran, but he’s so foolish that he hasn’t realized that this also severely hampers defensive operations against Iranian aggression, including the bombing of a base in Cyprus — which is both NATO and EU — and defensive operations involving the thousand soldiers we have deployed in the Middle East. I hope someone finds a way to make this clown pay for all of this without passing the cost on to the rest of us Spaniards.
Since he meddles in everything, his suicidal attitude has forced me to change the topic of my column. I had planned to talk about Susan Sarandon’s visit to Spain — and in particular, the maternal way she affectionately inquired about the cowardly rats of the terrorist group ETA, whom she called “political prisoners,” responsible for the murder of a thousand fellow citizens — including women and children — in more than three thousand attacks. And although this traitorous government is releasing them as part of Sánchez’s pacts to stay in power, every decent Spaniard would like to see them rot behind bars. As for Susan Sarandon, you can have her — with a big effort, we’re willing to trade her for Sydney Sweeney. You’re welcome.
Anyway, Sarandon’s nonsense will have to wait. But do you really want to know what Pedro Sánchez is like? In 2021, during a visit to Morocco amid diplomatic tensions with our neighboring country, his mobile phone was infected with Pegasus spyware, as he confirmed weeks later. He probably had nothing good on that phone. A few months later, in a historic reversal, the Spanish government officially recognized Moroccan sovereignty over Western Sahara overnight. It was the first in a long list of concessions Sánchez made to Mohammed VI. Let’s start a game: things Sánchez probably wouldn’t have on that phone — I’ll start: the Catechism of the Catholic Church. Your turn!
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