Opinion – Raw Cooking: Bolsonaro’s slapstick tragedy

The interview that Antônio Luiz Macedo, Jair Bolsonaro’s doctor, gave to the newspaper O Globo was quite enlightening.

The surgeon’s account reveals the backstory of the emergency operation to hospitalize the president with a whole shrimp blocking the passage of an enormous poop.

Bolsonaro, who mocks the pain of others, was scared to death – only metaphorically – when he called Macedo and asked for help.

“He called me crying in pain”, says the doctor. “He said ‘I’m dying, Macedo'”. Sorry, President, everyone dies one day. How long are you going to cry?

Unable to teach Bolsonaro to chew what he swallows, Macedo advised him to avoid foods that could clog presidential guts. Peanuts, cashews and – close attention – meat.

Can you imagine a vegetarian Bolsonaro? The same Bolsonaro who once boasted a picanha of R$ 1,799 a kilo?

That’s what we would have for 2022 if the ogre of Eldorado were a minimally sensible person. Because medical advice is obeyed – even more so when you run the risk of drowning in your own gastric juice if the exit of the stump is blocked.

In this parallel universe, Bolsonaro would go public to inform that he would no longer participate in motorcycle processions – Macedo asked Michelle to put a padlock on her husband’s motorcycle – and from now on he would adopt the prescribed diet.

A diet without barbecue, without picanha, without meat. Think about the reaction of the agro, who has already climbed on the clogs with a bank ad in praise of moderate meat consumption.

If the president of deforestation, pasture and cattle becomes an alfacista, the house will fall. Goodbye support from a horn player, a country singer, a tractor pilot, a hipster barbecue grill harleiro reacts.

Bolsonaro avoids imploding his sect’s last bastion by ignoring the doctor’s words, but I suspect that’s not what drives him.

Everything he always did went against the grain of the reasonable, the negotiated, the empathetic, the conciliatory, the logical. He has neither friends nor foes, he has circumstantial allies and enemies. He doesn’t know how to build, only to destroy.

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The craziest thing is that the destructive fury does not spare the president’s reputation and his own physical body. To show that he is not a sissy, Bolsonaro attacks himself.

He could have left it alone, taken advantage of the structure left by previous governments and played the national hero in managing the pandemic, with rational measures and vaccine spurts. No: he preferred to play the bass drum in his lunatic pen.

To maintain some pretense of continuing in politics, Bolsonaro should take care not to die. However, walking with determined steps towards the grave, he has already warned that he is going to indulge in the pastel and sugarcane juice.

If a solitary shrimp has already sent the man to the hospital, imagine the damage of a 30 centimeter pastel of Bertioga’s clover, swallowed without chewing.