The Swift monologue is a whipping to our indifference. No fuss, With moderation and moderation, y, above all, with a lot of common sense, We will be proposed that the best we can do to end the poor around us is ... Eat them.
NO TO ADULTS, Correos and Indigeses, Not even young people, No ... Babies do not pass from the year. Milky babies, Tiernecitos and succulent. Thus we remove them from the middle, They stop bothering and making ugly, They feed and transform us into an extraordinary and productive business. Formidable delicacy! Hay, well, that preserving parturient mothers so that such gastronomic delight is a reality in the banquets of the rich. Economy for the kingdom and delight for the ruling classes. Long live capitalism!
Swift's text, Slowly cooked, suggests a pleasant and friendly show.
Although such a gastronomic satire may end up causing a bad digestion in their consciences.
