In the movie, Michael Clayton, Sydney Pollack, playing the head a of highly dubious (naturally) law firm, describes the real problem with humanity:
” People are incomprehensible.”
In many ways, this is the permananet search inherent in this Pond.
Why the hell do people do some of the things they do?
Roberto Madrazo, for example.
If you are not familiar with this man, he is what Mexicans call ‘a politician’. And the organizers of the Berlin Marathon a ‘bit of an alleged fraud’.
You might think politics and fraud ought to be seen as bedfellows, but the duvet beneath which Mr. Madrazo sleeps is indeed of a brazen design.
Mr. Madrazo stood for election to the Mexican Presidency in 2006. He didn’t do so well. In fact, he had the rare distinction of having had a political party, Partido Nueva Alianza, createed solely to block his presidency.
He ended up getting just over 22% of the vote, the lowest result for his own party in its history.
Having ceased running for President, Mr. Madrazo took to running the streets of the world.
In June, he entered the San Diego Marathon, where he was timed at a very respectable 3 hours 44 minutes and 6 seconds.
And on September 30th, he entered the Berlin Marathon. And he finished in 2 hours 41 minutes and 12 seconds.
This would be the equivalent of my dating Margaret Thatcher and then three months later being seen naked in Trafalgar Square with Natalie Portman.
No one in Berlin noticed what had happened at first. They awarded Mr. Madrazo the prize for the best performer over 55. (As, I understand, several men awarded Mrs. Thatcher.)
Then someone put down their stein of Hefeweisen and asked themeselves a couple of questions.
Firstly, how was it that he managed to cover a 9-mile section of the course in just 15 minutes? When the world record for that distance is 41 minutes and 29 seconds.
And how was it that he had performed this great feat wearing long black running tights, a hat and a zip-up jacket? When it was 60 degrees outside and he was supposed to have run 26 miles.
The man was sweating less than a cow at a Hindu barbecue.
I suppose the Marathon organizers might have done a character check and discovered that Mr. Madrazo had once claimed to have been kidnapped and beaten up by unknown persons. Strangely, this savage act was perpetrated (by ghosts from the planet Papa, it seems) just as his poll numbers needed a little boost.
But please look at this footage.
Now say to yourself the following: this is a film that shows dozens of tired, sweaty men in singlets and shorts crossing the finish line. And one man in jacket and tights running like a policeman chasing a one-legged bank robber.
He is the only one raising his arms in triumph.
Yet the race director, Mark Milde, said: ” I don’t know if it was his intention or accidental.”
He has a point. Every time I cross the street, I raise my arms in the air, in expectation that I will be declared the winner of the street-crossing contest.
Did Mr. Madrazo, the Madracer, really think that no one would notice? Was he so desperate to be on Mexico’s front page again that he didn’t even consider that he might get caught? Or was this somehow his way of preparing himself for another presidential campaign for his aptly named Institutional Revolutionary Party? VOTE MADRAZO! I KNOW HOW TO GET AHEAD!
I wanted to know more about the man and I found this little film, one of his finest and most persuasive propaganda pieces.
For those who are not yet hispanolingual Mr. Madrazo seems to promise that his opponents will urinate in their trousers at the mere prospect of his becoming president.
You have to wonder about chaps like Mr. Madrazo. In their mad race for fame, power and, who knows, sex with pure bred dogs, these individuals cease to even imagine that their actions might have consequences.
And they cease to realize why at least some people in the outside world are really peeing their pants.