Murilo Jambeiro de Oliveira
Brazil, July 26, 2025.
Globo’s morning shows were all about Maria Beltrão, a Catholic mother, quite cultured but above all, sometimes funny in her way of seeing things. She’s my favorite TV show. But they’ve significantly reduced her time.
I was reading a little about Sancho Panza, as my boss at the Cinemateca Brasileira, which is run by the federal government, unlike TV Estatal, which is run by the state government, and about what they said about him, about having “little lead in his mind.” That’s what my first boss at the Cinemateca Brasileira nicknamed me, especially because I went to work every day wearing a T-shirt from the Mexican Anthropology Museum. I had a plan a priori, with the Cinemateca Brasileira being the country’s leading collection and TV Cultura the country’s second largest collection, in fact across all of Latin America, and with opposing policies, one had the support, while only the other had the machines to read it, and they didn’t talk to each other, bureaucratic matters.
News, entrepreneurship, and similar programs prevailed on Saturday programming, but Maria Beltrão is the Oscar host in Brazil. We always have a team there, and she’s here in the studios.
Laerte remembers Muriel’s apartment, which had, for example, a double-page Folha de S. Paulo newspaper with Don Quixote and Sancho Panza fighting satellite dishes on the wall. He was a little jealous and asked if I preferred him to me. I gave him payment for finishing the walls for a photo shoot of mine in Água Branca Park. This apartment is exactly like the one where they jump on the bed in the video for U2’s “Every Breaking Wave,” and I knew little about what was going on with those other armed people. I only remember that TV Cultura, one of my bosses—who wasn’t Eliana Lobo, but was the station’s longest-serving employee—said to me, “It’s there on the corner of the Presidency, counting how many awards we have on the station’s trophy shelf.” And I, in charge of Vladimir Herzog’s memorial service, said, “We’re running out of lead here.” Knowing that in those days the disarmament referendum was held again, it was the day of Herzong’s death, who was always worshipped on that station, and also refusing the hypothesis of suicide, I thought that this way the day would start happy.
I detest suicides, I’m not one, even if I have to quit my job at the company and wait 20 years. And in those 30 years since Vladimir Herzog’s death, I knew he wasn’t suicidal, just as I was extremely concerned about Márcio Thomaz Bastos’s initial intention to ban gun ownership failing on the same date.
@CoexistenceLaw
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