The following is a well-deserved Fisking of this article from today's La Vanguardia. (We can't find the article in today's online edition. It's in the Thursday, Nov. 7's issue of the print version.) It's by Baltasar Porcel, a big man in Catalan lit, which tells you something about the pathetic state of Catalan lit. Mr. Porcel is a native of Mallorca but lives in Barcelona, where he is much made over by the Catalanist government in power because he is a Mallorcan who believes in Catalonia Irridenta. He is the president of some government thing called something like the Mediterranean Institute, a body paid for with my tax money that does God knows what; he is a classic case of an artist who has been bought and paid for by the government, co-opted, if you will. He is also a very boring novelist who writes books that people praise and don't read. Furthermore, he writes a daily column in La Vangua. It is sometimes quite dull and sometimes frothing at the mouth; you never know what you're going to get. The following is quite frothy. Porcel's piece is in italics. Ours is in standard type.