Who would have thought that Karl Kraus, the satirical apocalyptic of Vienna, would have an unexpected and of course false descendant in Mexico? As in Against journalists and other cons, Kraus's fierce aphorism book, Edgar Krauss, the other Kraus (s), has found in the whip of brevity - name is destiny? - a way to whip the foolishness and too many airs that float in the environment, and in the middle of the Twitter era has brought them together in the old way as a challenge to immediacy and banality. Faced with the repeated question of what can be a pinch against power and even against imbecility, Krauss responds with humor and accuracy, without disbelieving the steely and oblique edge of the words. If the drug of the prophets is the future, Krauss calls (and calls us) accounts in the here and now, to puncture the globe of illusion.