For Fiúza, the giant is still asleep.

Brazil has started telling itself that it has changed. That nothing will ever be the same again after the street protests, that now things are going to change. That if the government and politicians in general don't understand the message from the streets, they're finished. This Brazil is a charlatan.

What exactly is the message from the streets? Let's be honest: nobody knows. Not even the streets know. Or rather: there is no message. The giant remains asleep in its splendid cradle—all that was heard was a noisy snore, mixed with incoherent words. This giant speaks in its sleep.

For some years now, the press has been loudly reporting what is happening to the giant, without it lifting a finger. And what is happening is devastatingly simple: in a decade, the country's virtuous cycle has been thrown away by the populism industry. The bus fare crisis (the trigger for the revolts) is just a fingernail of the monster: the runaway inflation caused by the squandering of public money. A rich country is a country with 40 ministries.

The stabilized economy of the 90s, and the subsequent influx of capital into emerging countries, gave Brazil its great opportunity. And it was squandered by a government that invested everything in an unprecedented electoral machine. Zero planning. Almost zero investment. Abandoned infrastructure on land, sea, and air, with the bullet train, Belo Monte, and other billion-dollar monstrosities obscuring the reality: the PAC (Growth Acceleration Program) handed over to the piracy of Delta and its associated gangs. The Cachoeira Parliamentary Commission of Inquiry even managed to lift this veil, but the giant did not awaken, and the Commission was assassinated (by the PT and its partners).

The Dilma and Lula governments broke all records for tax collection, with exorbitant taxes (among the highest in the world) that impoverish Brazilians and enrich the empire of the oppressed. Not a single groan from the streets about it. Dilma announces a "pact" with nothing inside, and even says that to pay for the filling of this empty pie she will have to raise taxes. It's a mockery. And not a single Robespierre from Candelária appears to tell the president to swallow her derision.

Meanwhile, the manipulation of public accounts is going well, thank you — with yet another accounting trick in the incestuous relationship between the BNDES (Brazilian Development Bank) and the Treasury, to forge a surplus and legalize excessive spending. It's a thorn in the side of the taxpayer, who hears nothing and sees nothing. They must be at the march, demanding civic responsibility.

On second thought, it was the popular government that best understood the message from the streets: the dogs bark and the caravan moves on. Or perhaps: the rebels move on and the gang barks.

To check if the giant was really asleep, the Workers' Party's high command called one of their own to go to his ear and call him an idiot, very loudly. And so it was done. As the first official reaction to the marches, Dilma appointed Aloizio Mercadante to tell the people that they were going to win a plebiscite. And that with this plebiscite, they, the people, were going to carry out the "political reform" (the Holy Grail of demagogues). Of course, the government knew this was a joke, a "Porta dos Fundos" style prank. So much so that they carefully prepared the ingredients.

To begin with, the careful selection of the spokesperson. In the government of the "president," surrounded by female ministers on all sides, the appearance of the Minister of Education—whose portfolio had nothing to do with anything (no political reform, no plebiscite, no transport, no budget, nothing)—would already be impactful. And it wasn't just any minister. It was the infamous Mercadante, a figure tarnished in cases like the "dossier of the crazy ones" and the "irrevocable resignation" of the PT leadership in the Senate, when the party decided to cover up Sarney's influence peddling (Mercadante revoked his own resignation in less than 24 hours).

And the spokesperson immediately announced a "popular plebiscite," practically adding that it was a decision made by the "government." In short, a scene from a Brazilian comedy show.

With all this tragic nonsense shouted in his ear, the giant remained motionless. Deep sleep. Not a single "enough," not a single "#come to the streets," not a single "what the hell is this?" After that incredible Arab Spring rehearsal (or was it Tropical Winter?), with millions in the streets across the country, revolutionary Brazil took the bait like a goldfish. And it's still intently discussing Mercadante's irrevocable popular plebiscite. No one believes it when you tell them.

The country got angry, took to the streets, tweeted, shouted, broke things, and went home without even scratching those who harmed it. The project of political privatization of the State, which corrodes society and its purchasing power, remains unscathed. The proof? Dilma's popularity fell, but who emerged in the 2014 polls winning the election in the first round, and chosen as "the most prepared to take care of the national economy"? None other than Luiz Inácio, the new Brazilian hope.

Well, Mr. Giant: sleep well! But please, snore quietly. And stop blocking the streets with your unconscious spasms.