Between the Stirrup and the Ground

Graham Greene used this phrase repeatedly in one of his novels, Brighton Rock, as the promise a perfectly vile character makes to himself to repent at the very last minute of his life, as in between falling off the horse and hitting the dirt.

Speaking of contrition and Catholicism, Killcastro has an interesting post today. Much has been made that Cardinal Bertone, now in Cuba, will not meet with the grave one. Well, he may not meet with him, but the word is that the church has consented to give last rites to the now repentant caudillo. Good thing it's the Cardinal, cuz that boy's gonna need an exorcism.

Perhaps the timing of Pinky Castro's purported change of heart is a tad convenient, but I would not be surprised if there were some truth to the info. Not because I know anything, but because I am blessed with a sometimes too vivid imagination. For a little while now, I have maintained that his present situation, regardless of whatever comforts surround him, is an emotional form of the death of a thousand cuts.

Lo esta pagando. He is paying for it. We may not think it, but remember what a narcissitic, vainglorious, control freak he was. He has got to be suffering mightily at how he has been reduced, even ordinary bodily functions are a humiliation. Why not in those long nights, as he prepares to meet the Almighty, would he not go over his life? And if he has, what would he find? Picture the enormity, the weight of what he has done. If he even acknowledged a part of his guilt..... He may have fooled the world; he may even have fooled himself for a time, although I doubt it, he was always a cynic. He knows.

I do not blame the Church if they provide last rites; that is what they do. "Vengeance is mine," sayeth the Lord, or something to that effect. But from a layperson's perspective, if the coma andante is truly remorseful, he could demonstrate it by taking responsibility. At this point, even he lacks the power to destroy the monster he has created. Who knows if he even resigned voluntarily? But someone as wily as he has always proven himself can find some way to leave word, to admit it like a man.

Whatever the media may say about leaving on his own terms, leaving as a doddering old man, evacuating from three orifices, you can be sure, was never on his wish list. I could almost find it in my heart to feel sorry for him, almost. My head, however, offers no absolution. I will dance metaphorically over his grave, if the old buzzard doesn't outlast me.

Hepatitis A ? That's not suprising!

Seems our ever trendy fashionistas (about 800 of them)got a taste of real life Fidelism when they picked up Hepatitis A at Stings favorite hot spot, Socialista.

A Lesson on Probabilities

If I wake up one morning and emerge from my bedroom to find the house ransacked, my silver chest (presuming I had one) empty and the back door open, my automatic reaction would be to think my house had been burglarized. Of course, it is within the realm of possibility that the neighbor's pet monkey had escaped, climbed in through my window and was at the moment probably playing spoons in the back yard. But which is more likely?

I offer this little tidbit to illustrate a point. I was reading along in Time, minding my own business, when I came across "The Raul Castro Era Begins." Ah, I thought, grist for the mill. Padgett, the author, sees the much ballyhooed interrogation of Alarcon by Havana students, particularly one Eliecer Avila, as part of some internecine warfare. In a species of Byzantine reasoning, it was a move orchestrated by Raul to weaken hardliners:

What was most surprising about the interrogation was the fact that Avila got away with it. After initial reports that the young man had been detained for his effrontery, he appeared a week later on another video denying that he was jailed and insisting that his confrontation with Alarcon was meant "to build better socialism and not to destroy it." He added: "What needs to be fixed, what needs to be changed and revised, [we want to] do it within the revolution."

All of which indicates that the youthful outburst may not have been the spontaneous Havana Spring it was widely billed as, but rather a part of something quietly sanctioned by Cuba's interim President, Raul Castro. Since being tapped by his older brother, Fidel Castro, as the country's provisional leader in the summer of 2006 after Fidel underwent major intestinal surgery, Raul, 76, has pushed a more pragmatic, even reform-minded agenda that has encouraged limited public debate — and, just as important, worked to undermine hard-line fidelistas like Alarcon. The Avila episode was yet another sign of how firmly Raul seems to have consolidated his position — and why he's most likely to succeed his brother as full President this weekend in a National Assembly vote after Fidel officially resigned from the post today. "It wouldn't surprise me if people in Raul's faction leaked those [Avila] tapes out," says Brian Latell, a Cuba expert at the University of Miami and author of After Fidel.

I understand well the temptation to look for the devious underlayment when dealing with the regime, but if the fix was in, someone forgot to tell the young man's mother, who in near hysteria contacted dissidents. Now I ask you, what is more likely that he was hauled in, threatened, and forced to recant on national television or that it was all part of an elaborate Raulian ploy? I know what I think.

Cuban Response: Nothing New Under the Stun

Word of Cuban response to the announcement of castro's resignation is starting to filter in from the island via independent journalists and communiqués from various organizations available on Misceláneas de Cuba.

In his free flowing dispatch, allusively titled "Nothing New Under the Sun," independent journalist, Oswaldo Yáñez who lately prefaces his reports by dating them "in the year of the imminent freedom of all Cubans" remarks that the hullabaloo surrounding the announcement in the world media was in marked contrast to the silence of Cubans themselves. He points out that the evictions in Holguin did not cease, the preparations for the kangaroo court to try a dissident continued, the CDR's maintained their close vigilance, and the prisoners continued languishing in castroite jails. In essence nothing changed.

The same lack of reaction is highlighted by Kallan Poe from La Agencia de Prensa Avileña in a report about response in Morón. Despite mixed reactions to the news, other than a noon time dash to the radio to hear once again the news, the only other response was in the bars at night, where the consensus was "Esto tiene que cambiar" or "This has to change."

The desire for change is a common thread running through the communications. In an editorial, La Agencia de Prensa Avileña, sees it as a moment for pondering, although it calls for a true republic like that envisioned by Marti. Dr. Darsi Ferrer condemns the succession and once more eloquently describes the conditions of ordinary Cubans. Again he calls for anti-regime elements to speak with one voice. He reiterates the need for a united opposition here. Hector Palacios' rhetoric is a bit more conciliatory, but he demands that those in power should work immediately to reform the law to include free speech, free association, and free elections, as well as liberate political prisoners

In sum, most viewed the abdication as a species of farce. Its lack of significance was a common thread running through the communications, as was a cacophony of cries for freedom and surprisingly the open call for democracy.

Reflections on a Resignation

I awoke this morning to the news that fifo had resigned. I reacted the way most Cubans, here and on the island, did, that is it didn't much matter. I can imagine the chagrin of the media types when they got to the Versailles and not much was going on. Sure, the news was on everyone's lips, and a small demonstration had materialized by afternoon, but none of the mass outpouring of crazy Cubans they had counted on. That's because Cubans know that nothing has changed. Cuba remains in chains. Even if Raul's much vaunted gonnabe reforms turn Havana into Beijing au sud, the people will remain enslaved.

Later, though, I couldn't help it. I am Cuban, given to all the passionate excesses in which we are prone to indulge. I felt elated, had a metaphorical bounce in my step. After all, he's in the can at the curb on his way to the dust heap of history. Sure, there would have been a certain satisfaction in seeing him deposed, reviled, tried for crimes against humanity. Heck, I would have settled for drawing and quartering. But the Lord ever works in mysterious ways. If he isn't dead already, resigning probably killed him, narcissist that he has always been- so much so that rather than voluntarily resigning, I can more easily picture his being resigned by those he thought were his faithful minions. In any case, stick a fork in him. He's done, rendered impotent by the one force no dictator, no potentate can defeat. I guess in the end, he couldn't equivocate with the fiend.

My momentary joy was quickly succeeded by fatigue. It has been a long, hard slog: carrying the pain of family and friends, of my people; constantly defending who and what I am; having to instruct everyone I meet because those institutions I should be able to count on to convey truth- the schools, the media- failed me and every Cuban alive and some dead; and in these last years having to witness castroite propaganda bruited as truth by those very entities. And I am one of the fortunate ones, having been born here, never having experienced hunger, misery, or the fear of that knock in the middle of the night.

Whatever the future may hold for Cuba, I find there is a certain satisfaction after all. The handwriting is on the wall for the regime. History will destroy it. As I remember my Macbeth, about another usurper, the night is long that never finds the day.

Quote of the Day

To my dearest compatriots, who have recently honored me so much by electing me a member of the Parliament where so many agreements should be adopted of utmost importance to the destiny of our Revolution, I am saying that I will neither aspire to nor accept, I repeat, I will neither aspire to nor accept the positions of President of the State Council and Commander in Chief.

Fidel Castro in his latest "Reflection" in an essentially meaningless gesture, released in the wee hours of the morning. More later.

H/T Ziva (Blog for Cuba)

Cites and Sounds

As a teacher, it was a yearly rite to have some student miscreant whine in my ear "but I changed the words" when I pointed out that his research paper was rife with plagiarized material. So it shouldn't be surprising to hear a Presidential candidate caught with his hand in someone else's word hoard say "I really don't think this is too big of a deal."

Now plagiarism is sometimes inadvertant. We read or hear something nifty and over time forget the original source and congratulate ourselves on our marvelous turn of phrase. But anyone who sees the side by side video of Deval Patrick and Barack Obama on Babalu would be hard pressed to describe it as anything other than deliberate intellectual piracy. Why describe such a small thing in such dramatic terms? Because it is dishonest. It involves taking someone else's work and presenting it as your own. Because it insults the reader or the audience. The writer or speaker is getting one over on same. Because in a presidential candidate it implies a willingness to cut corners to achieve one's aim, in this case getting to the presidency. Finally it demonstrates an intellectual shoddiness that might not be the best characteristic in a president.

I once saw an acquaintance give his dog a swift kick when he thought no one was looking. It was not a big thing. The dog was not particularly hurt. It didn't even whimper, just made itself scarce. I wasn't about to call the humane society on his owner. But that small gesture spoke volumes about the owner's character. From that day forward, I developed a distaste for this particular acquaintance.

Obama is right about one thing: words do matter, especially when they're not your own.

Literacy and the Future

Howard Gardner had an interesting article in the Washington Post on Sunday about the future of literacy. He argues against the all or nothing view. Books will survive, he posits, but we will wind up with all sorts of what he calls "literacies," including "graphic language." While I'm encouraged that he doesn't see the end of reading, I am also sure that we will never again achieve the ability and depth to appreciate what past generations took for granted. Instead, we are being ushered into a world whose language is increasingly visual and symbolic. Should be interesting.

O My Prophetic Soul!

Recently, I received an email about how Hillary could still finagle her way to the nomination using the superdelegates. I replied that I was thinking about the Florida and Michigan primaries, myself. I could hear the echoes of "every vote counts" in my ears. Well, I ran across this one in the last few days. Harold Ickes, player and advisor to the Hillary campaign, is making noises about how the issue of those two primaries should be revisited. Do we see the beginning of the end game here? Read it.

Sunday Lit

Sense. Of all of the countries of the world, it is the former Eastern bloc countries who seem to "get it" about Cuba. The Czech's and the Poles in particular have proven themselves friends, perhaps because they know what it is to live under the cleverly disguised jackboot. Here's one I missed writing about but which demonstrates the right attitude if you feel you absolutely must vacation in Cuba. "People in Need" is advocating that Czechs going to Cuba bring Spanish language newspapers, magazines, books, etc to combat the information embargo the regime has in place.

Sensibility. If you need any proof that there is an element of mass hysteria to Obama's support, look no further than Drudge, which has a Breitbart about fainting fits at the O man's rallies. Frank Sinatra, the Beatles, Obama? More on the hysteria part, later.

Pride. Actually, more like hubris. Why is it that people who don't know what they're talking, or in this case writing, about feel perfectly at home making pronouncements about US foreign policy? Yeah, Cuba, again. This opinion piece from the University of Virginia's daily, The Cavalier, is a prime example. If you don't know why the embargo was originally put in place, your entire argument is rendered fallacious, or is that fellatious? (Couldn't resist)

Prejudice. Here's the mandatory smoking article. Not content with having banned smoking in pubs, a Brit health advisory panel is recommending a "License to Smoke" for the sum of 10 pounds yearly. It's apparently going to make more people give up smoking. Uh-huh.

Persuasion. How about a quirky little tidbit about Mao Tse Tung. Apparently he proposed to offer Chinese women in trade. Kissinger, surprisingly no slouch in the women department himself, managed to keep a straight face and replied that we'd keep it under consideration. Gee, why didn't fifo think of that? Oh, yeah, he did.

Literary Interlude: Ozymandias

In keeping with the evening's theme, here is one by Shelley about Ramses the Great.

Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said--"Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert....Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings,
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away."

-Percy Bysshe Shelley

Reflexiones of La Cubana de Sarasota: Part 1

Getting older isn't half bad. The worst is probably those late 30's when they start making newspaper print smaller and you can no longer pull out those gray hairs without leaving a bald spot, speaking of bald spots.... Once you make peace with the fact that you ain't never going to look like you once did and thought you always would, there's a lot to say for growing up.

One positive is that you start thinking about things. Death, for instance, used to be something that lurked in the dim, faraway future. Now, it becomes a distinct possibility, as you remember every one you ever knew who died prematurely and calculate that at best you are midway through life. Faced with the prospect of your own mortality and armed with the experience of decades of living, you tend to become philosophical.

All of this is prelude. I've always had difficulty reconciling the notion of a loving God with one who would consign the errant to eternal damnation a la Dante. What I have seen is that we in essence punish ourselves in life. Makes sense, if "the kingdom of God" is within us, why might not its counterpart also reside within the human bosom? Time and time again, I have seen people made miserable by their own failings, their own refusal or inability to see truth, their senseless repetition of strategies that have never worked. Eternal punishment, like that of Sisyphus, in Greek mythology often consists of just this sort of repetitive, fruitless action.

I was reminded of this as I read today's installment of the reflections. The American electoral process seems to have energized the blogger in chief, perhaps because it is a living repudiation of his life's work. I admit that when I first heard of his grave condition, I was elated. I, too, wanted to dance in the streets. But I also felt cheated. He would never pay for his many crimes. Over the months, however, I have come to see him as Hitler in his bunker, shortly before the end, the ruins of Berlin, unseen, around him.

Somewhere in an undisclosed location in Havana, there sits a frail old man, whose body has betrayed him. Reduced to irrelevancy, this wouldbe colossus, he sits and writes, surrounded by utter failure. His overweening pride, doubtless, leads him into all sorts of rationalizations, but he knows. Take the latest rumination. It demonstrates that he delves into the very sources of information he denies his people. Picture him, desperately trolling for some sort of vindication. Today, he finds it in material about the mismanagement of the American economy, even citing Alan Greenspan's book. Even as he goes through this exercise, he has to know that were the American economy to implode tomorrow, it has provided a decent life for the vast majority of its people for centuries, a feat that with all his imagined economic acumen and bullshit theory he was unable to approach, let alone equal, for a space of a single year. He has, in fact, presided over the descent of Cuba into the third world.

There is something pathetic in the way he seizes upon the criticism of the US, criticism which would be illegal if the situation were reversed. Here at the end of his life, his obsession with the US has become a monomania, perhaps because he senses that, except for the Missile Crisis, he has never been anything but an irritant to the Americans who have prospered, even as he has led his people to economic and spiritual ruin. It is no surprise then that the gypsy curse is "May you live a hundred years."

Exhibit A

I was amazed," Chelsea says, "at how happy the people are, even though they are poor."

There in the words of one 16 year old American teenager is the reason for restricting travel to Cuba. I pointed it out in the post about the Brown semester abroad. It’s the “Happy Brown Native Syndrome.” The quote is from an article about a church (Methodist) trip to Cuba over the holidays, putatively one that “opens young minds,” to which I might add “to shameless propaganda.” There is nothing that peeves me as much as when adults use the innate credulity of young people to further their own causes. Note in the article that all their trips seem to have been to commie countries.

I leave you with a question I’ve asked before which is why “do-gooders” invariably fall in line with the agendas of oppressive, totalitarian dictatorships.

Mean Communication

A nicely turned post on Generacion Y on the studentgate video. Yoani starts out explaining that it was 11 years before she saw the video of the young man facing down the tanks at Tianamen Square, a historic amount of time before she saw the Berlin Wall being torn down. The video of the young people putting the precisa or making Alarcon squirm, however, has been making the rounds, clandestinely of course. Her point is that advances in communication have helped Cubans cobble together pictures of what is going on in their own country and the larger world. Her conclusion:

While the official media maintains its bucolic lethargy, we are finding out. The young man at the UCI has a face, we know his voice, we heard the stuttering of his interlocutor. This is not an enormous plaza in China with a young man who defies tanks and the image is delayed a decade in reaching us.

Amen, sister.

While I Was Away

What can you say about an editorial that starts with a reference to "freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose" and includes the following lines in reference to Cuba:

The toothpaste is oozing out of the tube.

and my favorite for obvious reasons:

The pen — and by extension, the word — is not only mightier than the sword; but is mightier than Cuba's cigar chomping swordsman.

except that it's misreading the situation. There has been no loosening. Ask the students who dared to question Alarcon.

***

Here's another deconstruction special. An article on a Javier Machado photography exhibit devotes more type to dissing US policy and lack of freedom in America than to the truth in the photographs. Try this one on for size:

Machado grew up in Cuba and left not for political reasons, but for love. His plan to marry his girlfriend and live between the two countries was foiled shortly after he got here in 2003, when the U.S. government limited the number and duration of trips Cuban-Americans may make to the island.

While the writer's agenda is clear:

This series is what Americans who dare visit Cuba see: Smiling, inviting faces secure after decades in their lots, no matter how insecure those lots are. Machado captures Cuban sincerity and lust for life's simplest pleasures.

Ah, "Happy, Brown Native Syndrome" strikes again. Machado's pictures tell a different tale. Hence the deconstruction. Read the article.

***

In the cultural diffusion department, it appears that Cuba has influenced Venezuela in more ways than one. Santeria has spread to Venezuela. Read all about it here.

Coming Home

Yes! Home at last, sitting in front of my clunky computer, the one that doesn't have thirty two adolescent passwords just to use Windows. Memo to myself: never get an Apple notebook, especially one that uses Mozilla like the one I've been reduced to while away.

So I flew home today, an exercise in frustration. It all started when I got to the two plane airport and realized I had forgotten to bring my suitcase. That shouldn't have surprised me because I had also neglected to take a coat on the trip with me. Anyway, I make it on the plane and land in Charlotte, NC, which reminds me of the email I was mentally composing to the authority...something along the lines of...

Dear Sirs, while you are obviously pleased, based on the gleeful tones of your announcements every fifteen minutes, with yourselves on your newly-minted status as a "smoke-free" airport, I'd like to point out that you forgot one incovenient fact, which is that at least a quarter of your passengers are addicted to nicotine...

Yup, there I was after four moving sidewalks, one escalator, and two buildings, standing out on the "courtesy" smoking area without the aforementioned forgotten coat, puffing away with the assorted multitude and trying to control the violent shaking. It was a 3 hour layover and now involved calculating the length of the TSA security line, the purported boarding time, and the time it would take to traverse the two buildings, one escalator, and four moving sidewalks.

This time I flunk the second security screening. With great gravity, they go through my pocket-book, and I have, oh, no, two lighters. Perhaps they feared I would engage in an act of self-immolation on board, since I obviously had nothing else to burn. There went my brand new emergency lighter. Not to fear. By the way, sweetie, I had three lighters, not to two. You missed one!

I settle into the gate an hour ahead of time when whispers of "oversold" reach my ears. When they ask everyone to check in again, I rush to the line. I'm not staying at this God-forsaken airport one minute more than I have to. Oh, no, the woman at the counter in front of me leaves, but the guy at the other line is still processing his people. They're going to get on, and I'm gonna get bumped. I dash to guy's line. As I make it to the front, the woman who has returned to her hastily abandoned post brings him scads to passes to do. I'm fighting to the death on this one. Eventually I obtain that most prized of possessions a new boarding pass, only they changed my seat and now I'm the last to board, which turns out to mean I'm in the back of the airplane.

So when we finally land an hour late, I say good-bye to the woman next to me, advising her that if I have to trample three people along the way, I'm getting out of this plane first. Unfortunately, I run into jerk a few rows down, who proceeds to take down his carry on and repack it while blocking the aisle. I guess he must have resented my breathing down his neck, because he then stood in my path and waited for the entire front half of the plane to get out of their seats, get their walkers, and finish their conversations. He obviously wasn't a smoker.

The moral of the story, other than that I should quit smoking: airports suck.

Semester Abroad or Re-Education Camp?

That's my problem with this Brown University program. I know I'm supposed to think that it's wonderful that students will be studying in Cuba, getting to know the culture, yada, yada, yada. As one of the professors indicates, the political has gotten in the way of the academic.

Alas, in Cuba everything is political. And to say that ten students going down and attending classes taught by Cuban professors is not is disingenuous at best. Those same professors can not offer an opinion, a point of analysis, or even a fact not in keeping with the official party line. Therefore, let's dispense with the free and open exchange of ideas. It is a myth. There can be no free and open anything in a society that is enslaved.

Too often, well-intentioned Americans go to Cuba on one high-minded program or another; get treated to the socialist theme park that is the face Cuba presents to the world, particularly high-minded intellectuals; accept blindly falsehoods and pretenses they would not dream of swallowing without question in this country; and return parroting regime propaganda, attempting to influence American policy, convinced that they know Cuban reality.

The only true learning the Brown students will be doing will be what they, like everyone else in Cuba, read between the lines. And that's an awful slim hope on which to pin foreign policy.

Read the article here:
http://media.www.browndailyherald.com/media/storage/paper472/news/2008/02/12/
CampusNews/U.Starts.Cuba.Abroad.Program-3203286.shtml

Too Funny

"His accusations against internationalist Cuban revolutionaries...are completely unethical..."
Fidel Castro about John McCain in one of his latest screeds.

Road Trip: It's a Dying Thing

So there I am on the 95 heading north, veering off onto the 17 up along the coast and onto even more roads whose numbers are known only to the few who live along their bounds, hour after hour, the lonely landscape of the South outside the windows. More than a few times, I want desperately to stop and take pictures. I feel I have to document the decaying tobacco barns, the sagging pediments of the early gas stations, the decay seemingly everywhere, but twenty-first century traffic barreling down behind me gives me no pause to find a way.

It is a fitting metaphor for this trip, the passing. I think to myself that this is not something I will be able to do much longer, this meandering on the road to somewhere. Dwindling supplies of oil and sky rocketing gasoline prices will ring the death knell of one of my favorite undertakings. The person sitting beside me, my faithful motoring companion over the years, is also dying, like the scenery and the gas, the question is what morning will I wake to find all gone.

There are also lots of laughs on this road and some comic moments, too, like when I stop at a Country Market Restaurant, part of a buffet chain on the downleg of the roadside popularity curve. Others have gone before. I remember the Howard Johnson's, not the hotels, the little restaurants with their orange roofs, fifties decor, and lots of yummy ice cream. And Bob's Big Boy seems to have been a flash in the pan. The past few years, I've been stopping at the buffet. As seems to be true of most restaurants at truck stops, the food has always been good, filling, and cheap, This visit is disappointing, the buffet bar seems to be shrinking before my eyes. If numbers tell the story, Steak 'n Shake is the one on the ascendancy. Not the same thing.

As I walk in, there's an early middle-aged man self-consciously having a cell phone conversation and simultaneously blocking my way. As I make my way around him, I catch the accents. Oh, no, even here there is no escape. Those are Cuban accents. Now I give him the once over. It's no wonder I was surprised. It's the get-up, and I mean get-up. Some innocuous t-shirt or other over neither pants nor shorts, but v-shaped legs ending at the knee, the bare legs tapering to glaring powder blue imitation crocs worn over ankle sweats. I begin to have my suspicions, when his young friend, identically attired comes up to him. I look at their faces burned to the color of a cooked frankfurter, and I have to wonder whose idea of sartorial splendor this is. I laugh inwardly, remembering a post from a new blog Calm Bobby in Miami which details his adventures in dressing his newly arrived cousin at Abercrombie. Read it.

And me, I'm happy. As Siddhartha learns, it all goes into the river, the good and the bad, the endlessly rushing stream whose sound is the symphony of life.

I'm using a borrowed macbook, and I give up here's the URL
http://calmbobby.blogspot.com/2008/01/abercrombie-and-cuba.html

Priceless

Code Pink came to town (Miami, that is) again yesterday. Again they were met by counterprotestors, again they took to their heels, and again they whined that their rights were being trampled. I'm not sure what the ladies had in mind, other than gathering publicity, since Posada Carriles, the "terrorist" they want sent back to face Castroite brand of justice (that's the one where they shoot first and never ask questions) has been tried twice in Venezuela for the crime of which they accuse him.

***

To my mind, this picture from Abajo Fidel says it all. The young man waves the legs he lost in his dogged and relentless quest for freedom from a terrorist state in a visual denunciation of the pink spandex performance art. Now that's a protest, or as my mother would say, "una galleta sin mano."

Some Sunday Goodies

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes. Remember a few years ago when a group of states won incredible amounts of money in a lawsuit against the cigarette manufacturers. The premise of the whole thing was that smoker's cost their health systems more. Turns out that in this Dutch study smokers and the obese (they're next) actually cost less. Unfortunately, smokers die young and don't hang around long enough to get Alzheimers and the like.

I'm Too Sexy for my Town. 19 year old Christopher Holder was arrested in Florida for disorderly conduct after a mother complained that he was singing profanities in front of her two young children. Seems he was singing the words to a song by Lil' Boosie. Before you think intolerance, read it and see if you want your 5 year old hearing this on a public street. Think he'll beat the rap?

I Heard it Through the Grapevine. That's what parts of the world may be reduced to for communications. Four undersea internet and phone cables have been cut in one week in the Mediterranean, raising the specter of possible sabotage. Explanations have ranged from a rogue freighter to a wayward anchor. So far the Middle East has been hardest hit. Read it here.

Black Water. Spurned by the courts and spurred on by the declining levels of their reservoirs, Georgia legislators have just remembered that the surveyor who marked their state boundary in 1818 made a boo boo and stopped short of the Tennessee River, an error they'd like remedied like now. The response from the governor of Tennessee, something to the effect of "Good joke, fellas." Read all about it.

Notes: I apologize for missing the weekly poem, but a few things didn't come to fruition. Be back next week. Speaking of next week, I'll be on the road. I'll try to post.

Reality Check

If you would like to know why Cuban Americans often come across as too strident, too passionate and sometimes crazed, it is because of articles like this:

Cuba is showing "unprecedented positive engagement" with the United Nations in the field of human rights, the UN's High Commissioner for Human Rights Louise Arbour said Friday.

in contrast to the reality of these headlines for the past 3 days smuggled out by independent journalists in Cuba:

Opposition Members in Holguin Beaten

Opposition Youth Threatened with Jail

Human Rights Activists Arrested and Processed for Dangerousness

President of FLAMUR [The Association of Rural Women] Arrested and Threatened

Political Police Organize an Act of Repudiation

Opposition Members House Pelted with Eggs

Independent Librarian Intimidated

I only wish that someday Ms Arbour live in a country making just as much "progress" as she ascribes to Cuba.

Deconstruction

Every time I hear of a “Cuban art exhibit” somewhere, I cringe because almost invariably it brings out the misguided, the impervious, and the apologists. Jim Lowe of the Barre Montpelier Argus Times probably falls in one of these categories. In this article about “¡Cuba!: Art and History from 1868 to Today” at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts, it’s apparent that he may or may not know his art, but he certainly doesn’t know his history.

For a writer, he certainly plays fast and loose with his words. Did you know that Cuba is “anathema” to the United States? As far as I know the Cuban government is a sworn enemy of the United States but has never risen to the level of anathema. However, its obliteration of individual freedoms and the oppression of its people might be anathema to all that Americans hold dear. And then there’s the question of subjugation. According to Lowe, Cuba went from fighting for its independence from Spain to “subjugation” by the US. Again the wording is questionable. You might maintain that the United States interfered in Cuban affairs and wielded undue influence, and was a tad colonialist. But as far as I know the United States never enslaved Cuba. Subjugation is what the people have been living under for the past half century.

But why quibble? The exhibit is divided into five time periods. He discusses all five. Do read it and see what he has to say about the “violence” and “squalor.” More importantly try this:

“Cubanness: Affirming a Cuban Style 1938-1959” is the most artistically exciting period represented in the exhibit. Here are myriad styles, expertly executed – all with unique Cuban flavor.

Contrast that with

The title “Within the Revolution Everything; Against the Revolution, Nothing 1959-1979” is taken from the words of President Fidel Castro, describing his feelings on the legal limitations of art. This segment of the exhibit is more interesting historically than artistically. Excellent photojournalism illustrates the beginning of the Castro years.

and

The Revolution is represented by a large poster collection, with many of them familiar to Americans. Again, they seem more of historic than artistic interest.

Need I say more?

Quote for Today

"I stand against any library or any librarian anywhere in the world being imprisoned or punished in any way for the books they circulate," Bradbury said. "I plead with Castro and his government to immediately take their hands off the independent librarians and release all those librarians in prison, and to send them back into Cuban culture to inform the people."
Ray Bradbury in 2005

More Smoke Than Mirrors

The apologists for the dictatorship like to point to Cuba's claims of free universal health care and near total literacy. Well, after Sicko, the truth about the Cuban health care system got some attention. But we never much hear about the Cuban educational system. I mean, besides the daily recitation by school children of "I will be like Che" and the free medical school education the regime provides to American students who live like potentates compared to the average Cuban, we never hear much.

So tonight, I'm minding my own business, surfing along, when I come across this article by independent journalist Jaime Leygonier about a teacher in Havana who killed a student. 12 year old Daniel Castañeda Alayo was killed by his teacher, Rolando, age 17, who broke a chair over his head. Stop. What was that? Age 17? Well, it wouldn't be the first time I came across a typo. So I read the article. Yup, the "teacher" was 17 years old. Apparently, to make up for teacher shortages, the government has improvised with "emerging teachers," read that adolescents.

Apparently the schools are fraught with major disciplinary problems and violence. Read about it in Spanish here. As a former teacher, I've taught seventeen year old boys. In my experience, they were not notable for their patience, their wisdom, or more importantly their common sense. It is an action of a desperate regime to place them in front of a classroom. Kinda reminds you of Hitler in the last days of WWII.

Side note for those who don't read Spanish: The article ends on a note of dark humor. Seems that on February 1, the British Ambassador gave the Cuban authorities an award for their care of the young ones. As the article's author points out, Daniel could not read about the event in the newspaper so that he could later recite it during one of the numerous political exercises at school While the ambassador and the thugs were exchanging chit chat, Daniel was dying because his teacher broke a chair over his head.

Until We Meet Again

Two observations on Mitt Romney's speech today. First, why the hell didn't he speak like that during his campaign? Recently, reading some of his positions, I've started to realize that I had misjudged Mr. Romney. It was hard not to. In any case, his basic decency was lost on an angry electorate in an angry country, a country which has less cause for anger than any other nation in the history of the world. The poorest among us live better than the bulk of humanity. At any other time in any other circumstances, Mitt could have had my vote. But not this climate, not this election.

My second observation goes to the pride I feel as a Republican. He could have continued; he might even have pulled it out. There was that possibility, especially with the uber right lining up behind him. But he didn't. In a small gesture of respect, I'll let him tell you why:

I disagree with Senator McCain on a number of issues, as you know. But I agree with him on doing whatever it takes to be successful in Iraq, on finding and executing Osama bin Laden, and on eliminating Al Qaeda and terror. If I fight on in my campaign, all the way to the convention, I would forestall the launch of a national campaign and make it more likely that Senator Clinton or Obama would win. And in this time of war, I simply cannot let my campaign, be a part of aiding a surrender to terror.

This is not an easy decision for me. I hate to lose. My family, my friends and our supporters... many of you right here in this room... have given a great deal to get me where I have a shot at becoming President. If this were only about me, I would go on. But I entered this race because I love America, and because I love America, I feel I must now stand aside, for our party and for our country.

I will continue to stand for conservative principles; I will fight alongside you for all the things we believe in. And one of those things is that we cannot allow the next President of the United States to retreat in the face evil extremism!!

It is the common task of each generation-and the burden of liberty-to preserve this country, expand its freedoms and renew its spirit so that its noble past is prologue to its glorious future.To this task... accepting this burden... we are all dedicated, and I firmly believe, by the providence of the Almighty, that we will succeed beyond our fondest hope. America must remain, as it has always been, the hope of the earth.

Thank you, and God bless America.

Can you picture any Democrat doing that? Oh yeah, Al Gore after he nearly rent the fabric of our country and pursued his options all the way to the Supreme Court demanding that every vote- the same votes the party now refuses to honor- be counted, as if they hadn't already been counted twice, made a similar speech. By contrast, when the dead in Chicago and Texas voted for JFK, that bogeyman, Richard Nixon, Republican, spared the country the strain.

"Adventurer" Dies

In today's Miami Herald, the news that Gerald Patrick Hemming has died. Who was Gerald Patrick Hemming? Good question, and one that maybe no one can answer. He claimed to have fought alongside the castro rebels; made all sorts of accusations against the CIA; hinted dark conspiracies in the death of JFK. MLK; instructed a group of Cuban exile paratroopers, the International Penetration Force; and was himself at least once accused of being a Castro spy.

Perhaps that's why the Herald chose the angle of "Adventurer's life offers look at a bygone Miami" for its report. Read it here.

Wetfoot/Dryfoot: The Interface of Politics, Morality, and Fantasy

NPR enters the lists with a report about increased human smuggling from Cuba. As usual, the bad guys are not the mafiosi in Havana or the misbegotten Wet Foot/Dry Foot policy, but Cuban exiles and families in Miami. Blame the victim. Since they didn't see fit to tackle a major part of the problem, thought I take a stab at it.

Any policy that results in members of the United States military firing on unarmed civilians and/or repatriating others to almost certain imprisonment has to be a bad policy and, I would argue, an immoral one. Christ once said of false prophets that by their fruit shall we know them. Well if the same can be said of a false policy, the fruit of this tree is rotten. Fleeing Cubans have been known to douse themselves with gasoline, hold knives to their throats, and even impotently attack members of the Coast Guard to avoid being sent back. Whatever might have made them take to the Gulf in the first place, the moment they left, they became political refugees. That is to say, once repatriated they will face all sorts of repercussions for the audacity of wanting to leave. Yet here is an institutionally enforced policy that does just that, send 'em back, in direct contravention to US law, I might add.

At the same time, what is the United States to do? As a fellow blogger wrote, the economy of the United States could handle the entire population of Cuba if it showed up on our doorstep, that number being very close to the estimate of illegal immigrants in the US. But imagine in the current xenophobic climate, the uproar at thousands of Spanish-speaking and racially diverse people on our shores. Mariel X’s God-knows-how-many.

Much as we may dismiss these political considerations, they are real, as are the interests of the United States. Over the decades, the US has served as a pressure release valve for the Cuban regime. One has to wonder what would have happened if this country had never allowed a single Cuban exile to alight on its soil, wet or dry foot. Since that is a moot point, let’s carry on with the pressure cooker theorem which holds that if unhappy Cubans are forced to stay in Cuba, the whole pot will explode. I’m sure there are valid reasons why this is not necessarily so, but there is one which takes precedence over all, that is we are dealing with human beings here, not peas. Would you place a human being in an oversized pressure cooker? Of course not.

This is the problem that dogs Cuba policy. How to separate the Cuban people from the State, given that the State has falsely assumed the rights and prerogatives of the same? How do you help the people while holding the line against a sworn enemy of the Republic? A while back, I came across one suggestion on another blog that made my cynical heart go pitter patter. I took the suggestion and ran all the way to Disney.

The suggestion was simply to send those who fall in American hands to Guantanamo. That’s been done before, you say. Yeah, but this idea goes far beyond tent cities. Why not establish not a camp but a town? Make it a model hamlet. Heck, pretty soon that detention camp is going to be closed. Call in the imagineers to create Calle Central, Cuba, down to the wrought iron balconies. Let those who don’t make it to the United States at least know that they will be sent to somewhere where they can earn their keep, have a say in their town government, and go to bed with three squares. Sure, the US government will have to subsidize it, but there’s plenty of money to be had in other anti-regime programs. What better pressure is there than to demonstrate what a free and capitalist Cuba could be?

Come to think of it, alone among all the candidates, John McCain has called Wet Foot/Dry Foot a flawed policy. He doesn't know how to fix it he tells us. Hmm. Maybe I'll email him.

(Although I have CRS, I think I first came across the idea at Killcastro. If not, I apologize to wherever I came across it.)

The Butcher and the Icon

Not two people, just one. Finally had the chance to read Humberto Fontova's most excellent Exposing the Real Che Guevara: And the Useful Idiots Who Idolize Him, the first few pages of which reduced me to tears. In these, he tells the story of his family's flight from Cuba, how his father was forcibly taken away from the airport to an unknown fate. The petty tyranny of the officials, the family's fright, the harsh conditions of their new lives are echoes of many, many more, a million more stories. I was overwhelmed.

So powerful was the experience that it took me days to return to reading. But return I did. For me, it was not about discovering Che's evil. I knew what he was, although I understand why David Horowitz wrote "Every American should read this book." It's obvious that millions don't know why he was called the "Butcher of the Cabaña," or even that he earned that epithet. Fontova skillfully juxtaposes Che's murders and machinations with the celebrity and praise he garnered as a selfless champion of the downtrodden. It is particularly ironic to see Che being feted at a chi-chi party in NYC even as he is plotting to blow up portions of the city.

The book is chock a block full of facts and statistics about preCastro Cuba, as well as the crimes of Che Guevara, which were legion. I'd go further than Horowitz and suggest it might be fruitful for college history departments to use it in a case study on methods. Because what emerges most here is the disconnect between the authoritative biographies and what we Cubans know as reality. Fontova serves up the facts with a good dollop of incisive humor, as he demonstrates the fallacy of their methodology, relying on the regime for access to documents, the equivalent, as he points out, of writing a biography of Hitler using materials provided by his co-conspirators. This myopia is particularly highlighted in their praise of Che's guerilla skills, an almost laughable assertion, if anything about a mass murderer can be said to be comic.

The single biggest impression I took away from the book was the absolute carnage which took place in Cuba. I remember as a child seeing pictures of firing squads, and I learned the word paredon early on, but I confess I did not know the extent. Fontova lends immediacy to events. In addition to the numbers, he puts names and faces on the victims, recounts telling stories of the regime's treatment of the families. Pubescent boys, pregnant women, and countless men are taken to the wall where Che can observe the executions from his window with a view. A miliciano asks whether a woman is the wife of so and so and, hearing the affirmative, dumps a body at her feet, saying "There's your husband." And these are just some of the incidents he recounts.

I think that it was Churchill who said "history is written by the victors." Well, in this book Fontova argues for the truth and makes it that much harder for the elite establishment to ignore the reality of Che. Read it.

Invasion 2008

The 1957 or so "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" has spawned whole generations of imitators, among them my favorite series, cancelled, wail, wail, rent clothing. I never, however, expected to see it happening among the ranks of my favorite bloggers. At least two people, whom I respect, have recently heaped encomiums on Obama. I have two choices here: I can assume they've become pod people, Obamasans, or I can think about their words. Okay, so I try to be rational...

won't work.

I am a child of the sixties, whether I like it or not, that means I am a late boomer by birth and a cynic by avocation. I cannot help but look behind the sweetness and light of this Kennedyesque phenomenon and ask where's the rub. First, I think to myself, look what happened with Kennedy, who to my mind is the person most responsible for the combined misery of the Cuban people for the past five decades, after fifo, of course. But that's not fair. Obama is Obama. At this point, he doesn't even have much of a record I can judge. Given the record of some, that's not a bad thing. Although there is that clip showing him decrying the embargo. He is now for it. I can find it in myself to be charitable and figure now that he's running for president, he's learned more about the situation; I can put aside the suspicion that he's pandering for Cuban American votes.

Okay, debate performances.....that's where he lost me. There was an incredible naiveté in his response that he would sit down with some of the worst oppressors in the world, as if they were going to see the light, and we would all end up singing kumbaya. Okay, okay, maybe I half think it wouldn't hurt to make nice noises as long as we hold fast to our principles. And what does he want to do about Iraq? We say "Oops! shouldn'ta done that. We invaded your country, caused huge bloodshed, promised to establish democracy, lost countless beautiful American lives, and now we're going home because we can better use the money to fund healthcare for the children of people who make $81,000 dollars a year. Besides, when we leave the terrorists will be so grateful to us for leaving that they won't turn their attention to killing us in the homeland. So Sayonara, better luck next time. Iran, hope you appreciate our leaving the spoils for you."

I can reach out to my brethren, this much, Obama in a Reaganesque way reaches out, transcends the nitty gritty of policy differences. In short, he has the personality and charisma of a leader But is this really a time and place when we want to take a chance? On the job training doesn't seem to work too well in the White House. I may be wrong; I've been known to be before. I hope I am. I just can't get past the feeling that in Obama you're buying a pig in a poke. And I'd kinda like to know what's in there.

Assimilation and the Super Bowl

As a child, there were many things that made me feel different from my neighbors and friends. We didn't really celebrate Thanksgiving. No turkey at my house. We celebrated Christmas Eve; everyone else celebrated Christmas Day. St. Patricks Day was irrelevant in my home, marked only by the foul smell of boiling cabbage in the apartment building hallways. How I wanted to be Irish on that day, so I could wear a "Kiss me, I'm Irish" button.

As I grew up, we became more Americanized. We went to turkey with rice and beans and then to the more traditional menu. And I was thrilled about ten years ago to be invited to a St. Patty's Day party. It was pretty disappointing. Funny thing was that in the interim I had grown up and the impetus to be like everyone else was no longer there.

All of this is prelude to my adventures yesterday. My father, like any good Cuban, was a baseball fanatic. For a long time, I was an only child. So, dressed in my stadium wear of tan Wranglers and a striped pullover, I would dutifully tag along with him to games. I loved the sun bearing down on us, the noise, the guys yelling "Throw the bum out!" or "Beah Heah! Get your beah heah!" And then the foam tops of the cups splashing over when they came to give my Dad his. Each type of vendor had his own little song. And we ate one from each. Then even more exciting, I got to watch Roger Maris and Mickey Mantle, Yogi Berra and Whitey Ford.

What we never ever did was go to a football game. As he became more successful, companies would give him free tickets to the Giants. We'd have to scramble to give them away. Later I married a European who didn't follow American sports. When my daughter went to BC and became a raving Eagles fan, it was an Alex Keaton moment at my household. Aside from the Olympics and the World Cup, we don't watch it. It's a great source of embarassment when I play Trivial Pursuit, I assure you.

But every year during Super Bowl Week, I secretly envied all those parties. So I was tickled to get a phone call out of the blue inviting me to a one. The conversation went like this.

"Well, I replied, we don't really do football."

"Ah come on, we'll have a talking room,too. My wife only likes the commercials."

These are people whose company I enjoy, so I thought what the heck. My only concern was that I didn't want to sit through a whole football game, which to me has all the interest of a physics lecture. The upshot of all this was that I attended my first Super Bowl Party, watched my first full football game, and got quite an education. Half the fun of these things, I discovered, is watching the reaction of the other party goers. The game, I admit, wasn't half bad. Think I'll do it again, next year.

You Go, Boy!

Good article about the disenssion in the Republican Party at the moment by Fred Barnes. Best quote apropos of what's going on:

Bringing conservatives on board won't be easy for McCain. (Nor would uniting Republicans of all stripes be easy for Mitt Romney, should he upset the McCain bandwagon and win the nomination.) Republicans are in a sour mood, especially the talk-radio mafia that regards McCain as anything but a reliable conservative. (They harbor qualms about Romney, too.)

An Endorsement of Sorts

I ran into an article by Walid Phares. I make it a point to listen to him because he's one of those "experts" on terrorism. Interestingly enough, however, this article was essentially an endorsement. The beginning is a little hard to follow, but I'll grossly oversimplify the whole thing by saying that the Dems have the wrong idea. His view of what awaits us in terms of the expansion and intensification of terrorism is chilling, and he finds their positions short-sighted. The Republicans at least recognize the problem must be addressed.

His endorsement:

Hence, as is, I have recommended Governor Romney for the Republican Primaries as first among equals while considering Senator McCain as a genuine leader. If Romney is selected I believe America may have a chance to try new strategies. If his contender is selected, we will have four or eight more years of the past seven years. On the other side, I have suggested to counter-Terrorism experts to help Democratic candidates restructure their agendas on national security in line with the reality of the enemy: For I would like to see both Parties presenting a united vision of the threat while differing on how to confront it. That would be the ideal situation America can be in and a response to the deepest will of the American public.

Literary Interlude: Ulysees by Tennyson

I know, I know, another classic. It's just that I like them so much, and I don't have to worry about offending anyone. Besides, I love the collision between the spirit and the aging body in this one.

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honoured of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers;
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breath were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this grey spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle —
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me —
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads — you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Super Sunday Morning

Halftime...How about one in keeping with this week's poem? From Reuters, a study that finds middle age is really depressing. Prime time for the midlife doldrums: the forties. Good news is that it gets better. Read it and weep.

Post Game Analysis...We are indebted to the Russians for this analysis of the State of the Union Address. They noted a more realistic and less grandiose tone to the Prez's remarks. Wonder if we'll get a similar entry describing the increasingly militant tone of Putin's commentary?

Field Goal...A fun take on "open-minded" liberals from Larry Elder with the ring of truth. Bet you didn't know Bush orchestrated 9/11 to get black people. Real barber shop analysis here.

The Huddle...Ever wanted to be a fly on the wall at the Clinton household? Confess. Monica Crowley takes us there in her imagined phone conversations between the Clintons. Hilarious.
Maybe, it's a woman thing.

Foul...I always like to enlighten as well as entertain, so I leave you with this article listing the worst things to say at work. They forgot the old stalwart, "ees not my yob, man." I've heard that one many a time.

Disclaimer: despite having studied it in gym class at my all girls high school, I speak football as a second language. I hope I got the terminology right.

A Culinary Cautionary Tale

Last night I was reminded that there is such a thing as being too American. Growing up, it seemed that everything I ate was coated in some variety of fat. Even when my mother made a Prime Rib, the only thing you could taste was the manteca which surrounded it. I didn't know it at the time, since we never went to restaurants although my father had worked at the Brass Rail, but it bore little resemblance to what is served under that name.

To make a long story short, last night I made a beef roast, using a rack to keep it out of the accumulated run off. I'd been meaning to try it for a long time. So everything is done. I'm sitting in front of the movie we're watching- some kill, kill thing- dish on lap with roast beef and gravy, a baked potato, and a cherry tomato or two for garnish, when I taste the thing. My God, it's my favorite cut, but it tastes like old cow! I ask my husband and a pal of ours who was over, "Is there something wrong with this meat?"
"Nope," they reply.
For a moment or two, I wonder if I'm gonna get food poisoning. Oh well, the dog was eating it. Try as I might, I couldn't find a hint of the usual beef flavor. Then it came to me: normally, the roast stews in its accumulated juices, read fat. "Cause, face it, the fat is where the flavor is.

And the roasting rack, it's stowed in the back of a cabinet. I might be able to use it for a cooling rack.

Cause du Jour for the Lobotomized

So now it's the Cuban Five, huh? Some celebrity types have lent their names to a billboard campaign agitating for the freedom of the Cuban Five, those fine upstanding citizens who were spying for Cuba and were caught, tried, and convicted in a court of law. How's that for audacity? Maybe I meant stupidity.

It does unleash the imagination, though. How about free the Cuban Seventy Five, unjustly held in Cuban prisons, or even Free the Cuban Eleven Million, unjustly held in Cuba prison?

H/T Henry at Babalublog

Let's Talk Legitimacy

In the post-Bush era, the bottom line is blunt and simple, Dunleavy [a political scientist at the London School of Economics] said. "People all around the world are pretty worried," he said. "They want a president who will restore a kind of U.S. legitimacy in the world."

This from an article on how the world is "captivated" by the Presidential race in the US. Forgive me for taking offense, but just who is going to be the first to presume to judge the legitimacy of the United States. What has the US actually done? Attacked a country that harbored the terrorists who killed thousands in America and wouldn't turn them over? Removed a bloodthirsty dictator and gave the people a shot at ruling themselves? Negotiated with the North Koreans? Refused to commit economic suicide by signing the Kyoto Protocol which exempted China and India from the rules and regulations binding on developed nations?

Perhaps if the United States had illegally traded with Saddam despite the sanctions, pretending not to notice his manifold human rights abuses; sold nuclear fuel to the Iranians, accepting that an oil rich nation with a history of fomenting terrorism is going to use it for peaceful purposes; or taken advantage of an enslaved people by turning their country into a Disneyland of debauchery, then perhaps we might have maintained legitimacy in the eyes of the world.

It would be easy to dismiss their elitism and presumption, but it has consequences. When I read that the Sunnis describe their shift in allegiance as the "Anbar Awakening," I have to wonder how much of our bad press they heard and believed. Self-interest might govern our actions, but we have a heck of a lot more legitimacy than our so respectable detractors.

How Big is Your Tent?

A few years ago, Christie Whitman wrote a book, the title of which was It's My Party, Too: The Battle for the Heart of the GOP and the Future of America. It seems timely in light of the reaction to McCain's Florida win. The verbiage unleashed in his direction, not from Democrats but from his own party, is a bit stunning. Reaction has ranged from the morose to the mordant, culminating in Ann Coulter's petulant declarations that she'd rather support Hillary.

Come on, Ann. Two words-universal healthcare- demonstrate the falseness of that position. If that doesn't work for you, try- tax hike. McCain, whatever his original vote, has signed on to extend the Bush tax cuts. Now I love Ann's fiery rhetoric, although at times her anti-immigration rants border on the bigoted, but she calls them as she sees them. Her candor and willingness to take on unpopular causes fills a need in our namby-pamby, politically correct society. But here, I think she's wrong.

All of those trash talking Mr. McCain really need to think about a fallacious underlying assumption in all of their criticism. The Republican Party is not the Conservative Party. At times their interests and their candidates conincide, but not always. Before Reagan, who not only advocated amnesty for illegals but granted it, there were Republicans with a full spectrum of view points. Remember Nelson Rockefeller, Jacob Javits?

As far as I can remember the less conservative wing of the party did not have public fits of apoplexy over Reagan's emergence. It was accepted with apparent good grace. Time proved that stance correct, but it took a willing suspension of disbelief to support him the first time.

Instead of conservative litmus tests, try asking about McCain's unpredicatbility. Ask whether you would trust him with this finger on the button? Now that gives me reservations. You can raise the issue of age also. It does have real potential consequences. But when you consider the alternatives, the choice is clear. I like Romney, but can he really stand up to the Billary machine or the Obama magic?

My view is simple. Forget about not washing our dirty laundry in public; we shouldn't eat our own, or we'll have our heads handed to us for breakfast.

Reads: Sweetheart Deal by Claire Matturro

A while back I found myself at loose ends between books and in the New Books section at the library. We stop for the obligatory plug for the Sarasota Library System. Anyway, I spotted a book titled Bone Valley. Reading the inside flap, I realized it was set in Sarasota, so I had to check it out. I remember liking it, so this week I picked up Sweetheart Deal by the same author.

Although this one starts out in Sarasota, most of it takes place in Bugfest, GA. I leave it to the reader to imagine the locale. There, it takes on the overtones of the daughter of the Deep South whodunits, complete with oddball relatives and ne'er do well, slightly felonious neighbors, like those of the Carolyn Haines "Southern Belle" mysteries. (If you haven't read these and like mysteries, do yourself a favor and pick up a copy. They're well-written and fun.)

The plot is nicely constructed and unravels slowly. Her character, Lilly, the sophisticated Florida lawyer saves the day despite being assaulted by murderers, mosquitos, and Southern cooking. My only complaint about the book concerns her fixation with healthy food. By the end of the book, her culinary travails have become amusing. But there's something forced about their introduction in the beginning.

Overall, I enjoyed it, especially when Lilly ponders the following:

Well, that was an old story, those who wanted to hold on to what was versus those who wanted something new. Everybody in the country could talk it to death if they wanted to, but I'd seen what had happened in Sarasota, and knew in the end there wasn't any stopping of the development.

Amen.

Why McCain?

McCain won the Florida Primary with the help of defecting Cuban American Giuliani supporters. The question is why these voters broke for McCain and not Romney. Or perhaps a better question would be why they supported Rudy in the first place.

On Tues, the Weekly Standard suggested that the initial support for Rudy came from his tenure as “America’s Mayor” and his harsh stance against castro when the latter was in NYC. Can you hear it now: “el tipo no tiene pelo en la lengua,” uttered in admiring accents? Faced with his probable loss, huge numbers of primary voters then switched their allegiance to McCain. So why McCain and not Romney or Huckabee or even Paul?

The standard credits McCain’s military experience. I have my own theory, which is it was “the hair,” not McCain’s bald pate or Romney’s luxuriant, seemingly numerically arranged mane, but rather the metaphorical hair on McCain’s chest. McCain, whether you support him or not, most definitely does not have hair on his tongue and comes across as an hombre de pelo en pecho.
When he says he will follow Osama to the gates of Hell, he thrills Cuban hearts. When he imagines a meeting with the Cuban torturers who instructed his own North Vietnamese captors and hints, ever so dryly, that he would take matters into his own hands, it is a sentiment, that thirst for justice, or even revenge, they share.

So, it’s not surprising to me that the majority of Cuban American voters went for McCain, conservative or not. Faced with two viable candidates, neither of who had impeccable conservative credentials, I am sure that many made a reasoned choice; but I suspect that for a substantial number, the choice came down to one sentence-“el tipo tiene cojones.” All of which begs the question, how much have we really learned…

Disclaimer: The preceding does not constitute an endorsement or condemnation of any kind.

Cross posted at Babalublog.

Cuban "Results"

Raul Castro- 99.4%
Fidel Castro-98% (approx)

giggle, giggle, snort, snicker, snicker, snigger, chortle, guffaw, cackle, snort!

Everyone Celebrates in his Own Way

From el Coma Andante:

January 28, 2008
A Tribute to Martí
FIVE years ago, Cuba’s capital hosted the International Conference "For World Equilibrium", which was attended by delegates from 43 countries of all continents, to honor Martí on the occasion of his 150th birthday.

I talked to them all on the evening of January 29 of that year 2003. By a mere chance – or rather, by more than a single chance – that moment of 1953 repeated itself, although under significantly different circumstances. Back in 1953 we had to honor Martí’s memory by liberating our homeland from the imperialist yoke. This time it was necessary to wage our struggle in the field of ideas to counter the threats against humanity openly implied in the words of the U.S. president in his speech at the West Point Academy. What I said on that day, which is consistent with my deepest convictions, has become a starting point for most of the reflections I wrote during the stage of convalescence I was obliged to go through. It is my modest tribute to the maestro. I likewise salute the hundreds of intellectuals, men and women of thought, who once again gather with the same purpose of paying tribute to José Martí on the occasion of his155th birthday. I could not find any better words to honor him! I would request our press to publish it, if possible, in the inner pages, to avoid taking space from other important news about this commemoration.
Fidel Castro Ruz

To el coma andante:

On this birthday anniversary of one of the greatest Cubans, Jose Marti, I enjoyed a Montecristo No2 (alleged to be one of the greatest Cuban smokes), and I reflected on the past forty years. Sitting here with my Cambio bracelet on (which I will never remove), I’m feeling philosophical. I ask, would Marti be proud of what has become of Cuba today? The answer is obvious, I think. So while we honor Marti, we owe a debt of gratitude to you.

Thank you, Fidel, for showing us how to single handedly unravel an economy, an achievement many Democrats seem ready to emulate in an election year. Thank you, Fidel, for showing us how to establish a system of apartheid ninety miles away from one of the greatest bastions of freedom. Thank you for showing us how to live on rations rather that cooking entire pigs and washing them down with a few bottles of Bacardi.

Thank you for showing the world how resolute and entrepreneurial the Cuban people are. Adversaries can call the Miami Cubans the mafia, but the truth is that there are unbelievable numbers of Cuban businessmen and women, artists and politicians who have brought that city to an incredible height, beyond our wildest dreams. Thank you for showing me that my father and other Cubans came here with no money and were able to create businesses worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, if not millions or billions. Thank you…thank you…thank you.

Thank you for showing me that Cuban Americans are a minority in the United States, but not entitled to the freebees which other minorities get. For example, when I applied to medical school, I found out the some Latinos received special consideration, not Cubans, though, because they are not underrepresented in medical school

Thank you for Cuban politicians that you have put in your government such as Lage and Alarcon, without them, we would not know the fine art of brownnosing and how to scramble when the golden goose is frying. Thank you for not even giving your beloved people the decency to decide their political fate when you are on your death bed.

Thank you, Fidel, for making me the Republican, Capitalist Pig that I am. I am grateful, my family is grateful. And I look forward to the day that I may drink a rum ‘n coke in Habana and scream Cuba Libre! Viva Marti! Fuck you, Fidel!

Primary Day

Although I was efficient and did my voting early, someone else in the family did not. So it was that I found myself sitting in a chair thoughtfully provided by the election people at my polling station and observing. As I sat there, I was filled with pride. While I watched the mother with her baby, the middle-aged gentleman obviously come from work, the older women in warm-up suits, the poll workers, it occurred to me that this was the greatness of America. Each entered the room, calmly signed in and then voted for the candidate he or she thought would lead the nation. If such a thing were possible, there was a feeling of doing one's civic duty in the air. Such a simple thing, really. Yet how many countries in how many parts of the world seem to be unable to accomplish such a routine.

Yeah, I know, the tax question on the ballot probably provided a bit of an incentive to be a good citizen, but it was a beautiful moment, nonetheless.

Petty, Mean-Spirited, Disgusting, Presumptuous and Elitist

A liberal advocacy group plans to spend $8.5 million in a drive to ensure that President Bush's public approval doesn't improve as his days in the White House come to an end....

..."Framing his legacy helps us in the '08 elections, there is no doubt about that," Woodhouse said. "But our principal mission would be defining the failures of Bush and the ideology he represents."

Article here.

MSM: Some Change, More of the Same

It has become noticeable that there is a certain sea change in the coverage of Cuba by the mainstream news services. It is but a slight shift, but it is there. The new pattern to reports seems to be to begin with Cuban government pronouncements and fictions. In the past that would be end of story. Lately, the middle of the piece will turn to a noted dissident or anti government activist, the spokesman for one of the alphabet soup of organizations dedicated to change. So it is with this story.

A while back, I posted on the regime's revival of a program to bring some sweetness and light into Cuba's prisons, not humane treatment, but song and dance and architecture. Yesterday, the AP reported on singer Silvio Rodriguez's part in this program. In what has to be considered a sign of progress, the article cites an opposing point of view:

Human rights activist Elizardo Sanchez criticized the program as propaganda designed to whitewash the image of Cuban lockups abroad. Sanchez's Cuban Commission for Human Rights and National Reconciliation regularly describes the island's prison conditions as "subhuman."

Still, the AP missed a major part of the story. They neglected to mention that political prisoners who have refused to attend Rodriguez's appearances have been severely punished and now are whisked away beforehand to avoid the appearance of Cuban reality. You would think that news organizations would read the dispatches written by independent journalists from the island, non?

The Cuban Voter

Tomorrow is Primary Day, so tonight my phone is ringing off the hook with political recordings. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised to get a phone call from the late John Paul endorsing some candidate or other. Politicians have been hitting town like a bad smell, and the media have been touting the changing Cuban and/or Latino vote.

Some points being made in articles like that in today's El Pais are verifiably true. That is to say, Miami Cubans tend Republican; Orlando Puerto Ricans, Democrat. Of course, like all sweeping generalizations, they are subject to error. Overall, Florida is a pretty conservative state. Other assertions like this one are less certain. (my translation)

Los hijos del exilio ya no tienen tan en mente los libros de historia, sino nuevos problemas que les afectan como ciudadanos estadounidenses.

The children of exiles no longer have their minds in history books, but rather the new problems which affect them as United States citizens.

This is true to an extent. We are more American than our parents. But for years, the press and the Democrats have been running around like Chicken Little heralding the demise of the Cuban American Republican bloc. A favorite corollary is that younger Cubans tend to care about Cuba less. In response to this one, I'd like to share a little story to illustrate a point.

Recently, I met up with a cousin of mine I hadn't seen in years, probably the member of the family most likely to vote Democrat. I told him, as I do anyone who asks, that I write a right wing, reactionary, Cuban American blog. I was surprised when he asked, "When did you get so Cuban? I don't remember you being particularly that...." At that moment in the way of Cuban families, everyone was talking at the same time, and I never got to answer. Later, when I tried, he said, "No, it's all right. I have, too."

I offer this little story as a caveat of sorts to all those who are counting on the younger generation being more liberal. Beneath our shiny American exteriors, we carry all of the baggage of our fathers. I can prove the point. Let a candidate who favors normal relations with Cuba and who praises the "achievements" in literacy and healthcare of the regime run for anything and see how many votes he or she garners from Miami Cuban Americans of any age.

I wish I could remember college philosophy. Then I might say that for us a strong Cuba stance is a necessary but not sufficient condition.

H/T Penultimos Dias

In Honor of the Great Man's Birthdate

If we needed any proof of his influence.... No, I don't mean Pavarotti. Jose Marti was born on January 28, 1853. Those are the dulcet tones of Celia Cruz you hear singing Marti's verse set to music.

Guantanamera, Japanese Style

Here is the requisite Japanese Youtube video.

Dr. Who?

I thought the study about chronically underfed Cubans being healthy demonstrated science divorced from humanity, but this one takes the cake for both insensitivity and blind stupidity. What is to Cubans a way to resolver so that they can eat, growing food in any urban nook and cranny without the benefit of any of the advances of the last century, becomes a marvelous environmentally friendly government program to the author, complete with happy brown natives.

Let me just present a few snippets:

Jason Marks writes [6]: “Despite the tropical heat, it doesn't look like drudgery. Among organoponico employees, there is a palpable pride in their creation. The atmosphere is cooperative and congeniaL There is no boss in sight, and each person seems to understand well their role and what’s expected of them. The work occurs fluidly, with a quiet grace.”

and

The hybrid public-private partnership appears to work well. In return for providing the land, the government receives a portion of the produce, usually about one-fifth of the harvest, to use at state-run daycare centres, schools and hospitals. The workers get to keep the rest to sell at produce stands located right at the farm. It is more than fair trade.

and

Joe Kovach, an entomologist from Ohio State University who visited Cuba on a 2006 research delegation sums up the situation: “ In 25 years of working with farmers, these are the happiest, most optimistic, and best-paid farmers I have ever met

and

The success of urban agriculture is put down to the average Cuban citizen’s commitment to the ideal of local food production [7]. There is so much for the world to learn from the Cuban experience, not least of which, agriculture without fossil fuels is not only possible but also highly productive and health promoting in more ways than one.

Alternate Reality. I won't even link to this piece of trash. You can Google it under "Organic Cuba without Fossil Fuels."

Beyond the Gates lies Death and Disgrace

Warning: I give the plot away in this post.

As I was making my way down the aisle at the local Hollywood Video, hubby came up clutching Beyond the Gates. I hesitated, pointing out that it would be the third Rwandan Genocide movie I've endured. But if it says Africa on the case....

The film covers the events at a Catholic school in Rwanda, the Ecole Technique Officielle, where over 2,500 Rwandan Tutsi's sought shelter when the killing began. They were seeking the protection of a contingent of UN soldiers who had been stationed there. In the film, as the days wear on, the true nature of the UN becomes apparent. When a group of white people is brought in, the officer demands rooms with bathrooms for them. Apparently the great outdoors was fine for the Black Rwandans but not for the white Bwanas. Then as mobs of thugs begin to gather outside the gates, the French military sends trucks to rescue only the French. After much arguing, all whites are taken out of the danger zone, leaving a few thousand blacks.

With the machete wielding thugs massed outside, the only thing preventing a massacre is the presence of the UN soldiers, although they can only fire when fired upon. The climax of the movie comes when the soldiers are ordered to evacuate to the airport, leaving thousands of Rwandans to certain death.

All along, I kept thinking of Hotel Rwanda. I waited for the head officer to flout his orders, or for the BBC reporter to publicize events and bring pressure to bear. Neither happened. The people left behind were all murdered; the UN did nothing to stop it. And sadly, it's a true story.

As the movie ended and the credits rolled, it became apparent that members of the film crew had lived through the Genocide. One had actually taken refuge at the school and only survived by hiding under the dead bodies of his family. Brutal.

Here is the movie website for more info.

Sunday Syllogisms

Moral Evolution. A pretty hefty piece from the Times. I'm still working my way through it but definitely of interest. Not surprisingly the author is a Harvard professor. Read it if you're in the mood to wrestle with great questions of biology and ethics.

Moral Economy. On a completely different plane, Victor Davis Hansen dissects our current economic problems in light of the election year and proposes, gasp, that we spend only what we can afford.

Whited Sepulchre? In another entry from Townhall.com, Larry Kudlow takes Bill Gates to task for putting down capitalism. You don't fool me, Billy Boy, I watched the The Pirates of Silicon Valley.

Soul Food. Forbes via MSNBC provides us with a how-to on maintaining our nutrition standards in the ten busiest airports. Obviously the author has never eaten at La Carreta at MIA, although her name is Rebecca Ruiz.

And for fun, click here to see the Swiss Alps more or less live. Foxnews has this nifty feature, a link up to webcams all over the world. Having trouble getting Old Faithful, though.