The Dictator Doth Protest Too Much

In his latest reflection, "comrade fidel" complains of a BBC dispatch that has him allegedly locked in a room with Raul, screaming at each other over their differences. The aforementioned dispatch had made barely a ripple, but by denying it, castro only calls attention to his perceived differences with his brother.

And speaking of calling attention, he ends the reflection with the clause "but I have no reason to be ashamed of that." What he's not ashamed of is unclear; the reference is ambiguous. It may be that he is reduced to writing, or it could be the volumes of material he has produced. I just find it interesting that the concept of shame, even if it's in denial of same, is introduced there at the end in a position of power.

"Oh what a tangled web we weave,/When first we practise to deceive!"

I refuse to link, but you might want to read this one if only for the amusement of seeing him seize on the lastest fad, the green movement, as he desperately scrabbles for some legitimacy.

Going Bookish

I have been a bad girl, I confess. I've been reading escapist stuff for the past few weeks. Every once in a while, like a wine taster cleaning his palate, I have to read some pure entertainment and clear my brain. Among the better entries:

Lady in Blue by Javier Serra. This one is deceptive, opening as it does with mystical experiences in the Southwest. I'd probably like to say that the ending is disappointing, but that would not do justice to the book which I enjoyed quite a bit. It's a good read, almost engrossing, beginning as it does with a combination of narratives about different characters in different locales in different eras a la Ludlum. Unusual.

T is for Trespass by Sue Grafton. I never miss an installment in her alphabetical mystery series featuring Kinsey Millhone. As I checked it out, I was told it was a bit different from the others, a bit more complex. It is different in that Grafton gives away much of the ending in the first few chapters. The question is how she's going to get there. And while I enjoy Kinsey's family of choice, landlord Henry and the rest of the crew, they form the central story here. I prefer them more as local color. And where's the boyfriend?

Hand of Evil by JA Jance. This is the third in the Ali Reynolds series. For the unitiated, Jance has at least three mystery series. My absolute favorite are the JP Beaumont novels, set in Seattle. There's also a pretty nifty Joanna Brady series set in the Southwest. Ali is a newer introduction. Burned by life, Ali returns to her hometown where she finds herself embroiled in not one but two mysteries. Any Jance is excellent, fast-paced and enjoyable reading, but I particularly enjoyed the dysfunction aspect in this one. By the way, Ali keeps a blog. Speaking of blogging, Jance has one on Amazon. It appears that there have been rumors she died. She apprises us that she is alive and kicking here on her blog.

Cuba News Round-up

There's been so much going on...

Which Raul? If you read the Babalublog post on the Newsmax article on Raul by Humberto Fontova, you might notice the slight omissions in the AP's bio of same. You know, his role as executioner, perhaps.

Again with the Snacks. I took exception to this one in an earlier incarnation. Fellas, the word snack implies in addition to three squares, a near impossibility in Cuba. To use this terminology creates and propagates a misunderstanding that can have serious ramifications for these same Cubans who haven't had a true snack in decades.

Who Stole the Cookie. For those of you that didn't know it, the US is to blame for Cuba's predicament. The many sins of the US apparently wipe out fifo's thievery, murder, nuclear threat, political oppression and economic mismanagement. Or so DeWayne Wickham seems to suggest, writing in USA Today. I've given up expecting anything factual from that source, but really. Read it. Know the enemy. Wickham also earns a lifetime membership in the tortured metaphor club with that book analogy.

Dear Jose. New York politician Jose Serrano, who was the only one of same who saw fit to issue a paean to a murderous dictator, might benefit from reading this open letter to the United States Congress by Rolando Jiménez Posada, one of those imprisoned in the Black Spring of 2003, particularly the part about asking for congressional support. Of course, he'll probably need a translator.

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother

The bond Cubans share on and off the island through the generations has been in the fore the past few days. The entreprenurial bent evident in those who fled to the United States is so characteristic of the Cuban spirit that the assumption Raul is going to convert to one currency has led to an outbreak of money exchanges on the island. People are changing money on the speculation that the peso will rise. En el medio de la inopia, they think like Soros. Have to love my people. Unleash them, and we'll see about third world country.

Then there have been the remembrances for the Brothers to the Rescue pilots. This one I find particularly touching. In Cienfuegos, in Santa Clara, in Havana and other places, ceremonies were held to mark the day that the four were murdered in cold blood. Flowers were set adrift in the sea; a condolence book was started; a commemorative banner was displayed; and speeches were made. Of all of the tributes on February 24th, I suspect these would have been the most precious to those who lost their lives.

I suspect that they know that whatever our differences in approach, in the face of their abandonment by the world, the Vatican, that we have remained faithful. We, very nearly alone, have stood up for their dignity and their rights as human beings.

They've Gotta Be Kidding

There's some question as to whether McCain, the son of a military officer born on a military base in Panama, is actually eligible to be President. Is he a natural born citizen? Seems Barry Goldwater had the same problem, having been born when Arizona when it was still a territory. I kid you not. Read it here.

Updated: Rest in Peace

                    William F Buckley (AP Photo)

Just learned via Drudge that one of my heroes has died. The man's mastery of the word was awe-inspiring. The languor of his presentation, a sharp contrast to anyone I knew, was deceptive and cloaked a rapier like keeness of intellect and expression. Rest in Peace.

Update: Here's a link to Ann Coulter's column. It contains some classic Buckley.

A Study in Contrast

Quienes nunca tuvieron miedo, sin que se lo dijeran el Papa ni el Cardenal, fueron aquellos hermosos jóvenes iluminados por los ideales del amor a la libertad y a nuestro Señor Jesucristo que se enfrentaron a las balas de los pelotones de fusilamiento al grito de “Viva Cristo Rey”.

The Ones who didn't have fear, without being told by the Pope or the Cardinal, were those beautiful young men illuminated by their ideals of love of liberty and our Lord Jesus Christ who confronted the hail of bullets with the calls of "Viva Cristo Rey," or "Long Live Christ the King."

Alfredo Cepero in a article on Misceláneas de Cuba, entitled "With God and the Devil" in which he contrasts the timidity of the Church to those who faced Fidel's firing squads. If you read Spanish, it's worth the visit here.

Martinez's Official Statement

MARTINEZ STATEMENT ON RESIGNATION OF FIDEL CASTRO

February 19, 2008 - WASHINGTON - U.S. Senator Mel Martinez (R-FL) today released the following statement regarding the resignation of Fidel Castro.

Martinez said:

“Today I am cautiously optimistic for the people of Cuba and another step is closing on a long, dark chapter in Cuban history. I look forward to the day that Cubans will be able to freely elect their own leaders. Unfortunately, today's news does not facilitate that yet. We must remember that Fidel Castro has resigned from a position he was never elected to in the first place.

“The goal of U.S. policy is clear and remains that we must see the unconditional release of all political prisoners; the respect and recognition of fundamental human rights; and a genuine transition towards political freedom, the rule of law and democracy.

“Cubans are calling for change. The responsibility of the international community is to stand in unequivocal solidarity with those courageous civil society leaders that despite tremendous repression work steadfast for the goal of a common dream: a free, sovereign and democratic Cuba.”

How's This for Presumption?

In the International Herald Tribune, an article about how Raul is going to make changes, although the Cuban people don't yet believe it. Maybe, because like they know who they're dealing with here. Or maybe because all of the changes mentioned in the article are small economic ones, because maybe there is not a word about freedom of speech, freedom of association, elections with more than one candidate for an office. And where are the political prisoners in all of these changes? They're in the gulag, where they're apparently staying.

They did have one particularly good quote:

"Everyone is afraid to talk," said a student sitting on a park bench nearby who identified himself only as Alejandro. "This is the time when the people should go to the street, but they are afraid. My country is like a prison."

The Truth at Last

Here's one for all the condescending bigots out there who seem to think that preCastro Cuba was a third world country. In an article by Joachim Bamrud in the Latin Business Chronicle, we find this telling little detail.

... Cuba today is far worse than it was before the 1959 revolution that swept Castro to power. Adjusted for inflation, the GDP per capita of Cuba is now only five percent of the one enjoyed in 1958, according to calculations by Salazar-Carrillo.

The rest of the article is chock full of facts that might be surprising to some, not, of course, to those whose families lived it. Read the whole thing.

H/T Gusano at Babalublog

A Reason to Believe

A Reason to Believe
A few weeks ago, before the term became common coin, I was running around, thinking that this Obama thing was like the "cult of personality." To my chagrin, the idea struck a number of people. Oh well, pride goeth before the fall. I hadn’t posted right away, because I had the germ of an idea brewing, namely that the Obama mania is just one more indicator of a larger phenomenon.Despite our diverse ethnic and racial makeup, the character of our Puritan forbears has formed a current running through American society for centuries. The advent of the boomer generation brought under attack those institutions which channeled these inclinations. It made of morality and its attendant religious practices an irrelevancy and of governmental authority a subject fit for cynicism and mockery. Deprived of its natural venues in civics and religion, this puritan zeal has manifested in a number of intriguing ways.

We now have civic “sins” like smoking and transfats, the denunciation of which at times rivals the oratory of Jonathan Edwards. The topic of global warming, for instance, has taken on quasi religious overtones with all of the characteristic sanctimoniousness on the part of believers. And then there is Obama. For all I know, he may be a marvelous person and might make a decent president. I don’t think so, but it’s within the realm of possibility. What I fail to see and hear is the cause for all of this devotion.

I must be immune or something. As I see it, all he’s proposed so far involves the disbursements of huge amounts of money, money which has to come from somewhere. And read his counter to McCain’s criticism of his approach to Cuba. I’m starting to form the impression that he’s going to feed us lip service all the way to Havana as he prepares to sit down with the Dons.

So as I watch these mass rallies that have taken on the aura of revival meetings, the messianic overtones with which he is imbued by his followers and see nothing to merit it, I have to find some way to make sense of it all. I’ve come to the conclusion that the faith, its natural course denied, has deviated course into other outlets, because as human beings we need to believe in something greater than ourselves. Therein lies the great mistake of the boomers, and I count myself as one: hubris.

Without Comment

Los obispos de Cuba en reunión ordinaria con el cardenal Tarcisio Bertone, secretario de Estado del Vaticano, dieron hoy "un voto de confianza" al nuevo presidente cubano, Raúl Castro, en sus objetivos de paz y en la aplicación de cambios "en bienestar del pueblo cubano".

The Bishops of Cuba in a meeting with Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone, Vatican Secretary of State, today gave "a vote of confidence" to the new Cuban President, Raul Castro, in his objectives of peace and in the application of changes "in the wellbeing of the Cuban people."
from La Nacion.cl.

H/T penúltimos días

The Changing of the Guard

No, not that one. The Times has an article about the declining Cuban population in Union City. Although I never heard it called "Little Little Havana," I did spend quite a bit of time there in my youth. It's where we went to visit relatives, eat sandwiches, and buy those nylon T-shirts to send to Cuba at El Waterloo. So the news that it is losing its Cuban character and becoming more multiethnic is just one more loss to add on top of loss. I'll have to check with Rafael Martel to see how true it all is.

Meantime as Victor Bas, whose father first opened Waterloo, is quoted as saying:

There’s a lot of ‘used to be’ around here.

The Closet of Curiosities

Michelle Obama has made her thesis available online here, ending the mystery. Princeton had refused to release it until after the election. Entitled "Princeton-Educated Blacks and the Black Community," it is surprisingly personal for a senior thesis. It seems to have been written under the auspices of one of the social sciences, and as an English major I don't think I'm qualified to critique it. I could comment on the writing, but I won't: that would be petty, wouldn't it?

But all of that aside, I think that her thesis should be irrelevant to her husband's run for the presidency. What are they gonna do next, dig up his daughters' preschool drawings? And I don't even like the guy. I think he's the AntiChrist. But fair play is fair play.

looting in beograd

Here's the video. The link from the article doesn't seem to exist, but this is the footage. According to hubby, who knows these things, the dialogue at the end consists mainly of curses.

Sunday News

Falcons and Filchers. In one of the oddest developments this week, two young female looters in Kosovo have become counterparts to the Obama Girl on YouTube. As one of the perps put it, "We looted because we are poor, not because we are rich." Read about it. If you think the Cuba situation is hard to discern, try the Balkans. Books highly recommended on the topic: Balkan Ghosts By Robert D Kaplan and Black Lamb and Grey Falcon by Rebecca West, this last if you are a history buff with the patience to read two volumes.
via Drudge

Superbugs and Soldiers. In a frightening twist to military injuries, at least 20% of returning casualties will face a highly resistant bacteria. Doctors are in a quandary as to how to respond. Meanwhile here's another story about antibiotic resistant bacteria wreaking havoc with one woman's life stateside.

Dogs and Divas. News comes that the Dog the Bounty Hunter Show will resume production. Don't watch it myself, but it's nice to see him back. Speaking of nice things, Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony are the proud parents of a matched set, born on Friday in Long Island. Read it. Bienvenidos, twins!

Nibs and Nips. One of those things you didn't know here. Apparently, there is a myth in England that the queen owns all the swans. One little girl, bitten by one of these beautiful but foul-tempered creatures, wrote to the Queen for an apology. Despite not owning the offending fowl, the Queen complied. Only here.

The "Eyes" Have It

Here are some responses to the Great Stepdown from around the web.

from The Beast of Havana , an editorial at NRO online:

Fidel Castro has been one of the cruelest dictators in living memory. He has also been the longest-“serving.” What has Castro served? Repression, torture, and murder. He seized power in January 1959. He is now “retiring,” just short of his 50th year in power. His golden jubilee will surely be marked, regardless; seldom have 50 years been less golden or more awful.

from Elmer Smith: "It's past time: Normalize relations with Cuba now" in Philadelphia Daily News:

Embarrassing is a kind way to describe it. Hypocritical, counter-productive, duplicitous and short-sighted are a few equally apt descriptions.
(Describing US Policy, not the obvious)

from After Fidel, an interview with Brian Latell, author of the tome by the same title, in Newsweek.

On Tuesday, the State Department called Raul "dictator lite." Is that a fair assessment?

Well, Fidel and Raul are dictators. They've never been subjected to a fair, democratic process.

And so it goes...

The Cardinal's Mass for the Pharisees

I was born and raised a Catholic, inculcated in the faith by the old style Sisters of Charity with their bonnets and pendulous rosaries and intransigent adherence to the faith. The result of which has been that I have carried around a load of Catholic guilt most of my life. But throughout it all, the Church stood before me holding up an ideal.

It didn’t matter when they themselves fell short of it. I would tell myself, the institution is human; the faith, divine. Even the sexual scandal could not shake my faith. I felt in part that they got their just desserts and in the other I thought the excessive hype was part of a liberal left agenda to effectively silence the church as a moral force on issues where the Church’s stance was inconvenient.

But the behavior of Cardinal Bertone in Cuba crystallized for me in one instant just how far it has strayed from the faith inspired by a poor Nazarene carpenter. I am indebted to Leonard Doyle for his description of the proceedings. See it was the Mass, the Mass for the invited. Left off the guest list for some reason were the Damas de Blanco, or Ladies in White- the wives, the mothers, the relatives of the political prisoners the regime says do not exist. These women attend Mass weekly. The murderers and thieves that make up Cuba’s Mafia were invited, however; they had front row seats.

The ladies were initially denied entry. Then they were forced to stand in the back, a position the Cardinal’s procession somehow avoided. At a point in the Mass when the Cardinal was asking for Cuban reconciliation, they broke into religious song, causing a near fracas with the security people. Did the Cardinal avail himself of that moment to ask even in the gentlest of terms that the government, those very men sitting in front of him in their Italian suits with their trophy wives/dates/whatever, reconsider their treatment of their fellow man? No, after a moment he continued. Bestowing an embrace and a churchly cloak over one of the worst remaining band of cutthroats running a country. Did he stop and say, “I cannot continue, because this sacrifice would not be acceptable to my Lord in these circumstances?” Or did he come off the altar, walk to the back and extend his hand saying, “Come my children. The Lord said that the last will be first.” Did he seat them before the altar, as Jesus would have done?

He did none of these and in his omission rendered a mockery of the most solemn of Catholic rites. I have never been so ashamed of my church.

Read Leonard Doyle’s article here. It is a seldom seen in the media perspicacious view of Cuba as it truly is.

H/T Gusano at Babalublog

Between the Stirrup and the Ground Revisited

Okay, as I recall Graham Greene's character didn't do too well with the repentance part either. El Comandante Caggado has fired back at the world, particularly the United States. So much for my theory. But maybe not. As I see it there are three options. He is an unrepentant SOB. Since he has been just that for most of his life, this is a pretty good probability. The second is that his "reflections" are being penned for him, also a distinct possibility. The stupid humor of "change in the United States," though, sounds very much like the man of old, so I'm less likely to opt for that one. There is, however, there is a third possibillity. For this one, we need another literary parallel. How about Shakespeare?

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,--
A brother's murder!--Pray can I not,
Though inclination be as sharp as will:
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent;
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,--
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what's in prayer but this twofold force,--
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder!--
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
Of those effects for which I did the murder,--
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardon'd and retain the offence?
In the corrupted currents of this world
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice;
And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above;
There is no shuffling;--there the action lies
In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence. What then? what rests?
Try what repentance can: what can it not?
Yet what can it when one cannot repent?
O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay:
Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart, with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
All may be well.
Claudius' soliloquy from Hamlet.

Today's Words of Wisdom

He does not retire. Fidel Castro is incapable of retiring, incapable of knowing himself incapable. He was retired a year and a half ago in a palace coup, all of them against the sick animal, just like Stalin retired Lenin, so that he would recover from his illness, very far and very hidden away.

Jaime Leygonier, Independent Journalist, Cuba. Read the rest in Spanish here.

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.