“El Presidente!”

Ah, kiss my ass.

“Who are you?”

Don’t worry about it.

“Am I still alive?”

Amazingly, yeah.



“No, I was asking for a beej in Spanish.”

Well done.

“Gracias. But, seriously: Johnson dead?”

What year is it?

“No clue.”

Figured. Listen, I got a favor to ask.

“I am a generous man.”

You’re an asshole. Anyway, Brother and Sister-in-Law on the Dead are visiting Cuba.

“BotD and SiLotD?”

Sure. They’re decent sorts and non-political.

“Shouldn’t line ’em up against a wall and shoot ’em?”

If it could be avoided, I’d owe you one.

“Used to line people up all the time.”

Yeah, you’re a prince.

“Che still alive?”

Thankfully, no. He lives on via t-shirts.

“Che was great, man.”

He was a dentist who executed homosexuals.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

Why won’t you die?

“Good genes.”


“Also: your CIA is completely incompetent.

That, too.

“Exploding cigar?”

Don’t bring up the exploding cigar.

“Exploding seashell?”

Don’t bring up that, either.

“There’s a very obvious Wile E. Coyote joke here.”

Yes, I know.

“The joke is just laying right on front of us.”

Listen: it was the Sixties. All the smart people were assigned to the space program.

“Cuba had a space program, y’know.”

Really? How’d that work out.

“Can’t get into orbit in a Packard.”


“But we proved it! It was just a theory before that. So, something was accomplished.”

If you say so. Just don’t imprison my family, please.

“They’re coming to see Cuba before it gets ruined?”


“Do the people who say that think that they’re not going to be the people ruining it?”


“Okay. I watch out for them. Steinbrenner still alive?”


“You’re shitting me.”

Few years now. Why?

“Fucker owes me money.”