Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: cuba

Justin Trudeau’s Statement On Fidel Castro’s Death (First Draft)

I have had two fathers in my life: one maybe blew a Beatle or something, and had a Frenchy sort of name; the other was Fidel Castro. He was a baseball enthusiast, and a maestro of the jumpsuit, but most of all he was a leader.

Tears flow like syrup in Canada’s capital city of Toronto today, all in memory of a man who loved Cuba, and who was in turn loved so much by Cubans that they went forth in leaky boats and homemade rafts just to tell the world about him. His popularity was such that you never saw a negative article about him in the Cuban press.

Did Fidel Castro ever have an enemy? Not for long.

As a small and handsome child, I went with my “father” to meet Papa (I called Fidel Castro “Papa”) and we hit it off. I remember Papa saying to me that we “went together like homosexuals and firing squads,” and then he gave me a cigar and a 1952 Packard Clipper.

Once more, 2016 strikes at our best and humbles the hearts of those that thought themselves mighty.

FIDEL! the world cries.

EL PRESIDENTE! Cuba weeps.

Papa, I sob.

Make Sure Everyone Sees The Cake

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2016 is the year the 20th century dies; I told you that in February.

Next year in Havana, Hyman.

Only Obama Could Go To Cuba

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Good ideas take work. Fighting cancer is a wonderful idea, and doctors and scientists and researchers toil long into the night mixing potions and chanting and summoning the Spirits of Health. (I do not know how medicine works.) Good ideas need constant maintenance and sober reflection to not crumble in the face of life’s apathy.

Bad ideas, though, are like weeds: they’ll grow until you set the roots on fire and salt the soil.

Viva Cuba.

Viva La Evolucion

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Being an island nation, Cubans have evolved in different ways than the humans on the mainland. Darwin could’ve saved himself some really long boat rides.

Balades De Contabandistos

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Did he have to–

Nothing was up his ass.

kiester this stuff back? Ok.

You’re just allowed to bring cigars and shit back now.

Huh. The reputation of Cuban cigars is going to plummet.

Plus the price. If you can get ’em, no one’s gonna want ’em.

Does BotD smoke?

God, no.

SiLotD?

Nuh-uh.

Why the cigars, then?

Well, you go to Cuba, you have to get cigars. If you went to Russia, you’d bring back dashcam footage of a child attacking your car with an axe.

How else you gonna show people you’ve been to Brazil if you don’t bring Zika back?

Exactly. It’s a “when in Rome” situation.

No. The saying is “When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” and Romans in Rome wouldn’t do tourist bullshit. This is more like “When in Rome, do as a Chinese tour group would do.”

Could be, sure. Either way, I’m getting my grubby paws on one of those bad boys. Gonna smoke it upwind of children and picnickers while talking on my Bluetooth.

Awesome.

I’m just say: if you had to kiester something, a, en-tubed cigar is your number one seed.

Oh, sure. Cigar tube is the opposite of a ninja’s throwing star.

It almost wants to be kiestered.

Plus, if the plastic cracks and the tobacco gets loose in there, you’re going to get a lot done that afternoon.

Or die.

Maybe both.

La Revolucion

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Brother and Sister-in-Law on the Dead (BotD and SiLotD) have been permitted to leave Cuba and have arrived back in the States. Upon glancing at the phones upon re-acquisition of the American WiFi, they immediately began turning a van into a raft and charting the tides.

(That would be a wonderful Situationist art installation: the Mariel Boatlift, but in reverse, and everyone dressed in tourist drag with fanny packs and New Balance sneakers. Situtationist art is the best kind of art because if you do it right, a war might break out.)

Above is a building in Havana halfway through its first economics class; do not have a conversation with this building.

Havana Party

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Fidel?

“El Presidente!”

Ah, kiss my ass.

“Who are you?”

Don’t worry about it.

“Am I still alive?”

Amazingly, yeah.

“LBJ?”

Dead.

“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.”

Yeah.

“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.”

No.

“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?”

Yup.

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

Yup.

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

Nope.

“You’re shitting me.”

Few years now. Why?

“Fucker owes me money.”

Ok.

 

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