Don't Hate the Votah, Hate the Game

Well, let's not accuse King George of waiting too long before beginning the atrocities. This alleged mandate of course guarantees no civilians will be injured in the making of this film: Democracy Comes to the Iraq Heartland. Kind of an interesting Wayne Barrett piece in the world's worst alternative weekly today. The Village Voice: Features: Cast Away: The November Surprises by Wayne Barrett with special reporting by Anna LeMond
But you knew that. Certainly you don't believe Arianna Huffington. HispanicVista Columnists
This election was stolen.
Democracy Now! The E-Vote Factor: Kerry Conceded But Did He Really Lose?
I'm so fed up with so-called responsible commentators ragging on Kerry for running a fundamentally stoopid campaign of so-called flip-flopping or lack of vision or strong stance-taking. He was playing politics, in fact being much less of a sellout than Bill "I give girls copies of Leaves of Grass when I get horny" Clinton. The fact of the matter is that this was an election driven by racism and ignorance and there were plenty of us (people of color, left-leaning urbanites, working-class people with common sense) that voted for Kerry but our votes just weren't counted. I was in Ohio in early October and I felt the tide turning, even in Amish country. We are just being run over by the opportunistic ruling class, once satisfied to rip off the rest of the world with IMF and World Bank impossible-to-pay-back loans, now determined to just suck everything out of us, because the opportunities in the Third World are drying up. Which is why they went into Iraq. Saddam didn't want to take the payoff because he was kind of loony and maybe he had a nostalgia for the UAR and all that Egyptian radicalism that has long since deteriorated into Islamic fascism. Actually, if you look at it that way...the African American left is wiped out by the FBI, we get Tupac, thuggism and mindless hiphop (not talking Dead Prez here). The Arab left is wiped out and we get the twin towers of authoritarian military Baath-ism and fanaticist fundamentalism.



So am I supposed to be happy about Ashcroft leaving and proud of this guy because he's got a Hispanic last name? Hissspanic, puhleez, not Latino and not remotely Spanglish. Guy should be tried and convicted for crimes against humanity for his liberal interpretation of the Geneva convention as applied to people held at Guantánamo. Once ruled that Texas shouldn't have to live under international law! When does it end? When will Nerd Rove get tarred by the brush he splattered Ann Richards, John McCain and those agricultural guys from Texas with? Take it as a challenge, says Madonna on EXTRA! I wish she had taken Reagan as a challenge instead of making the hideous "Material Girl" and "Poppa Don't Preach" videos.


Just got back from La Isla again, and the impending vaguada. Sometimes, as I murmured walking Calle Fortaleza, I just feel good being here. Fills my friggin' heart with joy. And the time I descended the snaking streets of La Perla with La Laura, she of the left-handed note taking and the pertinent questions. She was interviewing me for Cultura Viva, a bizarre Canal 6 show that featured author chats and string quartets playing jíbaro classics. The light rain began falling as I kept rising from my slouch on the malecón, finding an enthusiasm I'd forgotten, and the raindrops got bigger and the kids with the tiny pocket motorbikes rode by. Everyone is great down here in La Perla, and the waves set off by la vaguada kept rolling in.

It was also the week of the luna roja caused by the eclipse, which I caught by walking out of Rancho Morales in the middle of the Red Sox game, the clincher against the equally red Cardinals. It was all so red, so corazón y sangre, that I felt we were passing into a new world, and I was right. The only mistake I made was assuming that because the Populares were red, the Democrats were too. But again, that shit was stolen.

When I returned to La Area Metropolitana there were intermittent blasts of rain, flooding route 3, but I kept the Corolla on course and discovered brilliant Puerto Rican paintings in that new museum in Santurce, and listened to the stories of Argentine etch-crafters and the women they novelized. It was just a heartbeat away to the Dominican comida criolla joint where I shared chicharrones and bacalao. I love the sound of that word, bacalao. And finally, on the beach at Ocean Park, where they let us through the protective gates without running a credit check, I sang the body electric and found a home I never expected to find.