15 06 2010


Orlando Luis Pardo Lazo

Given that sending open letters to the Cuban parliament can cost you a life sentence, we attached them via Gmail to the U.S. Congress.

Given that to dissent peacefully to each government office in Havana can be a token for the police to erase your biography, paradoxically we agree in Washington with the retro rhetoric of the Revolution.

Given that in 50 years Cuba has become as lonely as the single Texan star on its flag, we socialize more easily with the neighboring constellation’s fiftieth anniversary.

Decades ago, the dissidents of the soviet model began having a but of fun with their little speeches about the perfection of socialism. It is called the survival instinct and was not a logical phenomenon but an intuitive one (more ludicrous than lucid, to avoid the Lubiankan wolves).

And cause for a caricature served as the star of an episode or epistle. Signatures facing off against guns. The sheep against the masters. The less predictable the better (an eighties aesthetic of spontaneity). And without knowing it, they ended up cauterizing everything the system that “capitalism in its imperialist phase) could barely keep cold in the 20th century.

That is quite difficult in a little county self-conscious about politics. It costs a lot to be a little less pathetic and little more performance focused. Deep down, we’re pessimistic patriots. Serious to the point of rudeness. We don’t trust in the mail as a tool of deconstruction We practice shooting in our un-free, but not dreary, time. Sign!… but no signatures.

The capacity for surprise has been abolished by a lack of solidarity as criminal as the prisons. The so-called “biological solution,” invoked by the Cuban gurus, in practice, for one generation after another, has turned into a “egomaniacal solution”: hate, fear, leave (a Panopticon of model verbs).

The irony has mutated into ire and simply waits, on guard, dressed to kill (we still accuse each other of treason and other creepy nonsense). Blackmail with the illustrious cadavers is and will be an irreparable defect of our identity. The future we know is a fossil. And to make it worse, the difficulty of the difference in languages dynamites any approach between nations. Not even Google Translator saves us.

Anarchy is guaranteed as the final outcome. The horror of red blood cells as a recurring history. In our Cubanpolitapocolypse, we are going to miss even the chaos. Cubansummatum est!




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