Venezuela has sponsored a ballet about Hugo Chavez, depicting the late dictator as a boy selling sweets known as “spiders” on the streets, giving up his dream of becoming a professional baseball player, and dancing against the background of riots in 1989, in which several hundred people died.
“Gotta dance–on the graves of the Yankee imperialists!”
Today is the audition for “A Yugo for Hugo,” the only authorized ballet about our late lamented President for Life Hugo Rafael Chavez Frias! (Try saying that five times fast!) I have good feelings that I will win a starring role as I have been boning up on the evolution of the Great Leader’s thought, the aptly named “Chavismo,” a heady mixture of Bolivarianism and Socialism with a dash of cumin, baked at 350 degrees for forty-five minutes. Technical skills are not so important in the ballet of the people, so my career–which had been stalled by capitalist imperialist prima ballerinas who cared only for themselves–has new life! Me, I care lots about the poor of Caracas, as long as they keep their distance and don’t cough on me.
Must go now–poverty declined dramatically under the Great Leader but still the entire corps de ballet must share a single chile pepper for dinner. The Minister of Dance says hunger keeps us thin as ballerinas should be, but I want to get there in time to take the first bite.
Remember–George H. W. Bush is a donkey, it’s his son “W” who is the devil. This could be worth ten points on a Socialist Thought pop quiz.
“But wait–there’s more!”
I wish we did not have to read Noam Chomsky, the favorite intellectual of President Chavez. He makes the self-evident impenetrable, and has a paranoid streak that makes Oliver Stone look like something out of Family Circus! Oh well, if it makes me a better dancer.
Do they realize that Chomsky is an anti-Catholic from boyhood, while Fearless Leader Hugo maintained his faith–just in case–in the world’s most popular (although perhaps misguided!) religion to his dying day?
I guess not. Tonight’s reading assignment: Syntactic Structures–bo-ring!
My Little Paper Friend-
I have been cast in the pas de trois de double play, a tricky combination (second position to shortstop to first) which reveals how President Chavez felt when forced to give up his dream of playing in the major leagues and making mucho Yanqui dollars–so sad! I am not sure I am capable of conveying the emotions that this role calls for. It cannot have been easy to leave a life of unlimited money, a wide choice of women who want to have your baby and cool red, yellow and blue outfits that make you look like a walking loaf of Wonder Bread for a life of unlimited power, a wide choice of women who want to have your baby and cool red, yellow and blue outfits that make you look like a walking loaf of Wonder Bread.
They are re-writing the script to work in the bold Shortstop Embargo of 2004, when Dear Leader Chavez stood up to the Yanquis of Nuevo Yorquos and other capitalist provinces and said no, no more will you take the fruit of our nation to work in your infields! We will nationalize your scouts if they dare to come here again with their lousy “signing bonuses” and “guaranteed money.” Pah!
On the other hand, the gringos brought many hot dog rolls with them that American pigeons had rejected as stale. Sure could go for one right about this month.
“He wore a razz-berry beret . . .”
I sense envy on the part of Maria Enriqueta during rehearsals. She says I do not possess the classical ballet body that accurately reflects food shortgages. Perhaps I am just a bit quicker on the draw when the weekly pinto bean is carved up to make dinner for twenty!
“There’s a riot goin’ on!”
Tomorrow is opening night-please do not wish for me to break one of my legs!
O Dearest Diary-
The leit-motif of rising oil prices captivated the audience, while the counterpoint of Supreme Leader Chavez giving away home heating oil to the People’s Republic of Massachusetts to further the political career of a Kennedy underscored his continual ability to outfox the Yanqui oppressors!
I think–at least that’s what they told us to think. They say the Citgo sign in Boston’s Kenmore Square has brainwashed the fans of the Medias Rojas (Socks of Red) into thinking such tripe too.
I hear that our neighbors in Colombia, Brazil, Peru, Mexico, Costa Rica, Panama and Chile have something we don’t. Tell me Diary–what is this thing called a “standard of living.”
Available in Kindle format on amazon.com as part of the collection “Dance Fever.”