KITTEN!!!!!

Ask me where he came from and I promise, I promise, you will not believe it.

Wanna see a real American?

One that loves his country and is grateful to be a part of it? One that believes in the ideals that this country was founded on and is full of optimism? One that respects his country and those who lead her? One that doesn't take the value of his voice and vote for granted? One that knows the meaning of sacrifice and can plainly see that opportunity is his if he has the determination and perseverance to seize it? One that understands that his country may not be perfect but stands proud that this is his country?

Look for him on election day. He won't be dressed to the nines but he'll stand out. His chest will be out, his walk will be determined. You may see a brief flicker of timidity in his otherwise hopeful eyes. He may seem a bit lost, but you can tell he's overwhelmingly proud to be in your ranks. He'll have a smile on his face and will undoubtedly nod and say hello.

His English may be a bit broken.

He will be a brand spanking new American. One who has just held his hand to his heart and sworn his allegiance to the United States of America. He may have come from Cuba or Poland or Russia or Lebanon or China or Venezuela or Nicaragua or Bulgaria or Romania or Brazil or Vietnam or The Phillipines or South Korea or Haiti. He may be from somewhere else.

He will be there with you at the polls on election day. He may be an old man but it will be his first vote.

Shake his hand, pat him on the back and congratulate him. He will thank you, for it may very well be the first time he has ever had a voice.

Baby Steps

You have to learn to walk before you learn to run, and you have to learn to crawl before you learn to walk.

Freedom takes baby steps in Cuba:

PINAR DEL RÍO, June 28 (Rafael Ferro Salas, Abdala Press / www.cubanet.org) - A retired Interior Ministry officer who now works as a security guard at a local dollar store barred young Alexander Toledo when he saw him wearing a t-shirt with a dissident logo.

Toledo said the graphic image is of a Cuban flag next to a black number 75, for the 75 dissidents and journalists imprisoned in a massive raid in March of last year.

Toledo said the man knows him from the neighborhood, and knows that he is a dissident. "As soon as he saw me coming he told me I couldn't go into the store. From his position he takes the liberty of keeping me from my rights. These are the sort of things that we government opponents go through almost daily."

The symbol of the 75 has been occasioning incidents since it was released between those wearing it and the authorities.

That's the way it begins. A few with enough courage to speak out, some with the audacity to listen. Word begins to spread clandestinely, then it starts to be the topic of whispered conversation on the streets and in homes... It starts out as a crawl.

You start to see graffitti on walls, flyers posted on poles. Then you see a guy wearing a tshirt with the symbol of freedom on it, then you see two, and three, and four...

Brave are those takers of baby steps. They will be the first to take the run of freedom.

Say what? I dont think so.

What, did I move to Cuba and not notice it?

We're going to take things away from you on behalf of the common good.

Hillary Clinton

I got your common good RITE HEAH lady.

UPDATE: The more I read it, the more it pisses me off. I work damn hard for my money.

Our Favorite Sergeant

It's safe to assume everyone knows who I'm referring to in the title of this post. Not only is he overseas right now serving his country, but apart from all his duties as a fine soldier and leader of men, he is making the time and putting forth the effort to help the children of Afghanistan. He's collecting shoes for the kids of the region where he is serving.

Operation Shoe Fly is up and underway. Drop by and give him a hand will ya? As an incentive, I have two Gmail invites left, the first two people that send the good Sgt shoes and drop me a line get one.

Sgt Hook, it's an honor to know you and a privilege to call you friend.

The Road Not Taken

I'm not going to comment on the article in the following link. Im just going to tell you that it is required reading.

Thank you Deb, for turning on the lights in this darkness.

UPDATE: This entry over at Michele's is also a must read. Thank you too, Michele, for bringing along the flashlight.

Need a Bandaid?...

Stand in line behind that sunburned Canadian.

HAVANA, June 25 (Richard Roselló / www.cubanet.org) - The Hermanos Ameijeiras hospital in Havana, one of the government's showcases for its vaunted health-care accomplishments, is being refurbished to provide services to health tourists in better than half its 24 stories.

The repairs were started about six months ago and are due to be completed by September 2. The 1000-plus-bed hospital is scheduled to be split, 55% for foreigners and 45% for Cubans. At present, only three of the top stories have been dedicated for the care of foreigners who pay for services in hard currency.

I am humbled.

Thanks to everyone for wishing me a happy one year blogiversary yesterday. I am truly humbled by all your well wishes and kudos.

In yesterday's post I thanked everyone that came by to read, comment and link to Babalu, yet there are some folks I forgot to thank. You guys there on my blog roll, who take the time to research, look up, find, pick apart, decipher, scrutinize blog and write about such a cornucopia of topics and events and news, are something special. Thank you.

Thanks Dean

Over a year ago I was sitting at the office bored because we didnt have much work. I found myself reading MSNBC I think it was and found an article by some guy named Glenn Reynolds where he was talking about some things called "Blogs." I followed a link to a site called Instapundit and read through it. There was a link there to something called "Carnival of the Vanities" and the name sounded catchy so I checked out that link.

I found myself in a different world. Never had I seen anything like that which was on my screen. I remember I checked out a link to some site named "Dean's World" and I swear, I read almost the entire archives and comments. I was hooked. Dean's World has since been at the top of my Favorites folder ever since.

I liked these blog things.

One day, while at Dean's World I came upon a post titled "This Week in Cuba" and I was surprised. In the short weeks Id been reading blogs I'd never read anything about Cuba. But here was a compilation of news about the island where I was born in a gringos weblog. I posted my first ever comment at that post under a pseudonym.

I was hooked.

A few weeks later this Dean fellow offers to help anyone interested in setting up their own blog. I took him up on the offer and one year ago today, Babalu Blog was born.

I don't even know how to begin thanking Dean Esmay not only for his help in setting up Babalu and coming to the rescue when my MT crashed and all those numerous times when I didnt know what the hell I was doing and he, like the true BlogFather that he is, always took care of the problem, but for being the person who through his blog expanded my horizons. Opened up a new world and is still a part of my daily life.

Coño Dean, gracias mi hermano. Te debo un mundo.

So, yes, today makes one year that I joined this fray. That I became part of the melee on the net. I have met some great people here and have made some excellent excellent friends.

You all that come by here and read my rantings and post comments and link to Babalu... you all have enriched my life.

And I thank each and every one of you because I am all the better for it. Gracias.

Medical mobilization

Here's the compulsory Healthcare in Cuba story of the week:

HAVANA, June 24 (Moisés Leonardo Rodríguez, Grupo Decoro / www.cubanet.org) - Residents of Madruga say they are disgusted by the insufficient level of medical services offered the population lately by the local polyclinic.

Among the reasons for the lack of services that previously were widely available they cite the scarcity of resources and the wholesale shipment of doctors and other medical personnel to Venezuela and several other countries. Even the doctors left behind are overworked as a result of the government's policy.

As a specific example, residents say the polyclinic in Madruga has not rendered optometry services for about two months now, allegedly because their equipment is broken. The problem has been a constant off and on for most of the last year.

During the last year, residents say they were able to make do in neighboring Güines, but that option is no longer viable because the technician there was mobilized for military service.

Putputputputputput

My day started out pretty shitty yesterday. After seeing a guy tossing live kittens out a car window in rush hour trafiic you are pretty much resigned to the fact that your day is blown. I went to the office, did an honest day's work, all the while with the image of man at his absolute lowest in my head. I just couldnt get that murderous bastard out of my head. And the fact that I wasnt able to catch the guy and beat the crap out of him pissed me off too. What a sorry excuse for a human being.

So I leave the office at the end of the day not really as ecstatic as I usually am on Fridays. I felt a bit icky being a part of the human race.

But I was saved.

My nieces brought my nephew Brandon over for some swimming lessons - they were more like not be afraid of the water lessons really. There's something about a little kid playing in a pool for the first or second time that just cleanses you. It's all so new to them, so pure. So free from all the pain and crap in the world that dulls us adults.

My niece Amanda, Brandon's mom, put on his little blue and yellow flowery swim trunks that she'd had for a while now. He looked like a little surfer dude, all he needed was a tan and a little surfboard. I inflated his little yellow life saver and we all just jumped in the pool.

Words cannot describe the fun Brandon had. He played squish ball, splashed around in the water and I pushed him around in his life saver going putputputputputputput. He was the captain of his boat, I was the engine. We did the one-two-three thing from outside the pool while releasing him into waiting hands of his mom or Titi in the water. He had a blast. He even went for a real boat ride in the canal with uncle Val and Pat the neighbor.

But for me however, the most beautiful part about the whole thing was that Brandon is the second generation that Ive done this with. I taught his mom how to swim. I taught his Titi how to swim. I did the exact same things with them so many years back. I was a teenager back then and I really didnt understand the beauty of the moment.

But I do now, and I am so grateful for it. Thank you Amanda. Thank you Titi Maura. And thank you Brandon for making me so proud to be your uncle. For being my family and for reminding me that there is so much good in man.

Captain Daniel Eggers

Green Beret Captain Dan Eggers was killed in Afghanistan when his HumVee drove over a landmine. I did not know him, but by the way Bill of In DC journal speaks of him - they were high school friends - I'm sure we could have downed a few beers together.

Captain Eggers left behind a wife and two children.

Bill is collecting donations for his kids. I know no amount of money in the world can replace a father like Captain Eggers, but he went off to serve his country, to do his duty as a Green Beret, and left them in our care.

Please drop by Bill's and donate to the Special Operations Warrior Foundation if you can. Every little bit helps.

Shame

Sometimes I'll witness something that shames me for being a human being. That makes me feel the human race is but a plague on the Earth.

This morning as I drove to work on a busy 3 lane street, during rush hour no less, there was a car in front of the car in front of me that did something so unspeakable, so inhumane, I found myself sobbing like a baby. I was so filled with sadness and hate and shame that I had to pull over for a few minutes because I thought I was going to vomit.

The person in the car in front of the car in front of me was travelling at about 40 mph and was tossing kittens out the window.

I almost ran one over. I stopped and tried to save him from the traffic but it was too late. The kitten was freaked and just kept running across the street. He didnt make it.

I tried to chase the guy afterwards but it was too late. He got away in the morning traffic.

I am so disgusted and disillusioned right now.

Grandma's Cubanisms

Here's a couple more of Grandma's Famous Cubanisms:

Cubanism: ¡Pa' su escopeta!

Translation: To his rifle!

Meaning: Wow!

Cubanism: Le patina el coco.

Translation: His coconut skates.

Meaning: He's crazy.

Usage:

¡Pa' su escopeta! A Al Gore o le patina el coco, o es odioso.

To his rifle! Either Al Gore's coconut skates or he is full of hate.

UPDATE: In keeping with the Al Gore Cubanism theme:

Steve says Al has guayabitas en l'azotea. Bat's in the belfry.

From Sharpmarbles via Michele, here's my camisa:

Kevin says Al gore is chiflado.

YO NO VOY - I WON'T GO

When my parents left Cuba in the late sixties, they were resigned to the fact that they would probably never set foot on the island ever again. They would never see their home again, or their town. They would never again stroll the parks where they courted in their youth. They prayed that they wouldn't be separated from their families for ever, yet knew that chances were they would never see some of them again. Their loved one's voices had to be locked in memory because exiling would take them a world away.

For years after they arrived in the US they knew little, if anything, about the lives of the families left behind. Phone calls were non-existent, letters sent either never arrived or were censored by Castro government officials. It was the sad reality of the Cuban diaspora.

Back then Castro had the economic support of the Soviets. His regime didn't need US dollars to keep its economy going. So once you exiled, once you left Cuba, that was it. You were no longer Cuban. You were a Gusano. A traitor to la Revolucion. Once you left, you were gone, and Fidel Castro did not allow you back, under any circumstances.

We were real, honest to goodness political refugees. Exiles.

Today's Cuban "exile" really isn't an exile. Exile means banishment, and today's Cubans that have come to the States are not banished from Cuba. On the contrary, they are welcome to visit the island. Encouraged even. It's not just that their families need them, the government can't survive without them. That's why Castro wants them to come back, again and again and again.

There has been quite a lot of commentary and news recently regarding the Bush administration's tightening of restrictions against the island. Critics say Bush is pandering to the Cuban-American vote in Florida. Other critics say the restrictions are dividing the Cuban community and families. Either of these critiques may be true. To which I submit a hardy SO WHAT?

Every four years, every presidential candidate comes to South Florida with a mouthful of promises and Viva Cuba Libres! Every single president since Kennedy has courted the Cuban-American vote. It's nothing new. They come down, tell us they are going to fight to take down Castro, then when elected shuffle some papers around and make little adjustments to their Cuban foreign policy. It's automatic. Move along folks, nothing to see here.

I do however, take exception to certain Cuban-Americans or Cuban "exiles" criticizing the new restrictions. Statements like: "Bush's priority should first of all be to not keep Cuban families apart" are ridiculous to me. As if now it's Bush's fault that they left the island, sought political asylum, and can't see their families agian. Guess what? That's what being a political exile is. That is the hard reality of it.

If you could not have lived without your family you should not have left in the first place.

Every Cuban that exiled to the US up until the '80's knew this and accepted it. Freedom isn't free. You need to earn it. When you left Cuba the only hope of ever seeing the island again was when Castro's regime was gone. History. The US government didn't make you leave Cuba, the US government didnt make you leave your family behind. There's only two people responsible for that, you and Fidel Castro. Castro made the decision to screw your life up, you made the decision not to accept it so you left. It's that simple.

This new generation of Cuban refugees are a product of Castro's revolutionary ideology. Most are completely apolitical. They could care less who is Governor, Senator or President. Unless, of course, the Governor or Senator or President impedes their ability to forward dollars to their family in Cuba or to visit their family in Cuba. Then, all hell breaks loose.

And I feel for these people. I know what it's like to leave family behind. I know what it's like to have aunts and uncles die before ever even meeting them as an adult. I am a Cuban exile. I came here not to make money but to be a free human being. My family left Cuba when I was four years old and there is not a day that goes by where I don't imagine what my life would have been had my family been able to stay.

My aunt, one of the first women to carry me as a baby died before I could ever meet her. She was my father's sister. She died in the late seventies. My father lived with the fact that for the last ten years or so of her life, he was not there. He was not able to be a part of her life. I remember the day she died even though I was a child because I had never seen my father cry. I had never seen his spirit broken. I had never seen him on his knees.

Yet however painful it was, he knew he had done the right thing. He knew that in order to save his family he would have to sacrifice.

Sacrifice.

That is the price of freedom.

Crossposted at the Command Post.

22 of 12,000,000

At the risk of being taken from their homes by force, at the risk of being brutally interrogated, at the risk of being encarcerated like their husbands and family members, twenty-two wives, mothers and sisters organized a protest in Cuba this past Father's Day.

Referred to as the "Ladies in White" these women embody the Cuban spirit, will and determination.

HAVANA, June 23 (www.cubanet.org) - Dressed in white and each carrying a gladiola, 22 wives, mothers and sisters of imprisoned dissidents marked Father's Day in a park near the Santa Rita de Casia Church in the Miramar section of the capital.

After attending Mass, the women marched nearly a mile to the park, under the gaze of police officers.

Once in the park, Alejandrina García de la Riva, wife of prisoner of conscience Diosdado González Marrero, read a document denouncing his imprisonment in the Kilo 5 ½ prison in Pinar del Rio.

Bárbara Rojo Arias, wife of independent journalist Omar Ruiz Hernández, read a poem from her husband, "No te rindas," "Never give up," sent from his cell in the Guantanamo provincial prison.

Twenty-two women out of a nation of 12 million with enough strength conviction to defy the despot. That's how Cuba will free herself from Fidel Castro, when her own people muster the courage to speak out.

WE ARE INEVITABLE

Imagine you live in Cuba where everything is controlled and overseen by the government. One day, you find a little piece of paper with "The New Mango" printed on it on one side, "We Are Next" printed on the other. You dont know what to make of it. Then you get home and find that your wife or husband also found the exact same printed paper somewhere else. They are all over the place yet no one knows what the hell the mean.

Well, someone knows, and the story is told in "La Pionera and the New Mango." Part one can be found here. Part two has just been posted and can be found here.

I urge you to take a trip over to The Tears of Things and read Jerome du Bois' "La Pionera and the New Mango." It's a brilliant work of fiction. I promise you will not be disappointed.

You can almost smell Cuba.

Yankees in the WIN column

New York Yankess pitcher José Contreras will be pitching a little better now. He'll be more relaxed on the mound. He won't have to worry about what he left behind on that island in the Caribbean where he came from.

From now on, as he reads Posada's signals, as he prepares for his wind-up, he'll have his heart in the stands. He'll know his wife and daughters are up there, watching him pitch for the New York Yankees, every Cuban ball players dream.

Contreras' wife, Miriam, and their daughters, Naylan, 11, and Naylenis, 3, made their escape to freedom with 18 other refugees who reached shore before dawn Monday in a packed smuggler's boat.

Contreras was one of Castro's favorites until he defected in Mexico in 2002. The bearded bastard must be fuming now which is good. I hope Castro chokes on it.

Now, there are some Cubans here in Miami that think Contreras is still a communist due to some comments he made when he first got here. that may be so, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I'd like to believe he made those comments so his remaining family on the island wouldn't suffer and further repercussions. Besides, how many communists do you know that make almost $9 million a year?

Thanks to Rob A. for the heads up.

"Dissident Activities"

That's the phrase Castro's regime uses to take proponents for change in Cuba out of their homes by force, interrogate them and sometimes encarcerate them. They also make you move away from where you live, take away your jobs and see to it that you cannot live a normal life.

HAVANA, June 22 (www.cubanet.org) - Daysis Santos, wife of Varela Project activist Nivaldo Díaz Castellón, was taken from her home to a police station where she was told her husband could be imprisoned for 20 years if he continued his dissident activities.

According to Santos, local police chief Hugo Correa in Pinar del Rio province took her from her home June 2, leaving behind alone her young daughter. She was released after three hours of questioning by an officer of state security.

She said she was told that Díaz Castellón could be sentenced to 20 years if he continued his work with the Varela Project and also the Christian Liberation Movement.

Díaz Castellón is member of a dissident family forced to settle in a rural community away from its original home in Escambray.

Democratic Presidential Candidate John Kerry has stated that these "dissident activities" are counter-productive. Which, as it happens, is exactly what the Castro regime keeps saying.

Where's the Enola Gay when you need her?

My watch should have something to remind me that I am still living in the 21st Century. Maybe somewhere right below where it says June 22 it should also show the year I live in. Just to keep me from believing that I live in the f*cking dark ages where barbarians go around beheading people.

I received a bunch of nasty emails and comments last week when I agreed with someone that stated they were about ready to waste the whole friggin area. Raze the damn thing and start a civilization that's actually civil. I thought that mindset would go away, and it did. Until today.

"Oh but they aren't all guilty. Not all of them are murdering thugs."

F*ck that shit. They are just as guilty of Kim Sun-il, and Paul Johnson's and Nick Berg's death as the guys who wielded the machetes. I dont hear any condemnations, I dont see any street protests against those murders over there. Nada. They sit idly by while letting madmen take control. Chopping someones head off is acceptable? This is supposed to be the 21st century for crying out loud. What the hell kind of warped, twisted mentality is that?

F*ck that shit. Get our friends out of there and nuke the whole fucking place. Nuke the hell out of them. They want barabrism? Fine. Lets give it to them.

If you attack, we'll just move in

Fidel Castro, shitting his pants as he's convinced Bush is going to invade Cuba, threatens the US with the only weapon he has: people longing for freedom.

If the US invades or attacks Cuba, Fidel isnt going to launch missiles or air strikes or use any form of conventional weaponry. No. He will just open the flood gates and allow any and all Cubans to leave for the States.

At a rally in front of tens of thousands, he stated that a US attack on his island could lead to an all out exodus. Why would he make that statement in front of his people?

Seriously, how many Cubans do you think there are that heard that statement that are now praying for the US to invade the island?

Not today, I have a headache

Woke up with a severe migraine this morning. Considered calling in sick at the office but realized I had 2 roof inspections to do. I am now home and my head feels like it's about to explode. This is likely he only post for today as I will be taking some major meds in a few minutes.

My migraines are only relieved with complete silence and complete darkness.

See you all tomorrow.

El Puro

Cubans call their fathers El Puro, the Pure One. I'm not really sure where the term came from or why it is used, but I've always thought it appropriate. There's a certain truth to it.

My Puro isn't a writer or an attorney. He's not a doctor or a businessman. He's not a scientist or journalist. He didn't invent the internet nor cure a disease. He is a welder. He is a man that coerces steel. He takes one of nature's hardest substances and through ingenuity, strength and determination convinces it to bend to his will. For the fifty or so years he's been a welder, iron has never beaten him.

Some men aren't content with their chosen paths. They complain about their jobs and their lot in life. And while you'll occassionaly hear a little cursing - Coño! Me cago en la mierda! - when some particular piece of hard metal refuses to cooperate, El Puro has never complained about the callouses on his hands or the sweat he's had to produce. He has always been thankful for his gift.

My old man was never much for words. He never gave me the birds and the bees speech. He never talked to me about alot of things. He taught by example. Still does.

I could never have asked for a better example of hard work and determination. I could never have asked for a better teacher of understanding and respect. Of duty and love for one's family. Of sheer strength and unbridled tenderness.

My father has worked a lifetime so his family would be comfortable. So his wife could have a humble home with a small patch of land for her garden. He swung sledge hammers and burned himself with acetylene torches so that I could have a better life than he did. He worked to buy me all the toys he never had when he was a child.

He's never actually told me he's proud of me but I know he is. I can tell by the way he introduces me to perfect strangers. Aqui lo tienes he always says (here he is). Este es mi hijo (this is my son). He's always puffed up when says that. As if of all the years of hard work, of the countless works of steel and iron he's produced throughout his life, I am his best piece of work. His obra de arte.

I've worried at times that I might not live to his expectations. That he wanted me to be more. But I've been wrong.

He didnt raise me to be a millionaire. He didnt raise me to be famous. He didnt raise me to change the world. He raised me to be a man. A man with dignity and honor. A man with respect and appreciation. A man with morals and values and convictions. A man with love for his family and fellow man.

I am but a slice of his purity and I will live my life proud to be just that. There is no higher achievement.

Felicidades Puro. Happy Father's Day Dad. Being a man like you is my goal in life. Thank you for molding my iron will. Thank you for shaping the ore of my person into this steel work of art in progress.

Varela Project counterproductive

Presidential hopeful John Chancletero Kerry stated the Varela Project - a democracy movement led by a Cuban dissident Oswaldo Payá - is counterproductive.

Apparently, a peaceful grass-roots and constitutional effort for democracy in Cuba is bad according to the man who represents the epitome of democracy - the Democratic party.

I can't believe the American people would allow themselves to be hoodwinked by a man the likes of Kerry.

Pathetic.

Link via Ian.

Wake up, America. Just wake the hell up.

I feel just like this right about now.

Oh, and that goes for this too.

HOLY SMOKES!!!!!

Russia gave the Bush administration intelligence after the September 11 attacks that suggested Saddam Hussein's regime in Iraq was preparing attacks in the United States, President Vladimir Putin said Friday.

Play by the rules, boys and girls...

Being that I am part of the "powerful Florida-based Cuban-American lobby," I am pleased to know the administration's new restrictions on Cuba are being taken seriously this time.

The U.S. government on Wednesday published in the Federal Register regulations that further tighten the embargo against Cuba.

The rules have been set:

The tough new rules allow Cuban-Americans to visit immediate relatives on the island only once every three years, instead of once per year. Visits can last no longer than 14 days, according to the published regulations.

U.S. citizens who are not Cuban-Americans are banned from visiting the island, just 90 miles (150 km) from Florida, with a few exceptions like journalists and legislators.

The regulations ban travelers from bringing back any Cuban merchandise and receiving any gifts of goods or services from the Cuban government, Cuban nationals or citizens of third countries. Travelers previously had been allowed to bring back up to $100 worth of Cuban products for personal consumption.

And authorized visitors can now take only $300 in cash to Cuba, down from $3,000.

The rules also limit to 44 pounds (27.5 kilograms) the amount of baggage travelers can carry to the island and reduce the daily spending limit from $167 to $50.

Educational visits to Cuba were also curtailed.

Good.

Buh-bye Squatters

Imagine your family owned a large plot of land including famrs and a mill. They have owned it since 1857. One-hundred-two years later, a new regime usurps power and confiscates this land. It does not care that it's been your family's for over a century. It doesnt care how much hard work your family put into turning the land into a thriving sugar plantation. the new regime just takes it and throws your ass off.

How would you feel? Your birthright gone. The toil and sweat of generations gone at the whim of one man.

So you and your family move to a new country, become citizens of said country and file suit, a gesture quite possibly futile.

It now looks like that suit may actually be chiselling away at the problem. The US, invoking the law of seized property, manages to get at least one of the squatters on your land to leave:

Jamaica's SuperClubs Super-Inclusive Resorts has pulled out of two hotel contracts in Cuba after the State Department threatened to cancel top executives' U.S. visas because the company is ''trafficking'' in property confiscated from Cuban Americans.

The move marks the first time the Bush administration has applied the controversial Helms-Burton law, which was invoked several times under the Clinton administration, according to the State Department.

The 1996 Helms-Burton law allows the U.S. government to sanction investors who make use of land that the communist regime confiscated from private citizens and U.S. companies in the wake of the 1959 Cuban revolution. Almost 6,000 claims have been filed over seized properties.

Of course, there are quite a few more squatters on that land, but it's a start.

From the Miami Herald (reg. reqd)

Bulletin Board

Just a few blog meassges for today:

First, thanks to my good friend Dave Tepper for the gmail invitation. I'll now have enough memory to store and categorize all those penis enlargement emails.

Second, it's Jeff's one year anniversary of blogitude over at Backcountry Conservative. Drop on by and pat hiim on the back for a job well done.

Also, today happens to be the birthday of a very good friend and fellow blogger, who, mysteriously, has not offered up any new entries for us today. Hmmm, perhaps the birthday beers are flowing. Have one for me will ya, Jay?

While we're on the subject of birthdays and anniversaries, tomorrow is Blackfive's one year anniversary too. Make sure you pay him a visit. There's rumors of a party....

Why I support the embargo

..and the tighter restrictions as well:

I know someone, a professional, who works at an office where there is a small Cuban cafeteria next door. My friend is Cuban and she's gregarious. Get's along with pretty much everybody. She knows the owners of the cafeteria because she orders lunch from there all the time, ocassionaly she goes in for a colada or a cafe con leche.

She tells me the owners of the cafeteria are really nice people. An incredibly hard working Cuban couple who arrived here a few years ago. When they first rented the place, it was a dump. But they busted their asses off, sometimes working 20 hours a day to get the place nice and spiffy. A clean well lighted place as Hemingway would have said.

The cafeteria owners are there every morning before dawn. They cook all the food fresh daily. They serve various cuban dishes and sandwiches and some american dishes like hamburgers and such. Mind you, it's no five star restaurant, but it's not a bad place to have some good food for a more than fair price.

My friend gets along especially well with the female owner. They both have the same first name. We'll call them Maria for the purposes of this story.

When my friend Maria walks into the cafeteria, Maria the owner always shouts "Mariaaaa! Como estas niña!" (Maria, how are you girl.) from behind the counter. My friend replies "Mariaaa! Aqui. Bien y tu." (Maria! OK and you?)

Their conversation continues then, back and forth, both using that playful "Mariaaa!!!" when responding to each other. Like I said, they get along well.

My friend walks into the cafeteria yesterday and during the whole friendly "Mariaaaa!" banter, she notices a new portrait of El Morro and el Malecon (the lighthouse by the sea in Cuba that everyone is oh so familiar with) hanging on the wall.

"Mariaaaa!!!" my friend says. "This portrait of el Morro is new. Where ever did you get it?"

"Mariaaa!!!" the woman replies. "I bought that last week in Cuba. When I was on vacation."

My friend gulped hard. She was completely taken aback and more than offended. My friend is alot like me, she is a staunch anti-communist, anti-Fidel, pro-embargo Cuban.

She sarcastically told the other Maria that she must be making some great money here en la Yuma (Cuban slang for the US). "You have adapted well to the evils of el capitalismo."

This time cafeteria Maria didnt yell out her name. "No," she tells my friend. "I dont make much money here. But I brought back a couple of paintings that I bought cheap and sold them to a guy on South Beach for $3000. Each."

My friend was flabbergasted. I know she was just itching to grab that painting and bust it over the woman's head. "From now on," my friend tells the woman, "Im not going to call you Maria anymore. From on its Pionera."

Pionera or pionero is a term used widely in Cuba. In Cuba, ideological "training" begins in what we would call elementary school. All school kids are called Pioneros. You can see them in pictures from rallies and Castro's speeches, dressed with little red scarves and sometimes carrying signs stating the evils of capitalistic imperialism. They learn about these evils along with reading and writing an 'rithmetic.

Here in Miami, the term Pionero is reserved for Cubans that were not only indoctrinated into Castro's tenets, but that came here not as political exiles, but as economic refugees. The Pioneros here really don't care much about the politics of this country, unless of course, the politics impede or prevent them from making money here that can then be used not just to send to family, but to return to Cuba and live like kings. All the while exploiting their fellow Cubans on the island and the country that afforded them the opportunity to live in freedom.

I certainly don't have a problem with anyone making money. What I have a problem with is adding more money to the coffers of the Castro Regime. Every single entity involved in the tourism industry in Cuba is affiliated with the government. Thus, it doesnt matter that you booked your vacation through Canucks Travel in Canada, the bulk of the money goes to Fidel.

All the talk of the new restrictions against Cuba hurting families and the cuban people in general is exaggerated. Sure, some Cubans will find life more difficult, there's no question about that. But the scheming and back channel negotiations and bribery and exploitation that goes on is rampant.

Maria says the paintings in the cafeteria looked as if the artists had scrounged for materials in order to complete it. I feel for the artist too. The money the woman gave him for the paintings were probably a God send to him. Maybe he used it to buy food for his family or new oils or canvases. Maybe he's glad that Cubans from abroad buy his art, albeit at cutrate prices.

It is a sad reality. It is almost like a disease they live with. Yet money is not the cure. Sending money to Cuba is like fighting cancer with an aspirin. Money will ease the symptoms, but the disease will remain, and the very thing used to ease these symptoms is what makes the disease spread.

Career Choices

If you lived in Cuba, what career do you think you would like to have?

Why, you'd want to be a tourist.

You could travel freely about the island. Stay in hotels, go to beaches and stores. You could have practically anything you'd want to eat and be treated like royalty.

Unfortunately, in order to become a tourist in Cuba you would have to leave Cuba first. And that's where the problem is. The government won't let you leave.

Yet, if you do happen to escape illegally, they sure as hell will let you come back as long as there's dollars in your pockets.

ANOTHER PSA FOR CASTRO APOLOGISTS

This is a public service announcement:

For all of those Castro-ites, those frequent spewers of the terms "universal healthcare" and "100% literacy rate":

If it's the utopia it's made out to be, why arent there any people actually defecting to Cuba. Why are all the boats and rafts all headed in one direction? Is there a ONE WAY sign out there in the Gulfstream somewhere?

Why is it that no-one wants to stay on the island?

What's that you say? If Americans could freely travel to Cuba their would be vessels headed the other way?

True. Very true. But then they would come back wouldnt they? And the only thing staying in the island would be the currency these freely traveling Americans would leave behind.

And we all know how much Castro hates the dollar. We all know that capitalism is evil.

EEEVVVIIILLL.

Take a few minutes...

...of your day today to get away from all the news and hoopla. Grab yourself a little snack, maybe a lemonade or an iced tea or even a cup o'joe. Sit back and chill. Take your mind off of things. No Race for the Office 2004, no Iraq war, no UN scandal, no Abu Grhaib...nada.

While you're chilling out, perhaps a little fiction would do you some good? Maybe letting yourself become a part of someone else's world will give you a brief respite from the daily grind. Heck, a little fiction might even make you appreciate your world a little more.

I have just the piece of fiction you need too. The first part of a short trilogy.

Take ten minutes from your day and read La Pionera and the New Mango. You will thank me. Trust me.

Epicurean Pinnacle

Everyone has an opportunity, at least once in a lifetime, to be involved in something bigger than themselves. Something stupendous. Something monumental. Something fantasticalicious. Something so far and away beyond the scope of normal living that seems almost surreal in it's magnificence.

I have partaken of the mighty fruit of Steve's labor. I have consumed the manna of "Eat What You Want And Die Like a Man," developed and prepared by the cooking diety himself.

Yet, fret not dear readers, you too can find yourself involved in this fantastic food frenzy of mythic proportions. The book, the holy scripture of lard and sugar and pork can now be found at Barnes&Noble and Amazon.

This book will kill the food worshiper in you and have you cackling with laughter as you die with overwhelming satiety.

The Tricycle Diaries

Robert Commie-pinko Redford's latest movie premiered yesterday in Cuba. "The Motorcycle Diaries," a portrait of Ernesto "Che" Guevara as a young romantic, opened in Santa Clara, where Che's remains are buried.

More adulation and masturbation over a murderer.

Here's the ultimate money quote:

"The presentation of the film pays homage to the life of a man who taught us a lot about tenderness," said Aleida Guevara March, Guevara's daughter.

Tenderness? WTF? I almost choked from laughing so hard.

Pathetic.

Rooting for your team

As a kid I always loved watching the Olympic games because I felt I had two teams to root for. For me, there was the US teams and the Cuba teams. My parents on the other hand, always rooted for the Americans. I found this strange, but I was a kid so what the hell did I know. I kept my fandom for the Cuba teams secret, rooting for them quietly.

It wasn't until I got much older that I realized why my parents never rooted for teams from their native country. One of their reasons, of course, for wanting the US to win was that this was now their country. Despite the language and cultural differences, they were and are Americans. It was a way for them to show their patriotism, to support the country that had offered them political asylum and opportunity.

The other reason why they never rooted for Cuba was that they believed the Cuba teams cheated in a way. Those teamns were modeled after the former Soviet block teams. The athletes, for all intents and purposes, were professionals. While they didnt make any money at their sport or have advertising contracts like the pros do here, they did nothing else but work at thier sport. They had no lives otherwise.

Cuban athletes were separated from their families and pretty much forced to perform. The Castro regime held them hostage and as long as they performed as expected, no repercussions would be felt. If they did not perform, they would possibly be ostrasized from the team, not necessarily thrown off the team, but separated. A Cuban athlete being thown off a team for lack of performance does not good propaganda make. Their families might lose their jobs or other "benefits."

My parents understood this because they lived it. It took me a while to get it because, well, I was young and dumb.

Another thing they understood all along was that Cuban athletes dont get regular sports related training. An intrinsic part of their workouts and routines was and is ideological training. Everything in Cuba is part and parcel to the ideology.

This ideology takes away the individual's determination and talent. If they win a boxing match it isnt because they busted their asses off training. It isnt because they were born with a good right hook and stamina. It is because their government has made them this way.They are all one and everyone else is the enemy.

"There is no difficult rival when you are well trained. We train physically and ideologically and that prepares us to face any enemy or obstacle in our path"

Remember, there are only two individuals in Cuba: Fidel Castro and everybody else.

OPERATION SHOE FLY

Sgt Hook needs shoes for the kids in Afghanistan.

He's collecting any and all shoes we can send him.

So my esteemed friends of the blogosphere, in the spirit of Chief Wiggles and minding the words of the infamous Steve Miller Band, I announce the beginning of Operation Shoe Fly in an effort to shoe the children, with no shoes on their feet. If you can collect the shoes, used or new, boys' and girls' (age 14 and under), and send them to me, my crewdogs and I will fly them out to the Afghani kids who so desperately need them.

Please send your shoes to:

Operation Shoe Fly
B Co, 214th Aviation Regiment
Bagram, Afghanistan
APO AE 09354-9998

We have our orders.

The Cusp

Do you remember where you were on September 10th, 2001? Do you remember what you were doing or how you felt or exactly what your day was all about then?

I don't. I have no recollection of 9/10/2001. It was just yesterday too, cause it still feels like 9/11 sometimes.

Sheila remembers.

You get what you pay for....

HAVANA, June 12 (Ernesto Roque Cintero / www.cubanet.org) -The 10 medical
dispensaries attached to the Pablo de la Torriente sugar mill in Bahía Honda, Pinar del Río province, have been closed since the doctors that used to work in them were shipped off to Venezuela to assist in a joint Cuban-Venezuelan government program.

The closings affect some 15,000 residents of Bahía Honda. "We have to travel up to 13 kilometers (8 miles), the lines at the polyclinic are very long, and there are only two doctors who work 24-hour shifts each. The last time I was there, there were approximately 50 patients waiting for one of them, Dr. Osmany Domínguez", said Abigail García, a local resident. "We don't even have a dentist", she said.

García said that in some of the dispensaries, and cited the one at I and 52 Streets, the nurse has been kept on, but is not seeing patients. "I imagine they kept her sitting there, collecting a salary, so that homeless people don't move in, as has happened at some of the closed offices".

CLEAR...ZZZAPPP....CLEAR...

The last thing you want to see when reading one of Steve's posts about cooking and recipes for his food is this:

Time to throw it out.

Especially if it's CHEESECAKE!!!

I read that line at the end of his post and nearly passed out. OH THE HUMANITY!!!

I immediately emailed him: Dude, if you're thinking of throwing that thing out, DONT. Im on my way.

So I have, right now in my possession, in my trembling hands, almost an entire cheescake baked to perfection by Steve.

Oh. My. God.

It's a good thing that home defibrillators are now available.

BTW, if you haven't heard already, Steve has a cookbook out and on sale. You can buy it here.

CLEAR...ZZZAPPP....CLEAR...

Malaise

Am I the only one not feeling very bloggy today? There's lots of stuff going on in the news and such yet I just can't seem to find a coherent and cohesive blog thought.

This sucks.

A heartfelt thanks

My wife and I want to thank all of you that offered condolences on the loss of our dog Caty. It has been a great comfort to us knowing there are such kind people - most of you are folks we've never met - who understand our pain and offer a kind word and gesture.

Gracias.

CatDog

My buddy Tommy called her CatDog because when I would cut her hair really short she looked like a big fat cat. He'd come for BBQ and save his scraps, and everybody elses, "for CatDog." I used to call her Viejuca - little old lady. I think she liked the way that word sounded. My wife called her Caty Mama as Maggie never really liked the name Caty.

See, Maggie was never really supposed to have had Caty. Caty was one from the last litter of pups that her dog Laika had. Caty was given her name by the young couple that had adopted her. They had, against my wife's wishes and advice, taken Caty as their pet to live with them in an apartment. Maggie warned them that Chows need yards and that if she was anything like her mother she would do anything to get outside. They took her anyway.

A few months later, my wife went out to the yard and found her there with a note attached. "Her name is Caty. We could not keep her." Apparently, they had thrown Caty over the fence.

So my wife kept her.

Caty was a unique dog. If she knew you, she was sweet as syrup. If she didnt, you knew instinctively to stay away. My step son Carlos grew up with her. She was more his dog than anyone else's. She loved him despite the fact that as a kid Carlos would dress her up in his Spiderman pajamas and underwear. She would walk around the house with her tail sticking out from the Spiderman underwear's "peepee hole."

I'm told that Caty would "escape" for weeks at a time and then one day just show up at their house all dishevelled and tired. She would then sleep for days. She was, as all pure bred Chows are, an excellent guard dog and hunter. At that time my wife had a neighbor with lots of cats and Caty left quite a few of them on my wife's doorsteps. Maggie and Carlos buried alot of cats.

Caty was a fierce guard dog. She was dauntless. When my wife and I first moved in together I had to fix up her apartment before turning it back over. Caty had chewed through parts of the moldings, door frame and front door of her apartment, possibly trying to get at someone trying to break in or after the hated Mailman. There's a picture of her and Carlos by a chain link gate at their old home. The grid on the steel chain link is rounded from her chewing on them in order to get at the cats.

She was my dog Othello's mother. Apparently, during one of her week long escapades out on the streets of Miami, she had hooked up with a black Labrador. This produced a litter of beautiful mutts. I used to joke that Othello, being part Black Lab and part Chow, was "smart, with an attitude." With the exception of his first 7 months or so, Caty lived with Othello his whole life. When he was killed in traffic, having taken after his mother and escaping (he swam across a 50 foot canal), Caty moped for weeks. She would not eat, she would not nap. She would just spend the entire day looking around the yard for her son. She would pee around the yard, take a few steps and then look around, waiting for Othello to come and pee in the exact same spot as he always did. I feared we would lose her if she didnt get some company soon.

Along comes Babalu, the big, clumsy, playful and untiring Golden Retriever puppy. He brought back new life into Caty. Of course, she was never really able to play with him as she did with Othello, but he kept her company. Babalu would lie on his back and she would lick his face and rub his belly with her nose. I think she thought he was her own son. Every moring Caty was greeted by Babalu slobbering on her face. As I write this, Babalu is frantically running around the yard and barking. He is looking for her. It is heartbreaking.

Saturday morning at around 2 A.M. I got up for a glass of water. When I got to the kitchen I heard Caty crying, almost like a moapy yelping. I went outside to check on her but the minute I opened the door, I saw some deliquent kid breaking into my wife's car. I screamed at him, he took off. I gave chase. When I got back to the house, I petted Caty, told her "Good girl mi Viejuca." Old as she was, I figured, she was still on guard. Still dutiful. Still alert. Caty was the only dog I knew that when you petted her, she would tremble. It was almost like she was purring.

In the morning, when I went outside to check out the damage to the car in daylight, she was lying by the door. I stepped lighty as usual so as not to wake her. She always stood up when awoken suddenly and seeing an old dog like her trying to get up is heartbreaking.

I came back inside, the wife and I had breakfast and the she went to feed the dogs after letting Babalu out. (Thats another thing about Caty, she hated being inside. Hated it.)

I heard Maggie saying "Caty. Caty. Ven Mama, a comer." She repeated it a few times, and then I heard her screaming for me. Caty was dead. Died in her sleep right by our backdoor.

I know now that the maoning I heard was not her trying to chase away a burglar. It was her saying that it was her time, that even though she loved us and lived in a big beautiful yard and had thiss big beautiful adopted puppy, it was her time to go. Maybe she didnt want to die alone. Maybe she was moaning so that I would be by her side when she closed her eyes for the last time.

Im sorry, Caty. I wish I would have understood. I wish I would have been there to rub your back and that little spot on the top ofyour head that always made you purr.

If there is a doggie heaven, Caty will be its favorite angel.

Descansa and paz Viejuca.

A Full Life

Caty, my wife's dog, died last night. She was 20 years old. A beautiful, noble, sometimes ferocious Chow. She was my other dog Othello's mom. When Othello went missing, I thought she was going to die. She didnt eat for weeks. I loved her and I know she loved me.

I buried her in the yard, overlooking the canal, in the shade of the pines trees where she would nap in the afternoons.

El Nuevo Mango

I woke up this morning and for a good hour or so I was in Cuba. I made new friends, became involved in their lives. I found myself as an intrinsic accomplice, a compañero, another piece of the puzzle they live. It's bittersweet...

Actually, I feel as if I'm still there, as if there's something I need to be doing for them, as if I have a role to play in their lives and I need to be playing it right now.

Jerome du Bois introduced me. He pulled out a chair for me. Here, relax. Sit down a minute. Let me tell you a story...

La Pionera and the New Mango

Jerome calls it a techno-epistolary novella. But it's more than that. It's a brilliant allegory.

Read it, and tell me if you were in Cuba or not. While you're there, say hello to my new friends. Ask them about the New Mango.

Descansa en Paz Sr. Presidente

"Whatever else history may say about me when I'm gone, I hope it will record that I appealed to your best hopes, not your worst fears; to your confidence rather than your doubts. My dream is that you will travel the road ahead with liberty's lamp guiding your steps and opportunity's arm steadying your way."

--- Ronald Reagan, in a Speech at the 1992 Republican Convention

UPDATE: Bill of In DC Journal has yet another excellent photo essay.

Shamlessly lifted from A Small Victory and Hog On Ice.

Cuban Dissident Freed

The French Government manages to have at least one Cuban dissident prisoner freed:

Leonardo Bruzon Avila, a little-known Cuban dissident who gained fame outside his homeland through international campaigns for his release, was suddenly freed from jail Tuesday and he said he would leave soon for France.

"My struggle is inside Cuba but I will go to France so that my voice is heard outside Cuba," Bruzon said in brief comments to reporters at his home in central Havana.

Bruzon Avila was one of the Cubans that visited an Arizona art gallery in Jermoe du Bois' brilliant piece The Prisons Behind Lisa Sette Gallery: Cuban Art Series #6.

Gracias Jeronimo.

Grandma's Cubanisms II

Here are two more great Cubanisms from Grandma:

Cubanism: Le zumba el mango!

Literal translaton: It lobs the mango!

Meaning: "That's incredible!" or "I can't believe it!"

Usage: There's people that still defend Fidel Castro. Le zumba el mango!

Cubanism: Le puso la tapa al pomo.

Literal translation: He put the cap on the bottle.

Meaning: He did something very very well.

Usage: When Reagan ended the Cold War, le puso la tapa al pomo.

Cubans with Class

Dissident Cuban civil societies send condolences to Nancy Reagan

HAVANA, June 10 (www.cubanet.org) - Four dissident civil society organizations have sent a message of condolences to Nancy Reagan on the death of former president Ronald Reagan, "whose memory will be an eternal reminder for every Cuban who fights for freedom and democracy in Cuba."

The organizations sending the message were the Cuban Human Rights Foundation, the Union of Free Workers of Cuba, the Cuban Democratic Coalition and the Independent Library Network.

"We want to recognize such an illustrious American citizen for having fulfilled his protagonist role in the U.S. fight against the forces of evil, as Reagan called international Communism," the message said.

The message also thanked Reagan for the establishment of Radio Martí which, it said, kept the Cuban people informed.

The message was given to Cuba's independent journalists for distribution. It was signed by the presidents of the organizations: Juan Carlos González Leiva, Reinaldo Cosano Alén and María Elena Mir Marrero.

MORONS

For the next imbecile that comes to my blog and brings up Batista's murderous reign in Cuba:

It's a given. Happened in the '50's. Lots of water under the bridge since then. Castro has caused the deaths of countless more.

If you didnt live in Cuba under Batista, or have never lived in Cuba under Castro and are going to come here spewing secondhand Castro-loving shit, please, shut the fuck up and get the fuck out. There are plenty of other sites where you can preach to your myopic choir.

If you want to learn something about Cuba and Cubans, you are more than welcome to stay, but keep your standard off the shelf leftist verbal diarrhea to yourself. Ive heard it all before. I prefer the truth.

American

Best quote from a person in line to pay his respects to President Reagan:

"I am here for the Republic."

The Gipper

I watched yesterday's ceremony in DC for President Ronald Reagan. When I wasnt holding back the tears, I was unbelievably impressed by the gallantry of the American people. Some folks drove for hours only to wait in line for yet more hours to pay their respects to the former President.

Little kids on their father's shoulders holding up signs saying "We Love You President Reagan;" teenagers standing in line to pay homage to a man they had only heard about; Democrats; Republicans; Independents. It was a thing of beauty to see all of America together for a c