This new series of posts, with titles in Spanish and with themes which are a throw back to my days in Cuba will run from today to the day after the elections.
It was inspired by chance, and actually I now realize that the first column was "the future of intimidation", whose title in Spanish would fittingly be "Brigadas de Respuesta Rapida". The inspiration was provided by the inhabitants of some posh enclaves in Washington DC when Obamunismo is rampant and feverish.
This is what happened this morning:
After the lame debate of last night, there was nothing worthy of mentioning about the upcoming elections. The irrelevancy of the themes touched, the PTA airs of the meeting, and the general torpor of both candidates were a great antidote against all sort of optimism that one could have left in one's system.
But nothing like walking along a nice tree lined street with multimillion dollar manses sporting an amount of signs on their manicured gardens and custom windows hailing the One and Only, the Son of the Sun, and the Divine Himself that in other neighborhoods would be consider littering the streetscape with visual polution. What do I say? The residents of this neighborhood, Georgetown, are known for calling the "quality of life police" and the "code enforcement authorities" on each other for even a birdbath located in the wrong position. Somehow, they tolerate all the Sunbama signs..... and only those.
This morning I ran into a gaggle of ladies whose orime was a few decades overdue, and they were having an informal meeting, all of them radiant in their Sunbama T-shits, with Sunbama buttons, and all kind of other Obamunist paraphernalia. I had to ask them what were they doing so early in the morning. They nicely told me, as ladies whose best years passed are wanton to do when they see a guy who looks like a liberal, that they were organizing a neighborhood patrol to uproot all the McCain-Palin signs they could find. They also have nightly rounds to see that nobody puts McCain-Palin signs in their own gardens. I asked what they would do, if they found one of those "offending" signs, and they told me that they would just substitute it for one sign touting the virtues of the One.
So, I said, not all the signs in this neighborhood signal that the person who owns the house is a follower....
No, they happily told me, with that mischievous spark in the plastic surgery enhanced eye.... No, they are not, we can tell you who is a real Obama suporter and who we have tagged. Nice, I said, nice for this community organization....
What I didn't tell me that all of them are nothing other than viejas chivatonas del comite (for my anglo readers, neighborhood snitches, communist style). Just with plastic surgery in various parts of their anatomies, heavy jewelry, imported cars, big mansions, and fat bank accounts. These are the same people who will call the neighborhood association while offended by the aroma of a barbeque, or when somebody displays a festive multicolored silk flag outside of their house, these are the same who are a bunch of NIMBYists (not in my back yard) who fought teeth and nails to successfully prevent the Washington DC Metro system from having a stop in Georgetown, so the "riff-raff" wasn't able to disembark in this neighborhood, or who scream when a store sells unconventional stuff, or when a restaurant doesn't serve the rarified pseudo-French fare they favor.
They were inspirational, though.
They have inspired me to infiltrate the Obamunistas and bring you my experiences of being embedded among them, from this week to November 5.