oscar wilde
si yo viviera en cuba lo mas probable es que fuera el mejor blogger del pais. me hubiera robado un laptop de una oficina publica o del apartamento de lagarde. los periodicos de cuba no publicarian mis articulos, pero tampoco los de miami. me explico. alla el gobierno me llamaria mercenario pero aca la prensa local me llamaria seguroso. porque estaria protestando por todo y contra todos. y nadie me veria con una jabita saliendo de la s.i.n.a. ni llamando a esa linea telefonica que hay para quejarse. pero no quedara una ventana sana en bohemia, ni granma, ni trabajadores ni juventud rebelde. y de agarrarme alguien en casa de monserrate seria robandole los humidores de tabaco. tampoco aceptaria orientaciones de nadie, ni del gobierno ni de la embajada americana. ni votaria en un lado ni en el otro, que en ambos lados se vota en falso. y si una semana me inventaba la muerte de un comandante alla, a la otra se moria otro comandante aca. y ya usted veria al de alla saliendo en un maizal de moringa y al de aca en un redil con un tanquecito de oxigeno con rueditas. y las huelgas de hambre conmigo no funcionarian del todo, ni asi fueran de aguacates. tal vez hacia shows de protesta a ver quien se comia mas ensaladas de helados coppelia sin que le diera la punzada del guajiro. y de aplicar la democracia estaria organizando un piquete frente a la embajada exigiendo que no jodan mas con el embargo. y escribiria contra las mulas que llenan a cuba de falsa esperanza y contra el contrabando humano que inunda las calles de miami de desesperanza. y protestaria contra los cubanos del congreso americano y contra los de la asamblea del poder popular, que aplican la miseria a su propio pueblo mientras viven mejor que los demas a costa de las tarjeticas del partido. y desde luego, porque es mi caracter, atacaria a mis colegas los otros bloggers: los oposicionistas y los oficialistas. a ambos por arrastrados, lo mismo del capitalista que del comunista. y lo peor es que por esa labor tan dificil y austera no me darian un solo premio: ni la s.i.p., ni el grupo p.r.i.s.a., ni times magazine, ni foreign policy. y la policia cubana, como era de esperar, que ha demostrado ser bastante ineficiente atajando el orden, me tendria un miedo del carajo porque si cualquier bobo se faja contra 12 a mi me tenian que echar encima a las estaciones de playa y pogolotti. pero habia que respetarme. y me moriria de hambre con toda seguridad, sentado en un banco del prado, mirando el morro y cagandome en el coño de la madre de todos los hijoputas. aunque siempre me quedaba la posibilidad de meterme a periodista independiente. porque eso si, nadie se atreveria a decir que no era independiente.©varela
oscar wilde
if i lived in cuba the more likely it's that i could be the best blogger in the country. i would have stolen a laptop from an public office or from lagarde's apartment. newspapers in cuba could not published my articles, but neither in miami. let me explain. over there the government could call me mercenary but over here the local press could call me seguroso. because i would be protesting against everyone and everything. and nobody could see me with a bag leaving the s.i.n.a. or calling that complaining phone line. but doesn't stay an intact window in bohemia, or granma, neither trabajadores nor juventud rebelde. and of being caught in the monserrate's house could be stealing his tobacco humidors. neither would accept guidance from anyone, nor from the government nor from the american embassy. nor could vote on one side or the other, both sides are voting in false. and if a week i invented the death of a commandant there, the other would die a commandant here. and then you would see that one coming out in a cornfield of moringa and this one in a baby sheepfold with a reservoir of oxygen with casters. and with me, hunger strikes were not working at all, nor so the avocados'. perhaps toward shows of protest to see who eats more coppelia ice cream salads without the guajiro spasm. and if to implement democracy i would be organizing a picket outside the embassy demanding to fuck no more with the embargo. and then i would write against the mules that fill cuba of false hope and human smuggling that floods the streets of miami's despair. and i could protest against cubans in the american congress and at the assembly of people's power, who apply the misery on their own people while they live better than others at the expense of the credit of the party. and of course, because is my character i would attack my other bloggers colleagues: the opposionist's and the government's. to both be dragged, the same from capitalist and commie. and the worst thing is that by doing so difficult and austere task nobody would give me a single prize: nor the s.i.p., nor the p.r.i.s.a. group, nor times magazine, nor foreign policy. and cuban police, as expected, that has proven to be quite inefficient cutting order, would have a hell of fear of me because if any dumbass fight against 12, they haave to throw over me the entire playa and pogolotti stations. but they would have to respect me. and i would die of hunger for sure, sitting on a bench in the paseo del prado, facing el morro and shitting in the mother of all motherfuckers. even though always i had the possibility to turn myself into a independent journalist. because that yes, nobody could dare to say that i was not independent.©varela
