The Devil's Excrement

And today Petkoff comments on the fact that VP Rangel approved the illegal procedure at the National Assembly:

Silly Putty
parliamentary regulations by Simon Bocanegra in Tal Cual

The
statement by VP Rangel, validating the designation of a parliamentary commission
that “would evaluate” the report by the Interior Policy Commission about
Manuitt reveals that this is an order from above. Dirt has to be thrown on the
Manuitt case. Order form the boss. You can bet that that evaluating commission will
find one of two things: 1) It will declare that the report from the Interior
Policy Commission (CPI) is a piece of junk and should not be presented to the full
Assembly, with which the investigation dies; 2) extend it in time until it dies
from exhaustion and the case falls out of the political and media radar. Why
didn’t they do what the regulations say, which is to bring the report by the CPI
to the full plenary session of the Assembly, so that it decides on the matter? Obviously
because they fear that debate for the things that may be aired in it and
because Chavista institutionality is like silly putty, then they simply
liquidated it by means of abuse and arbitrarity. In this way, the possibility
of verifying if there exists or not responsibility of the Governor in the extremely
grave cases of human rights violations occurred in Guarico have been sacrificed
for cheap political reasons , in the selfish altar of party convenience. The “reasons
of Party” are above the citizens and their rights.

Humorist Laureano Marquez writes a very funny and cynical piece in today’s Tal Cual Editorial

The Sacrifices of a leader by Laureano marquez

If it was for me, I would live in a shack…nice!, no running water,
carrying my can of water from the bottom of the hill and going up in a
Jeep, with my office under a very hot sheet of zinc, dirt floor and
rope soled sandals. But because they want to kill me, I feel forced to
protect myself, to remain in this repugnant palace walking over very
expensive rugs and sleeping in air conditioned rooms…I don’t know how I
can stand it. Bathrooms with ceramic tile, hot water and expensive
porcelains. It’s so disgusting I am that close to vomiting every time I
take a shower.

I
have to move around in a car with 500 bodyguards, sacrificing the dream
of my life: To go around in a run down VW beetle without brakes, but,
because of the conspirators, I have to go around the way you see me.

Do
you think I like to go around in an armored limo in which I can stretch
my legs and even lay down for a while and take a nap, with a
refrigerator with cold water to refresh myself alter the hot contact
with you, my people, and little bottles of Evian water to wash my
hands, just in case imperialism has hired some old lady to give me a
magni-infection? No, I detest this shit, but I have to go around like
this for security. Each time I give up a piece of pork rind with hairs, I
am not thinking about bad cholesterol, but what would happen to the
people if I get a heart attack, because I imagine that you all know
that pork rind is a CIA strategy to screw our people.

I
would love to carry a Casio with a plastic band on my wrist, those that
street vendors sell batteries for in El Silencio. But since the
attempts on my life began, I have been forced to carry a Vacheron
Constantin whose precision allows me to know the exact time of a
possible attempt on my life.

Its
mechanism, sensitive to my pulse, helps my bodyguards know, at certain
times of doubt, if I am still alive. It has a mini sphere in one of the
quadrants that allows me to know the exact time in Washington D.C., where our biggest enemy lives and a pure leather band that avoids allergies or poisoning via the epidermis.

Do you think that I like these suits of high French couture? The truth? I
find them repugnant… What I feel is repulsive, those suits that have an
implacable line, the perfect adjustment to the shoulders, tight fit
around that waist that styles the figure and the wide and flirting lapel.

And let’s not talk about the silk Italian ties, so soft…

What
a pain in the b…, my friend. My dream is to go around with khaki pants
and a white t shirt. But of course. Since they want to attempt against
my life , I feel obligated to carry these expensive suits, because it
is a demand of the company that makes the bullet proof
vests, that told me: “With Monte Cristo (a local brand) it is going to
be noticeable, It’s like the gold cuff links: F….Can’t they tie these
things with string? I tell them.

No, my security advisers tell me, because those they claim they have a GPS to know my exact location in case I am kidnapped.

And let’s not talk about the food. That
is truly a sacrifice. There is nothing I like more that a plate of
pasta with ketchup and a Pepsi wetted in casaba bread and an avocado
arepa at 2 AM. But we had to hire cooks of our highest trust and those
guys don’t know how to prepare that shit, only foreign dishes, salmon
fume, entrecote, escargots.

How I miss my salads with Corona Vinegar and Vatel oil, not this shit that what it has is olives and balsamic acetto from Modena, to prevent possible poisonings.

All
of these sufferings and many others that I don’t want to tell you
about, but I prefer iif they remain forgotten, with the humility that
characterizes me, I do it for you. And I take care of my life not for
me, I am just a twig in the wind, what do I matter and the sacrifice
that I do to withstand the sacrifices I have described? Nothing! Absolutely
nothing. I resist all of these sufferings stoically for you, my people,
so that you can maintain that revolutionary lifestyle that I, sadly,
can not have.