The likes of Fidel Castro have been on the political scene for over half a century. It's time he went.
I am not superstitious by nature. I hardly believe in the forces of nature or some supernatural power that has fashioned my every turn in the guise of my fate. And I am certainly no triskaidekaphobe! So when I decided to have a book signing on October the thirteenth, I looked at it as just another Saturday. This article may, however, appeal to some supposed friggatriskaidekaphobes. To me, the day was no big deal, but for my astrologer and tarot friends, I had walked the path of Arcana! I was staring death straight in the face without a hint of the beckoning of my failure. But before I continue with my mundane existence, a lesson or two in the histrionics of politics. For those of us lucky to be freezing out privates off in the white months of the year, a hurricane means very little. But the media focus on and world attention that Katrina commanded was second only to the equally devastating chaos that Tsunami unleashed on Thailand December 2006. In the case of Katrina, help was a far cry form reality as the world waited for the world's biggest bully to stave off the blowing offensive beat of the beast. After all, they had thwarted nature in the 60s and 70s with Project Stormfurry. Maybe this was the unwitting response America could muster in the response to Castro’s rise to power in the fateful days following Miro’s resignation on February 13th, 1959. On this day in history, (100 years earlier) the 13th President of he United States of America (Millard Fillmore) was getting married. Fillmore, the “Accidental President” may not have been much of a stalwart in Castro terms, so his demise means little to us today. This was also the day that another US president (James Johnson) died. For my tarot/astrologer pals, he might have had a spiritual heart attract on the news that Castro was to be born a hundred years later. Castro, the new hurricane, was the cold wind, slow, yet swift, churning its way into the American hinterland, but like me agreeing with my bookstore, had no incline of what was in store for them. And neither did the Cubans! Born on August 13th, 1926, a few weeks after the soon to be Queen Alexandra Elizabeth II, he was seen as just another blessing onto the world. If only Henry Waechter had waited another 100 year too! His defensive tackles may have been able to stall the infidel!. At the time very insignificant and no one suspected a smelly fish! Today, almost half a century later, Castro is still in the reigns. But the writing was on the wall. Julius Caesar took the 13th Legion and crossed the rubican (a term aptly used) which eventually lead to the fall of the Roman Republic. Judas was the last (13th diner) to join Jesus at the table on what was to be “The Last Supper“. Castro had dealt the world a baker’s dozen so hid his true intentions. The Cubans are still reeling in abject poverty, running to an unwelcoming America while more embargoes tie the nation up in bolder knots. But the cobalt rich country could not see him coming! He’s here now, he’s been with us for as longs as many of us care to remember (close on 50 years), speechless for the most part of eighteen months only to write saying: “…My basic (elemental) duty is not to cling(hold on) to office, much less to obstruct the rise (path) of younger people, but to pass on experiences and ideas whose modest values arises from the exceptional era in which I lived.” - CNN (www.http://edition.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/americas/12/17/castro.letter/index.html) Perhaps he should have been more direct to say: “My subjects! Listen well and listen good. I am here to stay! I trust no one, especially Americans, and allies of America. I give them Guantanamo and see what they turned it into! I gave Russia a chance, and what did we get? Betrayal! But most of all, I don’t trust you! And what do you expect? You want me to trust the infidels? A pun, I do realise. You see I too can be funny! Ahaa! (Oughggggrr!) You see, the mere thought of them is making me choke! Now, my brother, he is a great man. Almost half as great as me. He’s a smut, I know, but with five years between us, Modesto has a lot to learn from me. When he stops dreaming (and crying) about Vilma, you may consider thinking about him. And when he’s ready, he can have you. But not before I get my deserts. I still have a lot of crumbs to offer. Modesto has fought with me, been jailed with me! He shares my dreams as he watches my back as I lay in my death bed. So don’t hold your breath! I go when I want. And the time is definitely, not now! You know I have always said I wanted to say something but never got round to saying what I wanted to say. well, I have nothing to loose now. What can America do? I am the tiger that outlives them all! They think I am Hussein! The man was a good 6 years later than Raul! Let Elizabeth try me, all be it in the mask of Brown and Blair. I am the monster that blows from the Atlantic, the menace to the organisation of everything American. But let me stop now, all this thinking is making me tired. But don’t you go celebrating yet. I still have a good thirty-one years to live, maybe more. But like I said at the beginning, I do not believe in the unlucky number thirteen. It is an honour, to some dim-witted American youth, with very little hope or prospect, to have a thirteen-gun salute after being shot dead in the deserts of Iraq or Afghanistan. Diana may have died on kissing the thirteenth pillar, but at least, look on the bright side, since the incident, the press has had to take a self-regulatory check on themselves, kind of like looking in the mirror. When you place 31 in front of a mirror, what do you see?, A number that does look like 13. But don’t harp on that, on the very same day the world was cursed with Fidel Castro, another darling was bestowed on to the earth: barbie. So while we hang on to hope, caressing a lifeless barbie doll and waiting for Castro to leave, join us in condemning his contemporaries, who have likewise, refused to go. Contempoaries like Museveni, Gaddafi, Mbasogo and Elizabeth II. Ask them to leave. Vote them out!