We want the colonels
By Varela
Sometime ago in Cuba, I saw an Italian movie featuring Ugo Tognazzi, titled “We Want the Colonels” (Vogliamo i colonnelli, 1973). It was a classic comedy with black humor and political satire that poked fun at fascism and coups d’état.
In the movie’s climax, a NATO military parade is delayed because the troops are waiting for their general, who has loose bowels and is seen sitting on a toilet bowl. The pipes are clogged, and when the officer tries to pull the chain he drops a medal into the bowl. As he tries to recover it, he slips and plunges his arm into the excrement.
All this is immediately followed by a series of clumsy mishaps that end up with the general’s white uniform, saber and decorations coated with diarrhea. With great dignity, the officer sits again on the bowl, draws his pistol and shoots himself.
Now El Nuevo Herald publishes a column, signed by Mirta Ojito, asking for a Cuban colonel who would in effect do the same, i.e., cover himself in dung and kill himself. In what may be the acme of ridiculous journalism, she calls for a most bizarre coup d’état.
Among other nonsense that seems taken from the Classified Ads, she asks that the colonel be tall, from Villa Clara (could it be to compensate for the defeat to Industriales?), a good marksman (is the author suggesting a regicide?), single, without children (is he needed to get married or to stage a coup?), with many friends (is he expected to play dominoes?), and without ambitions of leadership, because once he’s finished wiping out the government he’s expected to cede power to the civilians (an abnormal gorilla?)
The column does not mention that in Cuba civilian and military society have been fused since the beginning of the Revolution, so this colonel must turn over power to Miami politicians and influential civilians like the Diaz-Balarts, the Fanjuls, the Mases, the Saladrigas, Ileana Ros, Marco Rubio, David Rivera et al.
In essence, the column asks for a return to the past. To Batista, even. It pines for another criminal who will topple a government and put mafiosos in charge so that he can enrich himself in a luxury resort. But watch out – Ojito suggests that her man be harder than the CIA, the Mafia and eleven U.S. administrations with their gangsters from the Latin American and European barrios.
Added to the escalade of attacks against Cuba – the economic aggression, the assassination attempts, the terrorism, the media hounding – is a coup d’état, advocated by the official mouthpiece of the exiles. A newspaper that is increasingly turning into a pamphlet full of ads, with a couple of stale news, translated from English, and a column that responds to the interests of its advertisers to mesmerize the old fogies who buy it at the coffee shop.
No wonder Miami is the magic city (I’ve always liked that phrase). The best-read feature in El Nuevo used to be “La Caricatura,” but ever since I was deposed at gunpoint, following a coup against the editor, the newspaper has taken to suggest coups d’état and has moved its humor to the Classifieds section:
“For parties, dinners, marches and parades, phone Emilito and Gloria. Carlos Alberto Montaner offers an intensive course in answering letters on the Internet. For courses in patriotism and the performance of the national anthem, phone Radio Mambí. The Archdiocese of Miami gives free scholarships to pubescent boys. And Mirta Ojito is looking for a colonel who can hit a target right between the eyes.”
