Fidel's Homecoming Queens, the Gonzales

In an effort to fit in, since the tail end of the 50's, Castro jumps on an Iberoamerican bandwagon project that has finally left indigenous populations of both north and south of the continent behind even if not alone. Palabras Magicas, shown at the Museum of Modern Art on Mayday, had Ingrid Bergman the 5000th as Mercedes Moncada Rodriguez send us all to hell by way of tongue for having knocked the ethnic out of Nicaragua even if Reagan made an Apology pro Contra Sui a United States experience. Within that, and among shots of cemeteries, Nicaraguan children living in slums and liking them while thinking of beating small dogs in a landscape of drowning Jacobin, American revolutionary trees, and burning reminiscences of Kennedy's Sea of Tranquility as smoldering devil's cauldrons, sexually exhausting the atmosphere to remind us of the environmental dangers of methane,
within that, I was writing, lurks a clip of a  Fidel with arms folded, yawning, and a neighboring Ortega just to remind us all that both Nair, creme hair bleaches and eventually hair dyes will die out genetically and will never ever be accepted in the revolution, let alone non.confederate or non.nazi gays, easily done, since for them, reduplicating strength mostly means a night about town, unless Darrell Issa starts mentioning a fondness for children and animals again as the opening bang for the next crusade. The Gonzales of Queens College, along with the Leon, and the Carol Anastasia have ventured forth on the same project covering all bases, in the East Village as Ru Paul fans, in Elmhurst hospital as whoever is mounting the Entire United Nations and in the subways  as Goebbels  aficionados seeing who would unclasp alms without exhibiting a nervous tic, while playing a violin.

North Korea's very own Jong Un thought he'd unleash his two cents by slamming a grateful Obama with racist slurs, an equally grateful president of South Korea with misogynist references to herself,   to finally clarify how his title of king is not a reference to Lenin's princely past that Hapsburg Jews can claim as their own terrain, finally relieved they can contract all of New York City as slaves  to fascists as the good old times, but, really, applicable as strategic famine and if not, palatial expansion of the Bourbon in the Americas, starting from plastified hamlets like Jackson Heights in New York City, where, should you need to consult a subway transfer at Roosevelt you're immediately swarmed by short people with shorter strollers, family units bitchy in Queen Sophia's Italian, and adult simulating a European background by wearing patrol officer uniforms decorated by a creative concept in digits, busy claiming their stare is looking at you and expressing verbal grunty squeals of "one", "race", and "you're it".