Saturday, January 31, 2004

Fidel Once More
So El Caballo is at it again.

(Yes, that's "the horse". It was a nickname given to him in admiration, believe it or not. We latins do strange things like that from time to time).

No, I gotta tell you, I don't believe in any plots. Not because I think the American government wouldn't do it, but because it seems to me that, in the big picture being painted by the crew in Washington, Fidel is not even a speck left over by a fly splattering on their windshield. Even if you are paranoid enough to think they would do it to buy votes, there aren't enough here to justify an invasion--and boy, if there's one thing they know how to do is to calculate political odds.

What's happening is very simple: all his life, Fidel has seen himself as a lion killer. His monster ego never doubted that he would be the one who would bring down the American behemoth. Now, as he ages, he sees himself being relegated to the footnote section of history. His opinions are more and more irrelevant even among those who still profess themselves his friends; those who seek him do it from their own political needs, not because he is the elder statesman. He wanted to be the communist Churchill and he has become a nonentity. His legacy will be to have destroyed a one vibrant country.

If he dies in bed, he dies a failure, and he knows it. Getting invaded by the Americans would vindicate him.

Monday, January 26, 2004

Yoga With Cat
I've started a beginner's yoga practice. Beginner being the operative word. All those poses that were so easy twenty years ago feel as if I were trying to push my spine out of my skin at a level somewhere between my shoulder blades and the end of my skull. It's lowering to think I could do a full plow from a slow leg raise, but can barely reach my chest to my thighs these days. Still, I am amazed and grateful that after more than a decade of not doing yoga my body seems to remember the positions.

Patience, grasshopper....

The problem, other than trying not to overdo and really hurt myself is that Lost and Found thinks it's all a wonderful game. If I stand on tree pose, he strops around the supporting foot; if I try a cobra pose, he jumps on the small of my back. The sun exercise gives him immense pleasure, because there are several moments when he can try to make me land on my face; downward dog makes him purr as he swishes in and out of my arms and legs.

And if I try to lock him out of the room he stands by the door and cries. I swear to God. This cat can imitate a crying baby just enough to bring out my long dormant maternal instincts. He does it on purpose, of course. Just to show me who's boss.

Sunday, January 25, 2004

The Morality of the Moral Ones
Throughout the Clinton impeachment crisis, we were told that when it came to morality there was no middle ground, no gray areas, and no flexibility. Trying to make a distinction between the person and the office was de facto immoral. It was all immoral, and, by God, Republicans were going to straighten us out.

Now it turns out that it does depend on what the meaning of is is:

It is ok to promote yourself as a morality guru even you gamble away half your fortune because, after all, the money is yours.

It is ok to out a CIA agent, because, after all, you didn't know she was undercover.

It is ok to use drugs because, after all, you didn't hurt anyone but yourself.

It is ok to steal computer files, because, after all, they were not secured.

It is ok to claim that the President and his men did not mislead the nation about the nature of Iraq's threat to the United States because, after all, you didn't use the word imminent.

All I can say is, thanks for straightening us out, guys.