La Vida Por Peron

In Argentina, the memory of Juan Domingo Peron and his last two wives (Evita and Isabel) continues to dominate the Argentine political scene, with every possible political party calling themselves the 'true heirs' of Peron and the enactors of his legacy. Kind of like international communism in miniature (although Peron never felt it necessary to say "Yo no soy peronista").

So, who exactly are the peronists? let's see:

Current president Nestor Kirchner? He's a peronist.

Former president and ultra-neoliberal Carlos Menem? Peronist.

The Montoneros, quasi-communist guerrilla group? Also peronists.

The Triple A (Argentine Anticommuist Alliance), secret police/death squad under the military dictatorship? Peronist too.

Peron, of course, didn't call his philosophy (such as it was) 'peronism' but 'justicialism', with the focus on social justice. Essentially it entailed strengthening the labor unions, giving aid to the poor, and breaking down the social restrictions which had dominated Argentine society since it's inception.

Twenty years in exile with Franco, though, seemed to have changed his mind a bit. During his brief third presidency, Peron exhibited far more right-wing attitudes towards the economy and far harsher reproach for social dissent, which some believe paved the way for the military dictatorship that followed soon after his death.

Of course, every professor, political analyst, and cabdriver has his own views on the subject:

Professor 1: Peronism is what your parents are. Do you have parents? Then they're peronists. When you have kids you'll be a peronist too.

Professor 2: Peronism is about social justice. But, since this is Argentina, scratch the skin and we're all fascists.

Cabdriver 1: Peronism is the Boca Juniors (Argentina's most popular soccer team) of politics.

Cabdriver 2: Peronism is whatever the hell you want it to be.

Cabdriver 3: Peronism is helping the poor and the workers...all these bullshitters just call themselves peronists to win votes.

So there you have it, I guess.

Va a Estar Malo Buenos Aires

Mauricio Macri has won the election to be mayor of Buenos Aires.

His supporters - his real supporters - say that, as a businessman, he can keep the city in order. Having the son of an increibly wealthy businessman as our president didn´t work out to weel for us, but I guess the Argentines haven´t learned their lesson.

Worse than that, though, was the reaction from the supposed radicals at UBA and my Hugo Chavez-supporting host mother. Originally there were signs all over the place urging people to ´votar en blanco´; that is, use their obligatory vote to vote for nobody. One by one, though, they all squirmed and admitted they had voted for Macri.

¨But WHY??¨ I asked.

¨You know, to...uh...send Kirchner a message?¨

This is how extremist regimes come to power. People get disatisfied with moderation and send a ´Fuck You´ to the center-left by putting the ultra-right in power. Where´s the Old Mole when you need it?

At the Crossroads

Some time ago, the city planners of Buenos Aires realized that they were fast running out of presidents and generals to name their streets after. No doubt as a way to both save time and win some international goodwill, they decided to name streets after almost every country and would-be country in the world.

You can make what you will, for example, of the fact that the city zoo is located on Republic of India street, or that United States street is home to one of the city´s better (and cheaper) steakhouses. But now and then, the intersections betray a sense of irony not usually found in municipal government (the weird glowing effect is because I used a flash):



Ooh, the symbolism is just so ripe. I wonder what henpecked beaurocrat laughed himself to sleep thinking of that one.

A Bald Choice

It´s an election year here in Argentina. The president is chosen in October, but a scant week from now on June 3 all residents of Gran Buenos Aires are legally obligated to vote for their mayor, or as the job is officially called for some reason, ´Chief of Government´.

The candidates are:

Jorge Telerman, the Socialist incumbent and favorite to win. His incredibly bald head can be seen on posters all over the city. Telerman is Jewish and an ally of Argentine president Nestor Kirchner.

Daniel Filmus, secretary of education and candidate of the Front for Victory Party. Also Jewish and an ally of Kirchner. Why two allies of the president should run against each other in a non-runoff election I have no idea.

Mauricio Macri, right-wing son of the owner of Argentina´s most popular football team, Boca Juniors, and therefore richer than God. Candidate of the PRO party, which doesn´t seam to be an acronym for anything.

Among those three, Filmus is the intellectual, but his professorial beard is no match for Telerman´s sly decision to make his striking ugliness into an advantage, viz:



It says ´Telerman, the only one who has the city in his head´.

Another ad of his shows someone dropping a ballot into his cranium. Should bald jokes fail, he can always go for a little Andy Warhol action:



Of course, it´s not all smooth sailing for this guy. Telerman has his job because back in 2004 La Republica Cromagnon, a popular Buenos Aires rock club, caught fire and killed nearly 200 people. This caused such an outcry that the then-mayor Anibal Ibarra had to resign and Deputy Mayor Telerman took over. The club´s owner, Emir Chaban, happens to be Telerman´s good friend, and he has been waiting for his trail for over two years. As Jose Costillo, candidate of the Socialist Left party, told me: ¨Fantastic. We finally get cooperation between Jews and Muslims and they unite to screw us all over¨.

Of course, no matter who wins, the streets will still be filled with trash, people will drive like maniacs, and the city will shut down whenever it rains. No candidate has emerged who has been willing to deal with those things. Yet.

Jerry Falwell Smothered by His Own Jowels

and Christopher Hitchens crawls out of his pile of liquor bottles to give the most unflattering eulogy possible.

The dead reverend has only touched my life in too very minor incidents:

First, my Manhattan-dwelling cousin has a a small plush Tinky-Winky in his otherwise tastefully decorated apartment. As he told me, ¨If Fallwell says Tinky-Winky and I are both perverts, who am I to disagree?¨

Second, last December a friend of mine and I used the college radio station to present ´Merry Kitchmas´, in which we played the most tawdry holiday songs we could find. To round out the set we played the least inspired rendition of Handel´s Hallelujah Chorus ever recorded. Who was responsible for this Baroque monstrosity? Jerry Fallwell´s Old-Time Gosepl Hour Choir.