Jorge Ramos, ironías de la vida

por L. Alberto Rodríguez 

Recuerdo cuando al ex beisbolista venezolano Ozzie Guilén se le atacó en Estados Unidos por decir que admiraba a la Revolución cubana. Entonces el presentador de televisión de origen mexicano y  radicado en Miami Jorge Ramos Ávalos aprovechó para publicar uno más de sus textos contra Fidel y Raúl Castro: Dijo: “Su sangrienta dictadura de 53 años se ha caracterizado por la represión, la falta de libertad y la absoluta ausencia de democracia multipartidista”. 

Más fresco tengo el recuerdo cuando Ramos recibió un premio de la revista TIME. Ahí el presentador atacó a Nicolás Maduro, y con un trago de vino en la mesa, brindó por los “presos políticos” en Venezuela que tienen “como crimen denunciar el abuso de poder, la corrupción y la falta de democracia del régimen”.

Ironías de la vida. Ramos echado y mandado callar en su propio país de residencia, y sobre el cual pregona las “libertades democráticas” que -dice- no hay en Cuba o Venezuela. 

Probablemente esto le haga pensar también en Mumia Abu jamal, periodista, presidente de la Asociación de Periodistas Negros de Filadelfia e integrante del Partido Panteras Negras, quien fue condenado a muerte y posteriormente a cadena perpetua por las leyes estadounidenses en 1982 por un delito que no cometió. Sería bueno que Ramos lo mencionara de ahora en adelante en sus columnas, por si quiere ir a verlo a la cárcel en Pennsylvania en la cual está preso. 

O quizá sobre Oscar López Rivera, condenado en 1981 a 55 años de cárcel acusado de “terrorismo” y “conspiración” contra el gobierno de Estados Unidos por pedir la independencia de Puerto Rico. Si Jorge Ramos clama tanto por el venezolano Leopoldo López, con el caso del independentista puertorriqueño se va a volver loco de la emoción. Hasta es probable que lo veamos brindado por su libertad, ya no con una copa de vino, sino con toda una garrafa de coquito boricua.

Ya que si no le conviene esto y pretende seguir callando como hasta ahora sobre los casos de criminalización contra Julian Assange y Edward Snwden, Ramos bien puede escoger entre cualquiera de los 157 presos político que tiene el gobierno estadounidnese, según la National Jericho Movement y la Social Movement Prisoners. Sí, porque, criticar al presidente mexicano Enrique Peña Nieto desde su sillón en Miami, lo hace hasta mi amiga Rosita, dueña del mejor pan con puerco de South Beach y el East miamero

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John Oliver loves pointing out how bad you are at geography

On March 5, 2013, fourteen years after leading his so-called Bolivarian Revolution to power, President Hugo Chavez of Venezuela died, leaving behind an orphaned political movement. As Chavez’s former Minister of Foreign Affairs Nicolás Maduro ascended to the presidency, Chavez’s supporters vowed to preserve Chavez’s legacy. But what exactly is that legacy?

That is the question Reportage photographer Alejandro Cegarra tried to answer as he documented the social, political and economic conditions that led Venezuela to its current state of turmoil, with high inflation, spike in violence, and shortage of basic goods.

“Venezuela is trapped between its past and future,” Cegarra says. He added that, as someone living in Caracas, Chavez’s influence “was something that … was touching me, personally.” He says undertook this project to examine “what his legacy was and what he left for me.”

A selection of Alejandro’s work will be exhibited at this year’s Visa pour l’Image festival in Perpignan, France, starting next week. Four other Getty Images photographers will also have exhibitions: Edouard Elias, Lynsey Addario, Daniel Berehulak, and Omar Havana. Read More.  

En pico de zamuro.

Translation: In the vulture’s beak, meaning something has almost no chance of happening.

Example: It’s 10pm and I still haven’t heard from César. I think our plans of going to the club are in the vulture’s beak.

Note: Something having no chance of happening in the vulture’s beak is because there’s no chance of escaping being eaten!

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This is a real thing that is happening and I can’t believe my eyes. 

Also are you sure you treated them safely when… the news passed a testimony of a man being pushed with his family out of the house and forced into a truck… with no time to collect things or anything to… be able to start anew?

Like, what the fuck is up with you Maduro?

Thoughts

You know what? I’m annoyed I’m done with this! I can’t believe what is happening in between my country and Venezuela. People is dying! Conditions in Cucuta (Colombia) and also in Tachira (venezuela) are pretty sad, families that are deported had to sleep on the street and they don’t have food,money or a proper place to pass the night . Colombians are dying, Venezuela is suffering , families are broken. Children of Colombian parents has to stay in Venezuela while their parents, deported now, had to come back, all the Colombian houses are demolished, people is in the jail and they are trying to declare a war to distract people from Venezuelan inner crisis! And there are lies WE ARE NOT paramilitars, terrorist or a danger! Even Colombian people who live in Caracas has to come back! Today Colombian ambassador in Venezuela and Venezuelan ambassador in Colombia were called back! This is sad I just want to say that I’m with all my Colombian fellows that I’m praying for all of them an also for all the Venezuelan people that things will be better soon .
Thank you for reading

Por ser de un pais que tiene un guerra interna con las guerrillas, paramilitares, carteles y bandas criminales le tengo pavor y rechazo cualquier tipo de violencia pero si yo fuera presidente de Colombia ya hubiera levantado a plomo a ese ejercito y gobierno autoritario de Maduro.

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Analizando la tragedia de los deportados en Colombia

Querida Venezuela

No saben lo mucho que lamento que tengan que tener un presidente como Maduro, yo lo se porque tengo que tener un presidente como Santos que de presencia, autoridad y buena voluntad tiene muy poco. Pero no todos los colombianos somos paramilitares, ladrones o narcotraficantes; muchos de los miles de colombianos que hoy están sacando como perros de su país se dedicaban a trabajos honrados y tenían vidas humildes. Imagínate sacar tu cama por un río, una trocha, hacia un lugar donde no tienes nada porque un ignorante decide tumbar tu casa, que con tanto esfuerzo construiste. De cualquier manera siempre son bienvenidos en Colombia, porque nosotros conocemos la amabilidad y la piedad que su presidente no posee. Con cariño y profundo dolor desde Colombia.

When I was little, my whole fam lived in Venezuela, which was hard because we didn’t speak Spanish very well yet. I was four years old at the time. Anyways, we had this very straight faced, emotionless maid named Carla working for us. She always did a splendid job cleaning for us without speaking much because of the language barrier between us. So one day she comes up to my mom and says “cuaima… baño”, completely without emotion, and my mom doesn’t understand so she just laughs and goes “ok, sí, gracias” and continues on with her day. Well Carla comes up and says “cuaima” again to my mom the next day, and the next, and continues once a day for a week and a half. My mom is finally like, this must be pretty important if she keeps bringing it up, and grabs a dictionary and looks up the word ‘cuaima’. Well cuaima is defined as a very poisonous snake in Venezuela, so my mom freaks out and runs up to Carla like “DONDE ESTÁ LA CUAIMA”. Carla calmly walks over to the toilet and just points, and sure enough, a big black snake pops it’s head out of our toilet every couple minutes. So my mom and dad are like “what the heck do we do”, and devise a plan that they’re just going to pour some Drain-o down the toilet, and wait with an axe until something happens. This is really exciting stuff so of course me and my sisters gathered around to watch. So my dad pours the Drain-o, and about ten seconds later, this giant snake springs out the toilet and is furiously writhing all over our bathroom floor. So creepy. My dad swings the axe and chops the snakes head clean off and leaves a giant dent in our bathroom floor. Then Carla snatched the axe from him and chops the snake into, I’m not exaggerating, fifty different pieces. Our bathroom is covered in snake guts and blood. But, anyways, the point of this story is, after this happened I couldn’t use the bathroom alone until I was ten, and I didn’t conquer my fear of actually sitting on a toilet seat until I was thirteen.