Monday, February 24, 2014
There is a cold northwest wind blowing across these barren plains this morning. A grey blanket of cloud cover has given everything the opalescent tint of a dream…
And what a glorious dream!
One full of headline News blocks that make my heart palpitate and my legs vibrate. Olympic News coverage (which I’ve suffered through for the past few weeks) does that for me as well, I suppose. But for entirely different and utterly wrong reasons… The type that make the cortex shut down and the reptilian brain take over.
No!… that period has passed, let us think of it no longer my friends…
I find myself today, sitting here at this wretched computer, thinking of the “Three Amigo’s” get together that was glazed over by the News outlets in favour of… those goddamn Olympics!…
What a nickname for a political summit. To name it after a Chevy Chase movie is perhaps the worst association a group of politicians could possibly hope for.
It’s not hard to picture these heads of state seated around a giant round table, with a bucket full of ice and corona’s, and a platter full of molta and molly’s in the middle of it. Ol’ Harper and Pena Nieto fucking with Obama by suddenly speaking Spanish and French, but not the textbook, foto op type, but rather, the gritty street slang that makes no sense to the uninitiated listener… they’ll be smoking big cigars, and playing a three man game of Chivas Regal pong… the losers will have to do a line of ‘Grade A’ Mexican Crank off of the winner’s swollen, chaffed,,, member.
SE cayo el sistema (the system fell down)
One would have to assume that there were more back-room, back-door deals done; because, to the few of us that paid attention to the NALS instead of… those goddamn Olympics… there was little actually said or done in front of the cameras… it looked more like a family reunion, one where nobody really wanted to be at. Polite smiles and handshakes (made easier by mouthfuls of molly, meth, and mescal) and a passive aggressive avoidance of divisive topics.
The politico’s were there merely as a context, as the mascots, for this brogue and pinstripe and sombrero wearing corporate scratch ’n jerk. This thing is nothing more than a yearly meeting of big time international companies for the purposes of fleshing out their joint mission statement for the next year. A union of CEO’s there to lean on the “three amigo’s” to get with the program, to jump on the path to pesos…
It’s how this whole thing got started, back in 2005. 30 CEO’s and 3 heads of state. I’m guessing social and philanthropic issues were not allotted much time in the agenda.
Much like it is now…
This year featured dialogue on the TPP (Trans-pacific Partnership). It was one of the few topics which included all three amigo’s, and one that they actually agreed on.
A get-rich-quick pyramid scheme that put’s the Three Amigo’s at the top if they enter into it as a unified front.
…Well, given the players, I guess it’s more of a fraternity.
I have yet to read anything that involved talks of initiatives to improve social structures, constituent representation issues, or sustainable land management issues.
Economic opportunity issues on the other hand…
But, what more could be expected from something that was the hatched by a brain trust with a 10:1 ratio of corporate representatives to government officials. Waco, Texas was a stag ranch for the Amigo’s. They were the John’s and the corporate rep’s were the whores.
The annual meeting has only become increasingly perverse and decadent over time… A table filled with molta and molly’s and meth, and mescal and money and ice cold Corona’s and Sol…
Hollow talk, and high stakes Olympic betting.
To be a politician in the business of politics is the best gig a person can get.
Back scratches and blowjobs traded for bukaki and bags of pesos.
SE cayo el sistema (the system fell down).