Muerto Monday!

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
By the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead

It's been fascinating to see varied local reactions to the tyrant-is-finally-dead gatherings, being as it is unclear to what extent non-Cubans should appropriately dance on the despot's grave in public, or whether it's best to just clear the lane, be supportive and let folks with real skin in the game outpour real emotion (scrubbing those four-days-later Facebook photos at Versailles off your feed in the process).

Or maybe you could be a genuine part of it all and just not tell everyone about it?

Wait -- this is Miami.

Turns out there is no "too much" as far as this is concerned, except for Little Marco:
“Rubio discredits himself,” said Gross, who lost 100 pounds and many of his teeth while imprisoned. “He did not have the Cuban experience that he claims to have had. He has not sacrificed anything because of Fidel Castro and neither did his family. I did. I had the Cuban American experience. And I’m not even Cuban. So I can speak with some level of credibility.”
But Rubio is riding the exile train all the way to the White House, so let him stoke those emotional engines just like Rubio's buddy Lyin' Ted to the point that all rationality and logic fly out the window.

It's almost 2017, and we seem to be completely unshackled from whatever moors used to keep us loosely tethered to the same general shared reality.  We see that in manufactured controversy over everything as big as a horrible dictator's long-overdue death, or as small as who won the Presidential election.

Things always look weird (or just plain flat out wrong) from the other side.

(God I'm prattling on like an idiot)

Changes coming next year.
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