Some of the most gratifying and rewarding perks of living in Miami are the rich community traditions that have evolved with the development of the city, like grandiose celebrations of different countries' national independence day, staying away from the beach on Memorial Day, or dressing like tremenda puta ratchetera on Halloween. Pero sin pena, I have to admit that my favorite of all Miami traditions is one that, sadly, is only thoroughly enjoyed by one segment of our population.
If you're Cuban, it has become almost a given that celebrations of everything from a protest to a government sponsored kidnapping to an NBA Championship celebration be held on the streets of Hialeah and Southwest Miami-Dade. More specifically, by Taco Bell in Hialeah and on Bird Road in front of La Carreta. This tradition is so deeply rooted in the Cuban community that even the unsubstantiated rumor of the death of el muy malparido de Fidel Castro prompted a Cuban celebration in 2007.
Today I woke up to three pressing concerns:
1. Tremendo fucking hangover from el descaro y puteria that began on New Years Eve,
2. Un par de gordas cariñosas con tremendo hambre, and
3. News that Venezuelan "President" Hugo Chavez was on his deathbed.
As a proud 305 Cubanaso, I consider it my god-given right to cagarme en la hora que nacio any communist mama tranca that has any power in the world, and I hold that right dear to my heart. With the impending death of Chavez, there's the added satisfaction that he's a piece of shit Castro sympathizer, a supporter of the guerrilla faction trying to overthrow the Colombian government, and most importantly, extremely vocal in his anti-American sentiments. Because of this, I feel that the Cuban exile community and anti-Chavez Venezuelans have a kinship that bonds us in both our struggle and culture.
Admittedly, I have a bias, because my love for Venezuelans began long ago when I first heard legendary Cuban singer Roberto Torres immortalize a traditional Venezuelan folk song with his rendition of "Caballo Viejo." That love was fortified last month when I realized I was completely incapable of ridiculing Miss Venezuela for her completely incoherent response during the Miss Universe contest this year porque me paro la morronga so efficiently.
Miami has a very large and significant Venezuelan population, and I feel it is time that Cubans share the joy and revelry that comes from being tremendo breteros on the street with our Venezuelan brothers and sisters. This is why I am calling on all Venezuelans (and Cubans) to join me in starting a new "casuela y cuchara" tradition, centered in one of Miami-Dade's densest Venezuelan areas: Doral. I propose that upon the official announcement of Hugo Chavez's death, all Venezualans within a 30 mile radius make their way to NW 87th Avenue in front of Hooters and celebrate this singao's death with pots, pans, flags, convertibles, chongas, pata sucias, puteria, and all the other wonderful things that come with la chusmeria Miami Cubans have enjoyed for so long! What better way to cagarte en la rinsigada madre de un Comunista singao than to eat alitas, stare at pechugonas and hit on hot-ass Venezuelan girls drunk in joy at the liberation (of sorts) of their homeland? That sounds like makings of tremendo tradition to me, pipo!
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