and the slogan becomes a song…

I was having a little chat with some coworkers. One was saying about English importance: the treaties, the way to get in touch with the world, the advantages and, in general; all those things we’ve been always told but not so many cared. The interesting thing was what the other one said:  why English? That’s a language I won’t be submitted (and it won’t be necessary to write what else he said)

I pictured some scenarios in my head: let’s take this guy and sit him over a chair with power, let’s say he will be named a minister or a director: what kind of management would it be his? The possible answers of this question actually remove you from any doubt. It would be nefarious, just as it is Venezuela nowadays.

We’ve been living the time of free market and globalization; something opposing will hardly reach a common good. The only way a government controlled market may work is by sponsoring perceptions through alms; you see: I set up an insult, something that makes minds feel rather than understand, so perceptions get open through this sort of offensive feeling via, which also make them get eager, eager for an explanation, and the explanation comes, an archetype: there must be someone, someone evil, evil from abroad; and now I get why I’ve been poor, why wealth is a concept for frustration, then I start summarizing: what do I really want, or need? What the government gives: a box with several products so you don’t get hungry, but remember, this is not just to solve hunger, it isn’t. This is a struggle against the enemy, an enemy who imposed English and a wrong concept of wealth. I don´t know what’s wealth anymore. Wealth is what government tells, so you better start paying attention to its words, so its words become a slogan, and the slogan becomes a song…

What about now? Alms have been reduced because Oil price crumbled. Now the song is about production: what such a thing could be if you first told me I wasn´t responsible for who I’ve been? 

Now that I’m aware my ignorance was planted by the enemy… I just wait for my box of food.

Power is power, Cercei said.

Cupo

There’s a word we put in context when talking about warranty: tutelage. You see, the people, at least here in Venezuela and as figure of speech, give away their rights, so The State can manage them in order to balance (or try to) the society. Perhaps this is what Montesquieu implied; we use it that way, and I’m telling you such to make myself explained at saying when someone asks for a service, and the one who is to serve agrees, there comes an establishment of rights and an obligations (and the treat can be set just with a handshake. I heard it at law school) which gets, let’s say, sealed, by signing a paper. What’s my point? We live in a moment where a cell phone costs more than two hundred dollars, we do, but the average salary here is maybe over thirty dollars or even less than that, so; as you can see, a mobile could cost a year, a year few can have.

It wasn’t always like that. Ten years ago we flattered each other with the cupo: this sort of bonus in dollars Venezuelans used to have. And of course, everyone had a two hundred smartphone or higher. It was that way until 2012 perhaps. It doesn’t matter, the point is that it’s over, and, since people are not able to get a new phone, a whole world of repairers have emerged. It seems ok in words, but the problem is that these fixers are not certified, because there’s no such thing here. Many of them are just guys that disarm the device and replace the parts. They may not be real technicians, I mean and of course, there are no warranties…

My cell stopped working. I went to one of these tiny stores with a kind of technician to see if I can have cell phone again, otherwise I’ll have to wait several months; fewer than many because I do many things for it. I went there, they made me sign an agreement paper, they showed themselves very pro and a week went by…

I called them several times during the week and the only answer was a selection of delays; some understandable (because we are here) and some not so much. The week ended yesterday and I decided to show myself at the store. I must say it was a terrible week, you guys may feel me, because you do know the importance of the smartphone: the news, the councils, the translations, the wife, the mother and so on… once they checked my part of the paper and found my phone, a girl (and I’m keeping to myself the words I have for her, only because I consider myself a gentleman) looked at me and, wearing a gesture as she was bored because of me, she said to my face: it cannot be repaired…

This could be a joke to laugh about in any other time but, at this moment, it is a tragedy. I told her with the anger in my eyes why, why they took a week to tell me so if they could have said it days behind, she just did a pressing movement with her lips. I guess she was trying to say she didn´t know without using words…

Tutelage became a privilege. The State has removed us from any action to take. How about where you are? You will probably settle, which is accurate in this kind of cases. Here if you are violent enough you may probable hit the guys and spit on the girl’s face but I’m not that kind. I’m not even angry at them. I’m angry because there’s nothing to do but trying somewhere else to see if I get lucky this time… and this is pretty much what happens among people’s interactions…

You get convinced by getting confused…

Isn't it ironic, don't you think. Alanis sings and I thought so; the fact of living in a country where people can’t even access to their own cash, an insufficient own cash by the way, and on the other hand top manipulating skills are used as media weapon so effectively that people are actually rethinking of themselves. Maybe it’s not ironic: it is amazing.

According to an article I eyed Post-truth was named the word of the year in 2016. I read some of the explanation and I smiled (better than crying, I guess) because we’ve been living an era of post-truth minded subjection for practically twenty years. This is how politicians have been getting into people’s thoughts.

Poor were told that poverty was a consequence and that the guilt came from abroad, thus shame became pride and slogans became mantras. The taste for dressing was no longer a taste but an imposition, coming – of course – from abroad, (Yes, the enemy has to be an entity out of Venezuela. It is mandatory to justify everything this way) therefore, instead of letting people wear what they wanted and how they wanted it, just to bring up an example, the media – the official one – told people such a way were not ours, that it was an inflected idea of consuming and, that way, people actually were permitting the enemy inside… Nobody bought it at first. The argument was too hollow and of course, many could see the resentment talking rather than the bare fact. The thing begins with affordability, when access started leaving and doubts started coming: is it true? Is it really an invention of the capitalism? They have always seen us as their backyard so they send us the leftovers, and such… Questioning is a gate for perception, and if it’s open you may let a doubt in when you were trying to take some out. You get convinced by getting confused… So the truth became post-truth and a simple news hearing works like a limbo; it seems people need to actually wait until the post-truth media explains so, otherwise messages fade away like it were no news at all, and it happens, a lot, and people act like they’ve just heard a gossip; a rumor. So rumor is no rumor anymore, and it’s a shame because nowadays real rumors are gotten as forbidden info, especially if they’re against the government: it’s just post-truth to me too, just like the official information…

Best Regards