High Fidelity...

O Fidel, I've never cried myself to sleep, but every now and again I'll laugh myself awake. There are very few moments as rehumanizing and fulfilling you know. Last night was one such occasion. Vividly hilarious dreams borne of leftovers and cheap wine. And now, seeing you so well in your red, white, and blue Adidas sports top, celebrating life in the face of death (but possibly dead anyway), makes me laugh again. A pure, rolling Wild Turkey-and-Cohiba-tinged guffaw straight from the gut. O Fidel, you live in the world of appearances and manners, and normally I might fear that you have forgotten what your REAL laugh sounds like. But this picture confirms the reverse. A toast to the theater of the absurd in life and dreams, old man. May you never live to see a Starbucks on your shores. Or a logo on your chest. Happy birthday you splendid old goat.