Let's face it: America's down in the dumps. We just can't do anything right these days: can't pay the bills, can't keep our weight in check, can't lick our dependence on foreign oil, can't defeat the insurgents in Iraq, can't even ride a bike without doping it up. It's no wonder we've developed the kind of negative self-image that - if we were a teenage girl - would lead to lots of black lipstick and a mutually destructive relationship with the goateed, 20-year-old Junior from Pre-Algebra.
All the more reason to celebrate our successes. Like this week, when we toppled Castro.
After forty-plus years of embargo, travel restrictions and exploding cigars, the Tony Robbins of international communism has finally cracked. Just like 1959, it was a revolution within - specifically the intestines. But don't kid yourselves, American pressure helped make it happen. Kudos to the US presidents, living and dead (but mostly dead) who stood tall against Fidel. And a big salute to the Cuban- American exile community as well; I didn't agree with you on little Elian (I was afraid if he stayed here, he'd end up at Neverland) but it's good to see something go your way for once.
This is a lesson, I think, that we all need to be a bit less short-sighted and impatient when judging the effectiveness of our nation's foreign policy. Maybe in 2053, when Kim Jong Il turns things over to his brother Randy, we'll feel a lot better about the events of this year.
But for now, let's mambo. The pride is back. It'll be mourning in Cuba soon, and morning in America again.
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