Why, oh why do we not appreciate the saviors who walk among us?
His brown eye is exceedingly kindly and gentle. A child would like to sit in his lap and a dog would sidle up to him.
Know who Ambassador Joseph Davies is describing there? That little passage from 1940 -- infamous today -- "describes" Joseph Stalin, of course. How could you have missed that?
Now, before you go thinking that Ambassador Davies was just covering for a figure of the international ruling class of which he himself was a junior member, you should be aware that artists admired Stalin as well. Here's singer Paul Robeson, on the occasion of Stalin's death:
Yes, through his deep humanity, by his wise understanding, he leaves us a rich and monumental heritage. Most importantly - he has charted the direction of our present and future struggles. He has pointed the way to peace - to friendly co-existence - to the exchange of mutual scientific and cultural contributions - to the end of war and destruction. How consistently, how patiently, he labored for peace and ever increasing abundance, with what deep kindliness and wisdom. He leaves tens of millions all over the earth bowed in heart-aching grief.
And intellectual W.E.B. DuBois:
Joseph Stalin was a great man; few other men of the 20th century approach his stature. He was simple, calm and courageous. He seldom lost his poise; pondered his problems slowly, made his decisions clearly and firmly; never yielded to ostentation nor coyly refrained from holding his rightful place with dignity. He was the son of a serf but stood calmly before the great without hesitation or nerves. But also - and this was the highest proof of his greatness - he knew the common man, felt his problems, followed his fate.
Stalin was not a man of conventional learning; he was much more than that: he was a man who thought deeply, read understandingly and listened to wisdom, no matter whence it came. He was attacked and slandered as few men of power have been; yet he seldom lost his courtesy and balance; nor did he let attack drive him from his convictions nor induce him to surrender positions which he knew were correct. As one of the despised minorities of man, he first set Russia on the road to conquer race prejudice and make one nation out of its 140 groups without destroying their individuality.
Don't you just wish, more than anything, that we had a Stalin today? And that we had men willing to take pen in hand and note his greatness?
Ah, but fret not, friend: we do. For in the land of sugar and cigars we have the Comandante, Fidel Castro! Let's hear, first, from Alexandre Trudeau, son of the former prime minister of Canada:
I grew up knowing that Fidel Castro had a special place among my family's friends. We had a picture of him at home: a great big man with a beard who wore military fatigues and held my baby brother Michel in his arms. When he met my little brother in 1976, he even gave him a nickname that would stick with him his whole life: "Micha-Miche."A few years later, when Michel was around 8 years old, I remember him complaining to my mother that my older brother and I both had more friends than he did. My mother told him that, unlike us, he had the greatest friend of all: he had Fidel.
Wow, Fidel is the greatest friend of all? Frankly, I think a whiner like Michael doesn't deserve a friend like this:
His intellect is one of the most broad and complete that can be found. He is an expert on genetics, on automobile combustion engines, on stock markets. On everything.Combined with a Herculean physique and extraordinary personal courage, this monumental intellect makes Fidel the giant that he is.
He is something of a superman. My father once told us how he had expressed to Fidel his desire to do some diving in Cuba. Fidel took him to the most enchanting spot on the island and set him up with equipment and a tank. He stood back as my father geared up and began to dive alone.
When my father had reached a depth of around 60 feet, he realized that Fidel was down there with him, that he had descended without a tank and that there he was with a knife in hand prying sea urchins off the ocean floor, grinning.
Back on the surface, they feasted on the raw sea urchins, seasoned with lime juice.
Nothing but credibility in that passage, eh? I'm sure I believe it all, and I'm impressed.
Maybe, just maybe, the spirit of Stalin lives on in Fidel, for we have testimony from the arts in Fidel's behalf, this time from Gabriel Garcia Marquez:
HIS devotion to the word. His power of seduction. He goes to seek out problems where they are. The impetus of inspiration is very much part of his style. Books reflect the breadth of his tastes very well. He stopped smoking to have the moral authority to combat tobacco addiction. He likes to prepare food recipes with a kind of scientific fervor. He keeps himself in excellent physical condition with various hours of gymnastics daily and frequent swimming. Invincible patience. Ironclad discipline. The force of his imagination stretches him to the unforeseen. As important as learning to work is to learn how to rest.
You want to know more, don't you, now that Fidel is 80 and recovering from surgery and perhaps not long for this world?
He requires the aid of incessant information, well masticated and digested. His task of informative accumulation is a priority from the moment that he wakes up. He breakfasts with no less than 200 pages of news of the entire world. During the day he is sent urgent news wherever he is; he calculates that he has to read some 500 documents, to which one has to add reports from the official services and from his visitors and anything that might interest his infinite curiosity.Responses have to be exact, given that he is capable of discovering the most minimal contradiction in a casual phrase. Another source of vital information is books. He is a voracious reader. Nobody can explain how he finds the time or what method he uses to read so much and with such rapidity, although he insists that he doesn’t have any special ones. On many occasion he has taken away a book in the early hours and by the morning is commenting on it. He reads in English but does not speak it. He prefers to read in Spanish and is prepared to read a paper that comes into his hands at any hour. He is a good reader of literature and follows it with attention.
Hmmm...hours of gymnastics every day, plus 200 pages of news and 500 other documents, plus swimming. Amazing.
Of course, Fidel is a politician, so, since he doesn't have to worry about working for a living, perhaps he does manage to squueze all of that into one day. But I'm not sure that has occurred to Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
So it appears that we have, perhaps, a reincarnation of Joseph Stalin. And, perhaps, of Walter Duranty. Here's more from Alexandre Trudeau:
Without a doubt, Cuba without Castro will not remain unchanged.But Cubans will continue to be subjected to Castro's influence. Whether they like it or not, they will continue to be called out by his voice, by his questions, by his inescapable rationality, which, whether they heed its call or not, demands they defend the integrity of Cuba and urges them to seek justice and excellence in all things.
For a generation to come, they will be haunted by the vision of a society that never existed and probably never will exist, but which their once-leader, the most brilliant and obsessed of all, never stopped believing could exist and should exist.
Cubans will always feel privileged that they, and they alone, had Fidel.
I urge you to check out each of the links. You'll want a bucket.
It needs to be said: Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Alexandre Trudeau, you are sycophantic pieces of shit.
Well, according to the FEMA experts at floodsmart.gov, the flood risk on my patch of west El Paso is moderate to low.
Someone needs to inform Alexandra, who took these flood photos, all of them within twenty yards of the house.
I guess Brownie is still doing a heckuva job.