It’s Friday again!
And aren’t you happy that while yesterday we were melting under the scorching maladies of our pagan god, the sun, today we left our homes wearing only a t-shirt and ended up freezing our asses off?
Ah, the many mood swings of Mother Nature, influenced by her shady boyfriend, Climate Change. You think this is bad? Wait until February. Then you’ll really regret moving to this country.
Anyway, this whole intro has been small talk about the weather. It’s like being stuck with me in a really long elevator ride, isn’t it? I guess there’s nothing left to talk about between us.
Sad when a relationship reaches that point, isn’t it?
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We begin with the first journalism fuck up of 2013 (well, at least the first big, big, journalism fuck up) which involves Spanish newspaper El País and an infamous non-photo of an ailing non-Hugo Chávez on the operating table. As we all know, Venezuelan president Hugo Chávez is battling cancer in Cuba (and if you didn’t know, put down the Xbox and grab a newspaper, you douche). His treatment and current condition has been mostly kept under wraps with all sorts of rumors flooding the Twittersphere. Is he dead? Is he alive? Is he un-dead? Are we all dead, like in Lost? So considering how much relevance and influence El País has on a global scale (think of it as the New York Times of the Spanish language), the world responded with rightful indignation at a front page splashed with a giant photo of some Chávez-looking dude being intubated. The never-resting internet elves, who I don’t know how but always manage to find everything on the web, soon realized the low-res photo was a screen capture from some random 2008 You Tube video and all hell broke loose. A new nail on the coffin of journalism, which by now already has like a million nails on it and has been buried six feet under since 2000.
noticed a tendency to humanize them. To show the psychological residues that constantly burden a tormented mind under a latex mask. Batman, Superman, Spider-man, Hulk, they have all returned to the big screen in the embodiment of an anti-hero who leads a life of loneliness because society doesn’t understand that they are not spandex-wearing weirdos with daddy issues. And while in real life the US has Phoenix Jones, Argentina has Menganno. A superhero of sorts, Menganno patrols the streets of Lanús, in the Greater Buenos Aires area and has become a friend of the children and grandmas looking to cross the street. Menganno proudly assures his only weapons are a police baton and some pepper spray because he doesn’t believe in using firearms. So sweet and naive, this guy. Life was swell for Menganno and his wife, until this week some arch-villains (aka car robbers) decided to ambush him while he was parking outside of his house. Menganno resolved he wasn’t going to take any of that funny business and after careful deliberation chose to put his no-weapon philosophy on hold and shoot the robbers 14 fucking times with the assault weapon he was carrying in his glove compartment. After the police and the media showed up, Menganno admitted shame in using a gun to scare off the robbers and then cried as he confessed he was “fearful” they would seek revenge, which for a superhero is kind of lame. But his plight didn’t end there, since as it turns out his gun permit was expired and he was not allowed to carry his weapon. He is now under investigation for illegal possession of firearms and could go to jail anytime soon. The robbers, in the meantime, are planning their next move to take over the world via some contrived scheme of ridiculous, yet effective, proportions. An excellent metaphor for the times we’re living in, people. Being the villain always pays.
Have a great weekend, everyone!
Send Adrian your comments, thoughts or tips at [email protected] or follow him on Twitter at @AdrianBono
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