Rubbed the Wrong Way

There’s a well-known anecdote about British actor, comedian and writer David Garrick (1717-1779) and a visit to his doctor, where he complained about suffering from a terrible depression.

“Relax,” said the doctor. “To lower your stress, go to one of Garrick’s shows; he’ll make you laugh a bit.”

“Thanks,” he replied, “but there’s an inescapable problem with that: I am Garrick.”

Venezuelan media outlet Radio Fe y Alegría has just reported that the country’s rates of stress, depression and anguish are higher than ever this fall. One can only wonder why this is the case, given everything is going so swimmingly.

We’ve had enough of all these commissions. These commissions, in turn, appoint subcommissions, which name committees, which break out into subcommittees to decide which parties can form the groups that select candidates to fill salaried positions that (deep breath) decide which individuals can undertake informed decision-making to start the process of making the necessary changes to ensure everything stays exactly as is.

You don’t need to pay anyone when the evidence is so clear. It’s also worth noting that as part of these discussions, which do nothing more than delay proceedings, a new theme has been introduced: backtracking.

When it’s Friday, for example, and someone says they’ll continue a discussion on Monday, they don’t mean next Monday but the previous one; in other words, they’re going backwards, something no one would think to call into question.

But let’s be sensible. It’s not possible for everyone to convene at the same time. We have to establish some sort of order. Let’s call this the pecking order. Clearly, our neighbors to the north are undergoing a real-world example of this.

The first to blow their own trumpet (and we know there’s nothing quite like blowing your own trumpet) was Donald Trump. Initially, he claimed that the extraction of Venezuela’s former president, Nicolás Maduro, was “so complex ... but [was] amazing”; then, in another moment of self-appreciation, he described his dealings in Venezuela as excellent (for whom?) and asserted that our country is swimming in a sea of money.

Perhaps he was conflating us with Mar del Plata [literally “sea of silver” — plata is also Spanish slang for money], which is a little further to the south. In any event, his actions seem to resemble confusion more than Confucius.

He confused Greenland with Iceland during a speech at the World Economic Forum in Switzerland. Then he confused Iran with Japan, referring to the “Islamic Republic of Japan” (if there’s any country with a less-than-favorable view of Islam, it’s Japan). Yet as we say in Venezuela, culture is passed on through the mother’s breast. Now we have this teacher at the helm. What does this say about our education levels?

With Marco Rubio, the situation worsens still. When asked if politician María Corina Machado would return home, he stated that she was Venezuelan and could return home when she wanted to. What rhetorical device is he using here? Irony? Hypocrisy? If he’s using the latter to create the former, this is an obvious stereotype. Is it A, B, C or D? Is everyone trying to play a game of “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire”?

Yet when Trump candidly asserted that Venezuela was still not ready for elections, did he think that we were pale like a child under moonlight, or green like an unripe mango? We Venezuelans, the majority of us, feel like a cat that’s been rubbed the wrong way.

This isn’t as simple as milking a cow; it takes a truly incredible talent to generate so much annoyance in a populace that is on the brink of a social schism.