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Where's Ortega?

Waldo with cane

Has anyone seen Nicaraguan president Daniel Ortega recently? Why, no. In fact, not only has the ersatz strongman been conspicuously absent for nearly two weeks, but it's been radio silence from the office of the president, the president's inner circle, and the Nicaraguan government as a whole.

That's good news, because it means Daniel Ortega might finally be ready to shuffle off this mortal coil, the only way we'll ever be rid of the mustachioed bastard given his recent changes to the constitution. But that's bad news too, because no government is a problem.

I'm amazed they decided "total silence" would be a good strategy. It only lets the rumor mill churn. Let's say he's only buggered off to Cuba to have his hemorrhoids lasered. No big deal, right? Silence lets people speculate. Like this piece from Costa Rica, which thinks Ortega is already dead and trying to explain away his sins at the gates of hell. Back on home soil, here's what the Nicaraguan press has to say about it..

Let's face it, this isn't just hemorrhoids. Ortega missed a couple of big ticket, stupid events he'd normally have shown up for in hat and tie, like an obsequious paean to fellow Latino Dorkwads Correa and Maduro.

We learn three things from this:

  1. Sometimes, when you rejigger the constitution so you can rule until your death, death wins and you've only bought yourself another month or two.
  2. Your sycophants, thinking "Oh noes, the people will be desperately sad if their leader perishes!" are probably misguided. If they had their heads anywhere except the interior of their asses, they'd probably notice the bulk of the downtrodden are hoping their fearless leader perishes on the operating table.
  3. No matter what the real issue is, choosing a strategy of total silence not only worsens the situation, but shows you had no better plan for dealing with it. What happens if they look down your dress and see only incompetence? It means incompetent is what you are.

Update, 5 March: Dammit, it was hemorrhoids (or equivalent). Heart trouble, maybe? Who cares, if the result is the same: Tío Estúpido remains alive, dammit.

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