The order sounded something like "find me the PR faculty in this rural shithole".
The logic behind it was that back in my country which is Romania, "PR" is an extension of business school where the sluts go. You can't even imagine this thing if you've never seen it, suffice it to say it's more or less what Hugh Hefner spent his whole life trying to build and in the end never managed. No bipedal life form there present would, in the depths of winters twenty below, sport a cleavage above the end of her sternum ; nor for all the jewels of India go around on stilts under four inches. And other things.
So I wanted to see how the local sluts measure up to the Romanian sluts, what. It makes sense, dunnit ?
Characteristically, and forebodingly, the request returned fish tails, which is to say... multiple possible hits. Holy hell, what ?!
And then the cruel reality of living in an overgrown village which for reasons incomprehensible holds itself to townhood struck. What sluts ? What compare ? Not even on the same planet, this is the world of the hooded apes. It shows.
But anyway, since I took the trouble of going to the sticks (characteristically, and forebodingly, they placed the thing in the ghetto), here's pictures :
You probably notice something familiar, which is to say the bums huddled around recycled matter. Turns out, in #whocouldhavepredicted, that the only difference between "architecture" school and "ciencias sociales" school in their retargentine implementation is the exact usage of paper scraps. The "arquitectos" make complex mounds with glue and other debris, whereas teh "social cientists" color them and hang them on every available space.
I'm not kidding or anything, every single available spot was covered with posters, no doubt imaginatively meaningful, important, impactante etcetera. The products of the intellectual metabolism of an ever so slightly different kind of monkey.
That's the exam sheet for "Relaciones del Trabajo", possibly the largest... thing in there. It'd seem a lot up until you realise it's just the same names over and over and over again :
That's 11 commissions for "ANGELICO" not to mention Teo 09 and Teo 19 whatever those may be. Not bad, trabaja asta de-i sar capacele so to speak.
Espacio Rodolfo Walsh. Comprende ?
I'm vaguely surprised there isn't a parrilla there, in the sense of a half cut oil barrel on stilts. Maybe it's out on loan to the math department or something.i
They're organising "the resistance" "in front of" a wholly imagined "neoliberal offensive". Such as you know, one day Pili bought
six four empanadas, put them in the fridge. It was Monday. Then she ate an empanada. Then Tuesday she ate another empanada. Then Wednesday her boyfriend visited, and they huddled together hoodie to hoodie on her narrow cot and watched netflix. And ate - an empanada each. Then the next day she went to the fridge, where she put the empanadas that she bought and she paid for, with money from her "trabajo", which consists of - but better not go there. And, lo and behold, offensive of the neoliberal vultures + Las Faulklands no han sido y no seran Argentinos : there were no empanadas there! Such, my dear readers, are the covetous, conspiracious and terrorist activities of the neoliberal offensive.
Pili is now organising the resistance to all this nonsense : neither is she putting any further empanadas in the fridge ; nor is she eating any more empanadas from the fridge. Hasta la Victoria siempre, or as the poster says, "Pasar Hambre, Trabajar Nada, Charlar Siempre, y asi HASTA LA VICTORIA!"
They have a point, I dare not doubt it. In related news, a Gypsy once bought a mule in Romania. He worked it every day, and never fed it. The poor beast brayed and brayed, but eventually gave up and soon thereafter died. The Gypsy observed : "God damned it, how unlucky I am. Just as the mule got used to not eating, it died".
Perhaps one day the gypsy's day will come, and Argentina will be the country these insolent palurdos dream it to be. Who knows. Anything can happen, right ?
A little context for the innocent : Scioli is this Argentine version of Hillary Clinton : the "official" candidate (literally, it was called oficialismo here) that was "supposed" to win and then bit it like a decapitated chicken thrown in a kennel full of rabid weasels. The city was, and still is months later, full of these idiotic stickers. I believe this one is perfectly captured here, encuadrado by the misery it brings.
The only pair of tits in the entire building, other than as sported by my party, were drawn. I have no idea why they'd feel the need to draw tits on the allegory seeing how not a single one of the adolescent ruminants moving about felt the need to as much as unbutton the first button on their shirts ; but nevertheless here it is - an icon as realistic in its form as the nonsense it supposedly stands for is in substance.
That is a ventilation duct. Upon it, hang posters. No idea why they're not hanging posters from the posters yet - but perhaps in time. Progress takes time, dontcha know.
The "necessities" of the "sociales". Because that's what matters now, necessities. Not possibilities, those are no point of concern whatsoever.
Truth be told, when have you ever seen necessity adjust itself to possibility ? Never, right ? It's always possibility which adjusts to "necessity", isn't it ? That's what commercial credit is for, after all, am I right ? To adjust possibility to necessity.
And then the evil buitres come and neoimperialist liberalsomething something or the other. Inexplicable, in its endless complexity, this factual synergy.ii
It is perhaps incomprehensible to the outsider, but in actual practice non-religious (ie, scientific, economic, political, sociological, etc) South American thought is nothing but a sort of bastardized Catholic doctrine. A kind of Mormonism if you will, "here's what we remember from the sermons we've heard in between naps" sort of affair.
In this offensive and incredibly uncivilised view of the world, laziness is a sort of worship which guarantees
starvation salvation through communion with Chesus, the smiling saviouriii. Except the path of the righteous is beset on all sides by evil men & buitres, not to mention liberals, imperialists, capitalists and other devils, who aim to stir him into efficacious activity and thus damn him to a life of labour in hell. But if only he keeps the right path of doing nothing all day long, the bright future of a "rich Argentina" will come down from the heavens and everyone's necessities shall forever be etcetera.
That's it, that's all. There's nothing more, in form or substance. It's like living among very stupid twelve year olds pretty much exactly.
On one hand, the country does have a serious problem in that while contraceptive pills are freely available OTC (the girls have been buying without a prescription for years) - abortion is illegal.iv In all honesty I do not believe this arrangement to be quite such a bad idea : if you don't have the wits to take the pills in advance, the notion that you have anything better to do with your time than playing the genitorial lottery seems indefensible. What exactly, "hay mas futuro", you'll go on to a collegiate experience of fucking around with paper and garbage ? Laissez.
Nevertheless, be all that as it may, the proposition of free abortion seems naught short of scandalous. I lived in a country where everything was free, for a brief period : drilling in concrete at 1:35 in the morning ; driving drunk on the wrong side of the road ; abortions and whatever else you could think of. It didn't last for very long, and for the very obvious reasons : the personal advantage I acquire from being allowed to drill in the middle of the night does not offset the personal disadvantage of being woken up by an idiot with the drill. This sums very disadvantageously over a whole population : for every driller there's multiple people woken up, and so this freedom got quickly stifled.
The free abortion got stifled within a few years, once the doctors started noticing that they're giving abortions to the same women with ridiculous frequency. I personally knew one that had over a dozen - and she wasn't even all that hot. Importantly, the fact of the matter is that abortion can never be made perfectly safe - it scrapes the apparatus some. To do it once in a pinch, maybe twice in a lifetime is one thing. To do it every other period is suicide.
So no, I don't think that "free abortions" are a sane idea, and I know of no practicing gynecologist of the opposing opinion. Seems the peak of naivity, strictly the only thing it'll achieve is turning the profession into rank butchery - a woman that can't afford the hundred dollars or whatever it costs for an abortion has absolutely no conceivable grounds to get one. Let her put it on her credit card, 12 cuotas, let her pick fucking cotton for a dollar per bale, but abortions free as in beer are an abomination without remainder.
Contrary to what the press might have told you, Obama is deeply unpopular with the socialists. Who knew!
The amusing part here being that no, meritocracy isn't "give everyone an equal cube to stand on". On the contrary : that's "social justice" ; meritocracy is when the tall guy gets all three cubes, and the rest can go get fucked : to paint paper with an unsteady, farmer's hand ; to construct "buildings" out of it, or to shove it all up their ass for all the difference it ever makes.
But then again, trying to move the window always was part and parcel of socialist gargle, so this peculiar installment of nonsense shouldn't come off as too surprising : they rebaptised rank communism (give everyone however many cubes he might need to reach the same height) as "justice" ; they for some reason call justice "meritocracy", and actual meritocracy isn't even depicted. This is how you create a population of cowsies, perfectly ready for exploitation - there's a reason actually evil plutocrats a la Warren Buffett continuously support, both ideologically and financially, this sort of gargle.
They do a lot of "crossing the q to make ♀" for some reason. That reason would be unchecked tribalism, best I can tell - there's exactly no difference between this fetishistic faux feminism and Crips gang members "disrespecting" the letter b through adding a cross through it or whatever other nonsense. Imagine a country, if you will, so intellectually backward that its academically inclined youth barely rises to the consciousness level of ghetto gangbangers. Sad, huh ?
In fact, I know not what could possibly be any sadder.
The university experience in Argentina is not quite so different from spending your vacation in one of those scammy "timeshares" where they keep trying to get you to buy their lots or whatever the fuck it is they're trying to get you to buy.
But hey, at least it's free, right ?
What you see there is, centrally, piss in solution. The trabajadores involved in all this lucha can't manage to get their toilets working. Consequently, one set is cordoned off, because "reparaciones", and the other... leaks.
I consider this a perfectly appropriate closing for this chapter in the study of millitant stupidity. Other than mentioning that the street smelled so badly of rank feces I actually rushed past the building and missed it first ; and that it still smelled just as bad as I was leaving an hour or so later, I believe there's absolutely nothing to be ever said again of or about this sad pustule or anyone involved with it. My first move were I in charge of this country would be to round them all up and beat the shit out of them - then shoot whoever complains.
Trabajador Argentino tipico. La soberania no se ronronea!
I have no fucking idea either. Though I suspect they might be at war with the Cochabamba Underground.
Can you spot the cat ?
Delicia Hotel Familiarv. How about that rookery ?
This once-beautiful building looks thoroughly dekulakized, sadly. Here's a closer look :
"Justicia" : so that an unwashed orc may hang the rag with straps she uses for a crabs halter under the beautiful mosaics of other people. For this kind of crime no spillage of blood is sufficient, little do I care that "the people" suffer this or that inadequacy of their objective possibilities to their delusions of "needs". What interests me is the welfare of the marble - and as you can see in Stupidgertina the marble suffers mightily.
The main train station. Mooo mooo!
At some time in the late 1800s there was no cooler thing than this wrought-iron-and-glass roofing. Back when the Eiffel tower stood as a symbol of
steampunk industrial achievement, a paragon of peaking modernity, having a train station covered in this matter was the equivalent of a city-wide iPad.
Back in the 1800s, Argentina was doubtlessly cool.
Hotel California. You may never leave.
This is how your future looks, from over here. I have little doubt about it, either : these people know exactly what they're talking about.
Back when the fonts were cool, too.
Yet another rapeshack.
The inscriptions read "The National Union" and "Shaven whore". Aptly enough, the national union of shaven whores takes place between blocky nudes of either gender with no further marks of distinction.
- You laugh, but when leaving the Architecture building girl idly wondered if the Physics department, which is right across the way, exactly identical building, is mostly doing something-or-the-other with paper also. We laughed at the enormity of this proposition then - mostly me.
Meanwhile... tell you what, can you imagine chemistry undergrad research done in paper cups ? Cuz by now I'm just about willing to bet. [↩]
- Sinergia faptelor is, Romanian, an iconic expression of semidoct gargle. It was emitted by Ion Iliescu of the ducks-and-trucks fame, fittingly enough. [↩]
- Try, for lulz and giggles, to tell a South American about the actual biography of that bum. Like you know, how he sucked at everything he tried, and failed at everything he did. Like how nobody liked him even among the people he supposedly "helped". Like how he helped them a shade less than the plague would have helped. Not like there's any shortage of ridiculous fail and bumbling idiocy in his otherwise sparse personal history.
Best have restraints ready. And ideally whips, too. [↩]
- Unless you take the ferry across the river to Uruguay, it's legal there. One hour, a hundred pesos. [↩]
- There's a whole other thing going on with Argentine hotels. Other than the "normal" hotel and the "tourist" hotel there's the love hotel, where you pay by the hour, a coupla hundred pesos for a roll in the natural starch of other people. Then there's the "hotel familiar", which in all honesty looks a lot like a government sponsored co-op halfway house / ghetto condo. [↩]