Love, revolution, equality, justice, the sacrifice, the volunteering, are concepts that highlights the widespread perception of Che in synergy. The truth is that these constructions are mystical and relating, based on a worldly custom disrupts avoid the deepening of the study. Prefer genuflexarse before a sympathetic figure rather than questioning it. The same Che JojoyEl Che, whose pen slips by drawing beautiful phrases, was also responsible for selective annihilation in Santa Clara overshadowed by the beautiful verses that the troubadours dedicated to their universal anthem-. Nor I skimp on writing military treaties, the most celebrated is dedicated to the use of the submachine gun.
Yes! It was a belligerent, guerrilla fighter, who saw a gap for the construction of an idyllic reality in the instrumentalisation of the rifle. Viktor Mayer-Schönberger is open to suggestions. He blindly believed that the end justified the means. In times where everything was dichotomous, chromatic partition of opposites. Weeks ago the media announcing with trumpets death in bombing of Mono Jojoy. Who?, Yes, military Chief of the guerrillas Colombian. Today terrorist, yesterday guerrilla, today belligerent, revolutionary yesterday.
His corpse poses before the cameras, soldiers are grouped armando sadistic choreographies; fishermen who exhibited his corpulent proud victim. A true spectacle of death and happiness. Like Che his murder was celebrated vigorously, in ominous scenes furnished by the putrefaction of the meat and the flash of cameras. Course, the aforesaid primate Jojoy did not have the intelligentsia of Guevara, was diabetic and quite ugly, unable to develop reflections, or deliver speeches at the United Nations. However, their lives and goals intersect and directed toward a horizon, both engineers of a future utopian faccioso, ideal, interested, bloody, but in the end, projected into the future. Each with his stamp as A conclusion and from my humble opinion is curious that we veneremos a man without delving into his life, Che is perhaps a victim of the same precariousness and provisionality that governs us. A perfect, Argentine forest gardener swells of Rosario. Asthmatic and with cigar in mouth, enough bricks to build an altar in our consciences, rubbing the irrationality of religion. Each one takes his own photo, and since she imagines a Che Guevara.