Peruvian Enthusian

National Independence Day in Peru, July 28, is cause for celebration even in such a remote from the Modern World place as this. Who would think anyone here in Peru would care about this place, it not being Europe or America proper. There is poverty here most North Americans could not tolerate the smell of, would regulate into oblivion by enforcing rules of such minor import that the average Peruvian would be drowned by the idiocy, would long to flee from such an ugly nightmare of out of control women with nothing better to do than make too much money from tax-payer funded make believe jobs of nagging and hectoring the infantile population they had bullied into a state of semi-terror with "manners" fit only for potty-trained adults on hyper-diarhetics. Peru is not the p.c pomo America of social justice wankers. The endless bitch of Modernity would fly into frantic temper tantrums over the ways of Peru, Peru's lack of restrictions on nearly everything people can and mostly unashamedly do, much of it in public. One can smoke cigarettes, drink beer, and fart openly in the park while watching a soccer game. People jaywalk! They drink large sodas. Most of them are fat and they don't seem to care. For the oppressed women of Modernity who have to pay for their own birth control pills (!), who demand abortion on demand, who bitch and whinge and scream about sexual harrassment if a man looks at them flashing their pussies at lunch counters at the shopping mall food court, Peru must be a sort of hell on earth. But for Peruvians this is a good place, and they are proud of it. They actually love this country. Who in the Modern world could believe anyone could love a country at all? Who there could stand a nation in which men are free? Peruvians love it. So do I. But it's not so perfect-- even on Independence Day.

For all the bullshit of the Freak Show in the Modern, the crying and snivelling and bitching that sub.s for something interesting to contribute to a conversation among educated people, we do not have death squad legacies to dig up literally from the ground. In Peru the Anthropology gang dress up like waiters carrying Bibles and they note their findings as they brush away the dirt and dust and lift layers of sucking mud from the dead in the search for something maybe like justice for those murdered in war between the Maoist lunatics and the fascist eugenicist Japanese Fujimori and company. Peruvians have much to be pissed off about, and not just that some have to repay their idiot student loans. Here, the Anthropologists dig up real suffering. I could choke the Freak Show slugs who bitch about their miseries on Facebook. If I could I would smash their fingers with the handmade and chunky bricks the locals here use to make bare wall houses with concrete floors they rise from to go to work as, for example, school teachers who do not get paid for months at a time. Men with books note the truth. It's Independence Day in Peru.

It's such a fashion statement today in the Modern world to be a queer. If one is not a queer, one is better off to pretend, to mince and giggle and bleach ones hair and get a tattoo of a rose on ones arse. So I've heard. Not that I know that guy. Not that I know the girl who dresses in black jeans and a sleeveless while cotton tee shirt and chops off her black-dyed hair that she covers with an on backward baseball cap as she walks with a girl I know who dresses for the office. Freak Show girl has decided that gender roles are assigned to females to oppress them, and Freak Show girl is determined to break out of this male oppression by turning queer and walking down the street with her thumbs in her belt loops, no belt, of course, so her pants ride down below her ass-crack,) and she twists on each step so to 'swagger' like she thinks a man swaggers. That she's a fucking moron no matter what she wears is lost on her. To her, it's all a conspiracy to oppress her and the sisterhood of likeminded goofs. She would certainly rescue her Peruvian sisters from such oppression as above, rescue them from joining the police force, rescue them from dressing up for Independence Day in uniform, rescue them from flirting with the macho men of the deep jungle commando forces, guys who sleep in swamps and kill drug smugglers.

Yes, I like it raw and wild, man that I am, and not a shrieking queer oppressed by capitalism. Frankly, I don't care if this is Peru. It's not my country. It is, to my great relief, a free country. Peruvians like it. I like it, too. I like the enthusiasm.

I like the celebration of liking, even if one doesn't have an M.F.A. that puts one in debt for a hundred years with student loans ones imitation of "Piss Christ" can't pay off.

A bit of art and craft on the cheap does it well enough. And if one has no real art to give, one can simply walk to the beach by the river and watch birds and drink beer and shoot the shit and flirt with the fat girls who don't care if they have distended bellies and five kids who will never go to Harvard for law degrees.

The Freak Show with its endless childish bitching hovers over us all, waiting, no doubt, for funding to make it all correct for the poor of Peru who don't live like us with our social justice and Queer Theory courses for the oppressed of the world.

The ugly fascist creeps of the Freak Show will have their chance in a few weeks to extend their dirty rule over the nation I come from. Win or lose, they will always be with us. But I need not be with them, especially when I can be with people who are free, being free myself. Fuck the Freak Show. Fuck Obama and the scum-sucking losers who vote for him. I like my independence, Peruvian style.

The man at Belen Market in Iquitos, Peru laughs out loud when I tell him he would be the worst criminal in the nation if he tried selling that anaconda skin in America. I laugh, too, because he only wants $5.00 for it. Freedom. It even tastes OK as soup. Bitch, bitch, bitch. Fuck Obama. Happy, happy, happy, independence in Peru.