I love my Cubans
I wish the cloud-cover hadn’t lifted. Now the U-2s will have a field day taking their pictures of the Soviet missile sites. Who knows? Maybe the gringos really don’t know. The U-2s are flown by the CIA and, after all, look at what the CIA accomplished at the Bay of Pigs: the CIA invaded Cuba, got their butts kicked in less than 72 hours, humiliated Kennedy, and allowed us to—well, let’s put it this way—to consolidate our Revolution. Some people say we went too far in arresting 100,000 people when only about 1200 invaded the island. But they forget why we call the worms worms: because a relatively small number of them can go underground and in due course, they have torn up everything and made a helluva mess.
According to our Soviet comrades, things are nearing completion at the sites. I have to take their word for it. I know nothing abut nuclear weapons, nuclear strategy, nuclear science or nuclear anything. Comrade Nikita says they will be ready to fight and I take him at his word. He should know. But we will also fight for our fatherland. Our people will compete to see who gets to kill the first Yankee invader.
Meanwhile, as we wait, the lines at the Tropicana nightclub are longer than ever. I love my Cubans. They prepare for Armageddon all day, and dance all night. To mambo with Benny More: is this paradise, or what?