I had a Center for a Free Cuba conference to attend in Midtown Manhattan and reserved a hotel room on Lexington Avenue and 38th Street, near Grand Central Station.
Little did I know when I made this reservation that I’d only be a few steps away from a doorway to Hell.
That plaque kept me awake all night. I had visions of it flying off the brick wall, crashing through my window and slicing off my head. I bet its edges are sharp enough for that.
On my way to the conference on Monday morning, I went to spit on the plaque, but instead took a photo of something else I hadn’t noticed before:
Mayor Rudy Giuliani renamed that corner and had the sign installed shortly after the Castro regime murdered Brothers to the Rescue Carlos Costa, Armando Alejandre, Jr., Mario de la Peña, and Pablo Morales.in 1996.
That sign dulled the edges on the plaque, making it pitiable rather than frightful. It made me realize that the plaque is a hostage, not a symbolic guillotine.
I’ve lost my sense of smell completely — due to my head injury. Thank God for that. Even with no sense of smell, I could feel the evil fumes radiating from that building burning my nostrils.
The Cuban flag flying three stories above Lexington Avenue was weeping uncontrolably, a moco tendido, as we Cubans say.
Fifty-six years after it was kidnapped, it’s still being held hostage and raped day in and day out by those who dare to claim it as theirs. And when they’re not raping it, its captors use it to wipe their demon-possessed asses.
The flag sang a familiar dirge in Spanish and English: “ A su debido tiempo, sus pies resbalarán…. In due time their feet will slip.” (Deuteronomy 32:35)