From our Bureau of Friends in High Places with some assistance from our Party Time for the Party Animals Bureau
Hey, it’s party time for the Party! The Communist Party, that is. You betcha! No peasants allowed. This joint only allows la crème de la crème through its doors. This is Havana’s version of Studio 54 for card-carrying communists, as well as their friends and parasites.
Such a perfect communist hangout! Such a perfect communist name, too: Mio y Tuyo (Mine and Yours) ! The sheer irony of it all could make capitalist heads explode!
So, who owns this little enclave frequented by the finest families on the island? Could this be one of Castro, Inc.’s many camouflaged “private” enterprises?
Sort of, or so it seems. No one has solid proof of anything, as usual. Good luck finding a paper trail that leads to proof of anything in Cuba. But everyone seems to know that Elio Ahumada, the “owner” is a friend of King Raul’s grandson, “El Cangrejo.” Yes, everyone can feel the glow of the throne the minute they set foot in this pleasure dome.
Aaaahhh, the many, many joys of being a communist in Cuba. Party on, Party animals. Recite the first line of your Party’s creed as you enter or exit this swanky bar: “some animals are more equal than others.”
From 14yMedio via Translating Cuba
The atmosphere is electrifying, and the music is very loud. Everyone knows him and wants to know – both in Havana and outside Cuba – the coordinates for the most exclusive bar in Cuba: Mío and Tuyo (Mine and Yours). Prostitution, drugs, the best alcohol and the best cigars – multiple rumors surround the administration of the premises. It is claimed that the owner, Elio Ahumada, is a close friend of Raúl Guillermo Rodríguez Castro, alias El Cangrejo (The Crab), Raúl Castro’s grandson and bodyguard. Allegedly armored by the regime, Ahumada has a slogan on social networks: “Speak comment, defame.” The gossip can only give publicity.
Located in Miramar, on 5B and 42nd streets of the municipality of Playa, the white fence of Mío y Tuyo, in addition to the security personnel who guard it, makes one thing clear: not just anybody can get in. It’s commonly said that only the “beautiful people” go there – with the intention of spending “the best nights in Havana” – but also the wealthiest, the one who dresses best and the one who has the most contacts, in addition to having transportation to return home in the early hours of the morning.
Behind the bar, with dark glasses and a cocktail shaker in his hand, the bartender prepares everyone’s favorite drink. Some are known, like a mojito, and some are far-fetched, like a social-climbing coyote. There are no limits, and the radiant bottles behind him attest to this: for whiskey, Johnnie Walker – blue label, one of the most expensive – Ballantine’s and Chivas Regal; for vodka, Grey Goose Magnum and Belvedere; for rum, wonders from one shore to another.
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And there are always, ALWAYS hangers-on and camp-followers. Well, it’s only been like that forever.
And you’d better believe Castro, Inc. has a BIG hand in this business. There’s no other way it could exist.
So how, you ask, does the “revolution” (read ruling class) in a paragon of equality like Cuba explain such an exclusive pleasure palace completely beyond the reach of “the people”? Don’t ask stupid questions. The “revolution” doesn’t have to explain anything, because its members all know the score and its foreign enablers and collaborators, not to say accomplices, can deal with any, uh, discrepancy via willful blindness.
Still, the photo is great. All three people in it look exactly like what they are.
The more I look at the damn photo, the creepier it seems. They all look like airbrushed, soul-less ghouls.