I HAVE TO RESUME SEE HOW YOU CAN BE HATED SO SOME OF THE LEADERS OF LEFT TO BELIEVE SUPERMANA O SuperChair ... JAJAJAJA, VERY GOOD WRITING JAIME GREETINGS FROM EL SALVADOR ... DEATHS
DESIRED:
There are many deaths that I desire, not just those of Fidel and Raul Castro for kidnapping the freedom of Cubans over half a century and humiliate and enslave them.
A Fidel to die I'd like to see sitting on the toilet, straining in vain because the intestines have mutinied.
Raúl I would like to see him die drunk, throwing up in a park, confessing that it was all a fraud to seize power and drinking good vodka and Mercedes ride.
Al Ortega scoundrel like to see me die of old age, bald, toothless, sentenced to life imprisonment in a dungeon, smelly breath as their perfidious Managua, near the another German bastard, tremendous pillarajo and highwayman. And the soulless his wife, who says he is a poet, I like to see it burning at the stake by conceal sexual abuse and agree that Ortega made his daughter.
A Evo I would not like to see him die, because there is something in me that I inspired him tenderly. But I would like to retire from politics and dedicated to playing football, that's what you do with a lost and dubious talent, especially to four thousand feet and chewing coca.
A Correa also like to see me die, or not yet, it is young and frustrated actor, I'd like is to stay silent or, better still, deaf and dumb, so let's say, that unbearably plaintive tone that is his , so many trinkets and nonsense.
A Piedad Córdoba I wish they had kidnapped and tied to a tree at least six years and forced to eat rice and beans in the same plate that has defecated before so he knows what he suffered when he was a hostage Ingrid Betancourt from the angels that she argues with almost vaginal burning.
Uribe I wish it were immortal, however noble, gallant and brave.
Ms. Bachelet may not immortal, but they live a hundred years and spend a weekend with multiorgasmic hot and Arjona, which is what he deserves for being a good woman, simple and humble.
Cristina Kirchner and husband I would not want them dead, what I want is to suffer a little reasonable. Cristina , as Chavez when he needs money, and as capitalistic as you need bags and shoes, I would hate to dress in all of Colorado, as a good revolutionary sold to Chavez, with guayabera and jeans, no makeup whatsoever, no hairdressers or stylists, without those vampire eyes repainted faded, all in red and raw, right out of the shower. And her husband I'd like to see more cross-eyed, much more cross-eyed and lost, looking for a side with an eye to the opposite side to the other, so that no one knows, neither he nor his wife, who is looking.
Alan Garcia would not want him dead, but that, by law, submit to diet, to stop that way adult swallow in a country of starving, jogging six miles every morning followed by cameras and then bathe in the sea bathing suit brief display before the cameras this huge and growing belly, evening parties and revelry fact that taxpayers pay the poor Peruvians.
A Chavez would love to see him die, but not by a sniper shot or poisoned by a conspirator or a fight for power, but this exact way: you are talking on TV in your program and suddenly infinite pause between each bluster and rant and swallow a good chunk of cachapa and try to keep talking but can not, and then choking, fits the whole cachapa with corn and cheese in the crop imperial and stay silent for a glutton and start to cough, seizures and arcades, and that before dying a vomit-colored throw oil on the cameras and his sycophants and his face Bolivarian apandillados end sunk on the black, viscous puddle of his vomit, stiff and silent finally, finally met with Bolívar, whose soul has withered disgusted by the foul-mouthed baboon.
But obviously I will not be given the privilege to attend these deaths as desired and unlikely because at the moment I am determined to lead my own, taking pills, which is like the knights die, sedated and in bed.
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