After hailing Sting as the world's moral conscience whose mere condemnation would topple Castro as decades ago, they fancied, it had "brought down" Botha and Pinochet (both, of course, actually stepped down peacefully and patriotically), the Babalunians, unable to court the English rocker on bended knee or with the banner "Excelsior," have turned on their erstwhile hero and would-be liberator, as they had done earlier to the Estefans, because they failed to honor their commitments to Val, as if the rich and famous felt honor bound by their word, especially when given to someone whom they consider beneath them (perhaps because that's exactly where Val had placed himself by his obsequiousness and shameless pandering).
Val has now embarked on a campaign to expose Sting — or "Mr. Human Rights, as he now sarcastically calls him — as the fellow traveller and hypocrite he has always been and which only Val & Henry could convince themselves he was not in the first place.
It seems that it has been brought to Val's attention that Sting is an investor in a New York theme-bar and restaurant called "Socialista," whose purpose is to introduce Cuban-style apartheid to the Big Apple. The bar consists of two tiers. The hoi polloi are limited to the first tier; the rich and beautiful may aspire to bathe in the rarified atmosphere of the 2nd tier, which is adorned with photographs of Fidel Castro and other Communist icons. Of course, prices are the same on both tiers and it is more likely that the waiters will annoint with their proletarian spit the $16.00 drinks of the customers in the 2nd tier.
I do not know if this campaign against Sting is sanctioned by, or a continuation of, BUCL's failed efforts to "conquer" Sting, or just another of Val's temper tantrums when he is snubbed by the rich and clueless. However, there is an uncanny similarity between the treatment Sting accords to customers in the first-tier and that which he dealt Henry & Val. Obviously Val believes that he belongs in the elite fraternity and it pains him sorely to have his application blackballed. This would be his business — and a pitiful one at that — if he did not insist on covering his posterior with the Cuban flag.
If Emilio had offered to make Henry his publicist, or Sting had contacted Val to remodel the 27 bathrooms of his mansion, would our intrepid defenders have been placated and convinced that the Cuban cause had been well-served? I think so. Sucking at the tits of the rich is almost as good as being rich to the mammonist.
It is becoming increasingly obvious that Babalú has little or nothing to do with Cuba and less to do with Cubans on the island unless they happen to be in prison. Everyone else cannot be trusted and should not be helped. At best, Babalú is a diversion from the real issues confronting Cubans. It was never as bad as now or as shameless in exposing its real ends. I am only sorry for Babalú's latest contributors who have been pressed into its service under false pretenses; but some day they will awaken to the truth, the smart ones, anyway.