Val Tries Again to Write a 5th Anniversary Post

I never set out to become Val's guru, just to correct his mistakes in logic and lapses in democratic discourse. That was a formidable enough task and more than any other man would willingly undertake for nothing. Yet I find that my influence over him has overstepped the bounds of my expectations and now makes me somewhat uneasy. Everything that I write here about Babalú is interpreted by him as a hint of sorts and elicits from him an instant reaction. If I suggest that Val is likely to do something, he is quick to do the exact opposite. Were I of a Machiavellian cast of mind, I could control his every move through the old chesnut of reverse psychology. This trick, which even children seem to know nowadays, is perenially new to Val. If, for example, I suggest that Val is likely to write a long and pompous panegyric for Babalú's 5th anniversary, he instead posts one word: "Wow." When I observe that his minimalism proves that he just doesn't a give a damn anymore, he produces the tendentious flummery that I first predicted.

In my own post on "Babalú's Fifth Anniversary," I noted Val's love for the word "humble" and how he has managed to invest that word with tints of insincerity which are not much seen outside of Dickens. Well, naturally, he made sure to use "humble" prominently in his second commemorative post. In fact, he used it twice in the same sentence, which created an effect of insincerity which is worthy of a better writer: "[I] dont know how it happened, but this humble blog of humble origins grew, it seems, almost exponentially form [from] one day to the next." He uses "humble blog" once more before he is done with it. Well, it was a humble blog once before Val started describing it as a "humble blog." Too much humility is only hubris in disguise. When that word is trotted out nowadays it is usually pulling a wagon load of manure.

I have often kidded Val about the dead chickens and coconuts which he claims are deposited on his lawn every week, urging him not to regard them as politically-motivated when they could just as well indicate that his neighbors don't like him. Still, in the annals of Babalú the dead chickens and coconuts hold a symbolic place and Val again alludes to them as an old veteran might point to his battle scars. Well, actually, an old veteran wouldn't.

Here's another priceless sentence: "Im incredibly proud of this endeavor. Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the extents the words posted herein would go to." The majesty of that sentence, which defies all attempts at parsing, must shine by its own black light.

And yet another gem of sophistry, more inscrutable than the last: "We have helped get the word out on the struggle and strife of Cuba's political and ideological prisoners and we have maybe opened some eyes or four." At least four eyes, we should hope.

In the comments section of this blog some have suggested that Val may have been referring to us when he mentions at length Babalú's "detractors." Since I have never called Val "a fascist, an evil bastard, a homophobe, a heartless so and so, an intransigent, anitquated [?] extremist terrorist, etc..." I am sure that he must have other detractors in mind. The things I have called Val he prefers not to mention because they would not be as easily dismissed as the strawmen that he cites.

One final observation: Val is not usually so atrocious a writer. He can only be inspired to these depths by some impetus of "humility."