Scene: Last Thursday, supposedly a working day.
Total Time: three hours plus. A very expensive restaurant in Las Mercedes. Outside several 4×4 luxury station wagons, two dozen drivers and bodyguards. Inside, seven leaders of the chavocracia, it is unclear whether only scammers alone or true front men. Two bottles of Johny Walker blue label on the table, talking to each other about yachts and airplanes. Ostentation and Showing off. The story comes to me via an engineer friend to whom one of the chavócratas, a lawyer and old friend from the days when they both had nothing, asked him to be there to help him out with something he needed. After an hour and a half of having to listen to the shouts, the lawyer called my friend aside, to take care of him. During the conversation, a waiter comes and reports to the chavócrata that another participant in the banquet insists on paying the bill. The lawyer raises his voice and making sure everyone can hear him says that the bills is his and does not accept that anyone else pay. A brief verbal tussle,some shouting and finally my friend’s friend paid the account of 18 000 strong bolivars.
Eighteen million of the old bolivars. This is the way they govern. Who are these guys? The New Class.
The new bourgeoisie, the chavoburguesía. Those who have become millionaires from bond issuest, with food imports, with imports of luxury cars, charging fees for moving a straw, or the black market for dollars, putting their hands on all misplaced Bolívars that they see around themselves. The denial of all the ideals and dreams of a few idiots who still believe that this shit is a socialist revolution.