resonance in grass

Between David Brooks and Karl Rove, what's an independent to do in this decaying political landscape of ours here in the Ol' United States of America? If you spend all day watching cable news networks, the push-pull policy dichotomy has never seemed so strong between Asses and Elephants. Disillusioned youngsters are content to get their news on comedy programs, because, frankly, what news isn't second or even third hand these days? Maybe, then, it's high time to get far away from these current boondoggling cum-farts and contemplate the dilemma of another time, another place, another day...Consider the West End of Chicago in developing times; a major selling point of the city was that watching the prairie grass was like seeing an ocean of greenish hues as the wind swept over it all. A similar notion was alive in the southern neighborhoods of Buenos Aires, Argentina, where the vertiginous rush of the San Telmo marketplace gave way to the Pampas, the grassy plain that was the life giving source for the bustling masses huddled in to such close quarters. In Buenos Aires, every year finds 'La Rural', a national 4H fair, popping off in all its splendor. 5 convention center buildings filled to the brim with booths of every possible facet of agriculture. Ingrained in the products and services offered are relevant tales of the places they come from. Swirling all around are the proud textiles of the Andes, the luxuriant warmth of Patagonian fur, 'Swiss' chocolate from Bariloche, enough Mendozan wine to make Caligula blush...

All the pomp and circumstance of the fair overlooks the harsh reality of rural life in Argentina. On a trip out to the Massalines Particulares factory, just outside the city limits, the end of the urban highway was punctuated (!) by the squalor of the completely rural outlying region; anorexic horses and a beleaguered looking group of individuals who didn't seem much better fed then their equestrian friend. Upon arriving at the factory (where they produce every possible Phillip Morris brand cigarette), my host, Guillermina, escorted me to a room where more than a dozen employees were comfortably seated, snacking on sandwiches and coffee. I asked them, "why do you want to improve your English language skills?" Most believed that it would enable them to rise higher in the company ladder, one assembly-line worker made it clear that he simply wanted to enjoy future vacations more. Fast forward to a cab ride through the microcentro, business district, where I ask a cab driver what he thought of then current-president Kirchner; "aunque está enomarado por mucha gente, si preguntes los del campo iban a decirte el contrario"(yes he is beloved, but those outside of the city have a different tale to tell.) At that moment it became clearer to me that the disconnect between the population who consumed and the population who produced had grown wider amongst these people. 'La Rural' served as a mechanism for the rich to trumpet the glory of their financial superiority; tickets were not cheap. The real workers were busy striking and shutting down highways in Córdoba over an executive decision to halt the exportation of beef. That same disconnect is ever so real here in the US of A. I had a chat with a bilingual worker for the Baltimore Health Department who noted that her Italian family's conservative worldview could be tolerated in the sense that, 'just lived differently from us, they had to make their own food...' upon which point I had to cut her off, invoking Dionysus, to wonder just how she had come to that conclusion.(what does MF DOOM have to say about this?). I questioned her belief that we don't have to work for our food like our grandparents did, as we chewed on three day old baby carrots, chopped and chilling in a plastic container. She smiled, seeing my blatant hypocrisy in action, and shrugged it off, moving on to tell me that it really sucked to not be able to smoke weed with the fear of failing a mandatory drug screening before she could begin working.