Gangsters and Rebels

This is a story of fervor and pain,
of two lovers in political chains.

Have you ever found yourself in a terrible situation because of love? Mexico has. With his last breath drawing near, body wracked with pain as he lay dying in a pool of his own blood, he tries to remember the stupid decisions that lead up to this point so he can regret them one last time.

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The Anti-America Game

A blazing red Bel Air convertible barreled down the street, roof pulled all the way back and engine roaring. On the car’s bumper, a sticker that read CAPITALISM KILLS.

Want to talk about anti-Americanism, Cuba, or anything else related to this post? Be sure to check out the Discussion at the end of the story and share your thoughts.


A blazing red Bel Air convertible barreled down the street, roof pulled all the way back and engine roaring. Little flags on each side of the hood danced wildly in the rushing air. On the car’s bumper, a sticker that read CAPITALISM KILLS.

Continue reading “The Anti-America Game”

North Korea the Red-Nosed Nation-State: Part II

“You know what these boots are made for? Stomping fascists.”

A continuation of this story.

Turns out, the Abominable American wasn’t that hard to outrun. He was pretty slow due to his size, and also kind of lazy. He gave up chase five minutes in, after which he retreated to his lair to partake in material sin and filthiness.

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North Korea the Red-Nosed Nation-State: Part I

It was a special day at the North Pole.

Russia was ecstatic when her new baby boy was born with a red nose, for she knew the vibrant color derived from the boy’s fiery communist resolve.

“Look at him,” Russia said as she cradled her baby and stared in awe at the boy’s glowing snout. “Isn’t he beautiful, China?”

China took a sip of bourbon and flipped through the newspaper in his lap.”Sure.”

The trembling young country looked at his mother and then to China, big black eyes shining with innocence. “D… D…”

Russia gasped. “Look at you! Are you going to say your first word?”

The baby’s face wrinkled into a nasty look. “D…D… Duh… Die, Western dogs!”

Russia cried out, throwing her arms around her son as tears of joy pooled in the corners of her eyes.

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My big fat communist sh*tshow

Over time it had become a custom to throw a communist party every so often. This would often lead to complications because most communists hated each other. But the one thing keeping their solidarity alive was their shared hatred for the West–mainly, the United States. In the end, that was enough for them.

soviet-symbol-isolated-871291743539f02.jpg
Photo by Vera Kratochvil

Over time it had become a custom to throw a communist party every so often. This would often lead to complications because most communists hated each other. But the one thing keeping their solidarity alive was their shared hatred for the West–mainly, the United States. In the end, that was enough for them.

The “parties” (they never felt like parties) used to be big events, but then the Soviet Union collapsed; everyone who was forced to practice communism was either free to not practice communism or forced to practice capitalism. So, their numbers dwindled. Now the five of them could fit comfortably around a hot pot in China’s house.

“How was the food, Cuba?” China asked when the plates around him finally started to look bare.

“Wonderful, thank you.”

“The mutton was a little tender,” Vietnam said placidly.

China didn’t even look at her. “Thank you, Vietnam, for the opinion that no one asked for.”

Continue reading “My big fat communist sh*tshow”