The fire that burns your skin

Narcos is one of the best shows out there and Netflix deserves a spot in teleheaven for giving it to us. Every thing about it is on point- the action, the visuals, the script, the beautiful people. It is also quite educational; thanks to Narcos I can now say “You are all dead, motherfuckers” in Spanish which is useful if my room ever again gets invaded by fruit flies.

My Spanish proficiency does not stop there as I can speak of hijos, hijas, mi primos y primas and ask mi hermanos y hermanas “que pas?” In the future I can command mi’jos y mi’has to reply “Si patron” when addressing me, and dare them to ask “Porque?”  When my food is delivered I can stare at my pizza and chicken wings fondly and whisper:  “Te quiero mucho mi amor” and yell “Mierda!” when I realise one chicken wing is missing. When I run into my arch nemesis (I’d have to get one first) I can go up to this muchacho o muchacha and say passados, passados before tying each end of the hijo puta’s body to a motorcycle and then….

We cannot speak about Narcos without giving credit to the theme song. Usually I do not have the patience for opening credits and I often just fast forward, but not Narcos. Oh the joy in my heart when season 3 was finally released and I heard the song again. The drum (or whatever instrument that is) signalling the start and the 15 seconds or so of gorgeous latin instrumental before the singing begins. Beautiful.

Of course I went looking for the song and found out it is called Tuyo and is sung by Rodrigo Amarante.

I came across a translation in the youtube comment section and I was struck by how beautiful the words are. I have come across other translations online but it still my favourite:

I am the fire that burns your skin
I am the water that kills your thirst
Of the castle, I am the tower
The sword that guards the treasure
You, the air that I breathe
And the light of the moon on the sea
The throat that I long to wet
But I’m afraid I’ll drown in love
And which desires will you give me?
Just to look is treasure enough
It will be yours, it will be yours

Spanish is such a beautiful language and when translated into English sounds very poetic and ethereal; just like the English accent of native Spanish speakers. I was quite surprised to find out that Rodrigo Amarante is a 41 year old Brazilian man, as I thought for sure the song was an old one and that the singer was surely deceased. The last time I was this surprised was when I found out that not only is Michael Bublé still alive, he is also quite young. What is it about beautiful music that makes me think it must have been sung ages ago by a now deceased person?

I eagerly await Narcos season 4 to make acquaintance with the Juarez cartel and I hope God spares my soul to see whatever season it is that will profile Griselda Blanco.

Viva la Narcos! (The show not the exotic pharmacists)

So fucking what?

“It’s now very common to hear people say, ‘I’m rather offended by that.’ As if that gives them certain rights. It’s actually nothing more… than a whine. ‘I find that offensive.‘ It has no meaning; it has no purpose; it has no reason to be respected as a phrase. ‘I am offended by that.’ Well, so fucking what.”

Stephen Fry

Society of the perpetually outraged

Social media has become a hellhole. A watering hole for the society of the perpetually outraged. A nirvana for people so immensely talented in the art of extracting offense from the highest praise. Heaven for those who jump out of bed in the morning with the sole aim of reaching their outrage quota; those who live by the motto “take offense first and understand later

The citizens of the society of the eternally offended have become mindless zombies, fueled by their righteous anger and nourished by think-pieces and thirty-tweet threads. There is no original thought in this new society; its citizens peek out of their covens to gauge the general consensus and then furiously type out dissertations that reiterate these opinions. They must be careful not to stray too far from what everyone believes lest they find themselves cancelled with a t and an exclamation mark. These worker bees buzz around the web, tirelessly sifting out the asleep and the slightly dozing off, burrowing deep in search for employment information with which to punish these errant deviants.

The citizens of the society of the perpetually offended are so voracious and dedicated that they will consume their own from time to time. They patiently lie in wait for anyone-even a fellow citizen- to forget to cross their Ts and they pounce. An erstwhile prominent offence taker and outrage expresser is cut down mercilessly by fellow citizens who admit they always knew this person was problematic all along. The bottle is spun again and it is the turn for another offense taker who was just taking offense at a fellow offense taker to be put down. Slowly, everyone is torched, but they bounce back quick. They have to, a spot in this society is never open for too long before someone runs in and fills it with their own fifteen dollars and seventy five cents words.

They steamroll their way through the interwebs, flattening every and anything in their wake. If Jesus descended today from the heavens to heal the world in a chariot of fire surrounded by a million angels, he would be cancelled with a t and an exclamation mark for reasons that will be outlined in no less than one thousand tablets filled with words make sense to the members of this society and no one else. Then another faction of this society will creep up to cancel these people for cancelling Jesus and will in no less than two thousands tablets outline the reasons why the cancellation of Jesus is really the real problem. The People for the Ethical Treatment of Stones (PETS) will then unleash an incoherent rant asking why we write on stones and not on babies; why do we breastfeed our babies but leave the stones to fend for themselves?

The slogan of this society is See the offense you want to see in the world. Offense can be drawn from every single thing-cotton candy, a baby’s laughter, a drop of rain- and if you do not agree with this then you are the reason for world hunger and global warming and you are cancelled with a t and an exclamation mark.


I remember the moment I stopped feeling.

Yet another bomb had been detonated
Scores of people had died yet again

As usual, I grabbed my phone and made to join those already furiously criticising the evil. This was an act I had performed over and over again but this time I could not find the words-or the will.

I was tired.

What could I say that I haven’t already said?
All the curses have been uttered;
All the anger expressed
The perpetrators damned to hell over and over again.

How many more ways could I condemn the evil,
when even as I say it I know it is only a matter of time before the next one?

My thoughts are with…
Pray for…
The hottest part of hell belongs to…


Rest in Peace.
Utterly meaningless.

What exactly do we mean when we tell people to be careful?
“Watch out for any bombs!”
“Be careful not to get killed!”