Veevah Mecsicou.

Today, 15th of september it becomes imperative i write down something about México's much touted "independence" when at this point we have practically none. It's been at least 30 years since the "mexican" congress has passed a law protecting Mexico's sovereingnty. On the contrary, for at least three decades the mexican legislators have been on a rampage disassembling any and all protections the constitution had to safeguard mexican guarantees and rights. The job is almost finished. Soon we will be able to discard both chambers; the Senate and the lower house and move a skeleton crew of highly paid message boys to the american chamber of commerce and a few high officials to Washington D.C. and NYC to note down the requirements of the owners of the southern protectorate of the U.S.

I know... It is unlikely that the legislators will pass a law closing their premises. It is a profitable business to translate into Spanish the commands given in English by the masters of the land. If only for that reason, Senators and representatives will keep on warming their seats, raising their hands to "approve" that which cannot be objected upon; Populate their staff with attractive hookers and useless relatives... Sometimes, as an exception, some bright aspiring master's student designing more efficient ways to interpret and to implement the Beltway's wishes. And yes, many barriers have yet to be destroyed in the extant laws so that our benevolent assimilation by our masters runs as smoothly and swiftly as possible. But in any theoretical framework, the original concept of "representation" has been cancelled.

As i write this, i know that most mexican politicians will be unable to comprehend the extent of what is laid down here: their "mastery" of the language is in the president's league of swift TOEFL cram courses to sort of manage to -stutteringly- address the masters in their own language both to please and amuse them; To please since it delivers a widely announced capitulation of any independent act or thought; and to amuse since... well... it IS funny as hell.

But this lack of understanding runs much deeper than a plain language barrier. Today's mexican elite has entered a land of doublethink and doublespeak. They know for a fact that theirs is an extremely tiny bubble of privilege. That their dependence on the security muscle of their armies and unified police commands is complete: without it they would fall prey to kidnappers, narcos, or angry crowds of destitute mexicans. Therefore they layer their fragile bubble with  several coats of soldiers, policemen, and finally, armed escorts and bodyguards. And these layered security measures extend to their homes, cars and offices, where high walls, electrified fences, digital scans, barbed wire, Kevlar and armored cars separate them from the rabble.

This protected environment creates a mental gap between what they think might be "mexicano" to what the rabble outside the shield thinks. They have a remote idea of what "minimum wage" ($5USD a day) means but they have no emotional connection to the hardship it entails. They gaze upon the landscape populated by dozens of different tribes and puzzle over the mystery of their willingness to survive and live and endure according to their own customs... -one tough egg to crack, those chiapanecos and oaxaqueños squatting on top of a mineral wealth that soon will have to be exploited. How is it that yaquis have managed to survive? in the near future they will have to be wiped out and put in their rightful place: museums, for the landscape they populate will soon have to be "developed" by the lords of the land sitting in their bunkers in the mythical "Washington D.C."

These "Bubble boys", -the mexican elite- are truly clueless about the development of a distinct national character far removed from their globalization dreams; They are abysmally ignorant of the fact that in the basement of their palaces and castles and haciendas there are small hidden icons to San Nazario, lord of the Templars of Michoacán, small statuettes of "la Santa Muerte" to which their servants pray, or to Jesús Malverde to which their bodyguards invoke protection. The bubble boys of the mexican elite grow behind the high walls of privilege and then on their youth are sent abroad to study México from afar, to garner their doctorates in M.I.T. Harvard, Yale... Perhaps to be inducted as junior partners in Skull & Bones; perhaps to learn the ropes of their link to "real power". This elite is as mexican as a burger king with jalapeño (not too much).

La Santa Muerte

San Nazario de Michoacán

Santo Jesús Malverde de Sinalóa

This 15th of September, the bubble boys will appear on the balcony of Palacio Nacional or the assorted State seats of power, well sheltered behind thick bulletproof crystal. they will go through the moves of hailing the founding fathers. They will gaze down upon the sea of mexican resentment looking back at them, Both sides acting out a worn down script, hollow of any real meaning. the big difference in this bulletproof divide of haves and have-nots being that down in the Zócalo people will be celebrating their own identity, in Spanish. The bubble boys will be celebrating the mastery with which they enact the play designed to mask the rape of the country, in Spanglish.

Three and a half miles away from tonight's "El Grito" in Mexico city's "Zócalo"; The god's prison, also known as "Museo de Antropología e Historia" The place where all the ancient names associated to the sun, to the rain, to fertility, to war; will sit silently, dimly lit inside. The  stone and emerald inmates in their respective cells dreaming of the past and of the future; of the centuries when they were the guardians of the land and the coming time when the doors will be flung open for them to reclaim what was theirs. Yes, it will be a wasteland, a slag heap of discarded mineral; yes, it will be a glowing, dry, radioactive bone of a land. But from those humble and emaciated remains they will rebuild: the plumed serpent will finally defeat the imperial eagle.