Double Whammy

Dear friends and allies,

As it is widely known in social circles of the District, albeit the less well connected do not, I remain banished in the land of Argentina. Here the soil soaks in the blood of cattle and good intentions of men; while beef eating Argentinos and Argentinas roast the flesh of a Hereford for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Tea time is reserved for facturas and mostly mate.

It is hard for a corn bred, red blooded American like me to live in a land so wild teeming with tricksy people who abuse my kindheartedness at every turn. It's like good ole Charley E, a real redneck from Kansas told me once

"Whut yoo gonna ghaw doo dawn dere, Mahrn, buoy? Yoo ain't goa no bidness in them Soudamerica! Yoo Amrkn' as apple pah! Mo'even."*

Sure wish I'd followed your advice, ole Charly boy. Never will forget those red cheeks and shoulders, after a full day's labor, when you said it. What truth you spoke! Even in your limited intelligible ways.
Them Argies, they ain't got no decorum. They tell me that lady called Cristina is the president of the land, but no, sir, it is sarcasm which presides over the executive, no doubt.

The real antic down here seems to be telling foreigners that really they're Argies. Even the good boys at the American Embassy seem to be in on it. Maybe they've caught on to the locals and are merely trying to extort some money out of me.
Visa? I'm from McLean, VA! Be it as it may, I can't get back home. My passport gone I've managed to move in with some people who lost a son some time ago who had an uncanny resemblance with me. It is spooky, my word on it.

In good American fashion, I refuse to surrender to this situation. Something about a wild thing, one of our great poets said. Not as eloquent myself. I'm on my feet, getting out on the streets and spreadn' the good word about democracy, the free markets and, yes, Baseball (the oxidizing element of democracy, if one might). I feel confident that in no time this will be a fledgling republic full of honest hard working people. No time, I tell you.

My stories will be recorded here, on this world wide web log in hopes that some kindhearted border officer, maybe my congressman or even the President himself might see it to it that the tribal leaders of Argentina secure my passage back home. Until then, my job is to unleash the American inside every one of these South Americans who crosses my path.
Sadly, you may never know, Charley, unless my return occurs, since

"Der ain't no 'wah-fah' in Kansas, bwah! Nah git da heck outta hir befaw yoo catch'a beat'n!"**

as you used to say.

How long will it be? That is for time to decide.

--------------------------

Idiomatic clarifications and footnotes:

I've taken the liberty to elucidate for the city folk through foot-notes what that voice from the heartland so illuminatingly preached:
*"What will you do in the Sudlands of the sub-continent, Martin, my lad. There is nothing for you to do in South America! Have you not been following The Economist (r) ? You are as American as a Coolidge or a Lodge! Even more so, in fact."
**"There is no Wi-Fi coverage in the corn fields. This I sternly, and a little agitatedly, point out."

http://www.economist.com/countries/Argentina/ For those of you unfamiliar with the terrain and in need of a refresher from an irreproachable source. Charley has in fact never read The Economist (r), but his remark implies a truth so widely known and correct that the only way to express it was through referencing something which might have been read in The newspaper.