Caliche Caroma
Translation by: Frantz Voltura
Ever since that time at FICM 2022 when Burrén Albarrán danced mambo outside the Ramírez Family Theater (the Mariano Matamoros) and no one chucked a stuffed Doctor Simi at him, nothing interesting had happened en la ciudad de la cantera rosa, that is, of course, until his Imperial Majesty Silverio arrived. After midnight, Saturday, November 12, the Chimpancingo (chimpanzee), Guerrero native appeared to the delight of the public, mostly manchildren eager for an eyeful of famous cock and their regal fluids flowing therefrom.
Silverio’s stellar performance took place in what used to be Aguanile, a salsa place–located in La Porfiriana, at Corregidora #723, in piss-drenched downtown Morelia–across the street from another salsa place. “Musica para mongoloides” is sanctioned and approved by those who rule us; in attendance were more than a handful of current state government officials, former PRD members, and red-boned Morenistas, who danced and had fun like underlings, an adjective meaning freeloaders of the treasury and professional life jacket wearing fakers. Also present were most illustrious local journalists, slander professionals and photographers of distraction par excellence were also present.
The event, organized by MasPro (+Prö), began at 5pm. We appreciate their kindness in allowing this outfit access. Beginning the event were a series of local DJs and artists that are better forgotten. It is quite common for businessmen to want to get the most out these events, and that’s great, it’s a business, but you shouldn’t go fucking the dog either. Beers cost $110 pesos, a semi-large glass that could fit two Indios (they had worse brands as well), equally expensive was the Guacardí, which was more watered down than the cumbias of Monterrey. Let’s not even talk about bottle service, it goes without saying that the half-wit bureaucrats bought a couple, and why not?
From the back, from between the plastic tables, with a water leak in the women’s bathroom “His Imperial Majesty” could barely be seen. “His Imperial Majesty” is a nickname for Julián Lede, real name of the former member of Titán and of Los Nuevos record label with Carlos Amorales. The organizers decided to put Silverio in that corner, despite the fact that up top the place housed a stage where the salsa orchestra used to play, a space definitely more visible to everyone, but fuck it, that’s the way the money lords design things. Squeeze in a few more underlings of the caveman age with spectacle and outlandish visuals.
As soon as Silverio came out, the cell phones and cameras of the attendees made their way out, it goes without saying that everyone wanted to have the artist on record and for that privilege they happily paid between $250 and $450 pesos. As is ritual, the solitary musician began to shed his clothes as the musical hits played on (“Yepa, yepa, yepa”, “Perro”, “Caca”, etc.), until he was left in naught but red shorts. At some point in the concert he took out his penis, urinated on the auditorium, put it back in, then took it out again to put the microphone to his pisshole so that he could dedicate a few words to those present. A family atmosphere worthy of these dystopian times.
It is the fourth time that we have heard, seen, and felt Silverio, an eschatological experience in all its glory, the same one that the more skeptical Valladolid should treat themselves to. Public baths? This is a golden shower that purifies the flesh and tones the spirit, puts saliva in the eyes to better see, high nutritional value mucus in the beer, and feces in the crimson truss as a testimony that we are human, too apes: «If you want chew / Tarzan’s balls / You will have to relax / My member will light you up”.
Escritor putrefacto que deja el alma en cada tecla, a veces es grasa esa alma. Ganador dos veces consecutivas del premio «Mejor dedícate a otra cosa». En su casa lo conocen como Panchito porque baila el cha cha cha. Quiere adelgazar, pero no puede.
