Sandro Castro: The Regime's Useful Idiot

There is no denying that Sandro Castro is a fool. His idiocy far outweighs any sense of shame, and his malicious behavior resembles that of a dignity-less clown on steroids. Nicknamed "Fidel's scrape," Sandro is the surviving remnant of the "new man," nurtured on his grandmother's ham sandwiches and great-uncle's caviar lollipops.

Gone are the days when he made his social media debut flaunting his German-made "toys" that ate up the highways, only to later appear regretful, still bearing the mark of a slap from a State Security officer, claiming to be a "simple person." It was late February 2021, the pandemic was upending global norms and pushing the "continuity" of the regime to its limits, dismantling the myth of the "medical powerhouse." Tensions were high, and Counterintelligence was already sensing the brewing unrest on the streets. The foreshadowing of the July 11th protests, which erupted five months later, forced State Security to reprimand the foolish grandson.

As the pandemic subsided and the world emerged from lockdown eager to celebrate, the regime showcased the "greatness of the revolution" with the production of Abdala and Soberana vaccines. The aftermath of July 11th, marked by brutal repression, instilled fear of free expression among Cubans, spurred a historic wave of migration, and led to the disconnect of virtual spaces where civil society activism had thrived, eventually returning social media to its usual frivolities.

And yet, the irredeemable fool resurfaced. Vacationing in Cayo Santa María or partying at his bar with Yomil Hidalgo, while Cuba was reeling from the Matanzas Supertanker Base fire, Sandro Castro began to baffle the public. Hadn't he been properly reprimanded? How dared he show his face again? The answer was simple: with a car trunk full of water bottles to aid those combating the fire and leading a "caravan of entrepreneurs."

Seventeen people perished in the blaze, and thousands more during the recent pandemic, with no oxygen in hospitals or medicine in pharmacies. How could this spoiled brat once again flaunt his hospitality "ventures" and act like the new Scarface, king of Havana's nightlife?

A new distraction strategy was forming. Counterintelligence saw the potential in Castro's antics to divert attention from the grievances and outrage caused by the so-called "socialist revolution," now a barren land for sale, run by a kleptocratic mafia steering towards crony capitalism, private enterprise intrusion, usufruct distribution, and rampant hotel construction.

Voilà, Sandro Castro became the "useful idiot" the regime needed to channel Cuban anger and frustration. When the electrical system collapsed, the fool was given free rein, lounging in a Siboney pool with his plastic doll showing off. And so continued Sandro's endless string of antics: shopping trips abroad, Cohiba cigars and tequila at his EFE bar, his entourage of sycophants, selfies with Lázaro, Yarelis, Santy Ogbetua, or Flor de Cuba.

Another energy crisis? Wait, wait... pull the fool from his laser hair removal session and have him announce a grand birthday bash, just watch the backlash unfold. Now a Counterintelligence asset, he no longer needs to apologize for his escapades. Now he cynically explains that as a businessman, he does what he wants with his money. "I'm celebrating like a young Cuban revolutionary."

"Long live Canel, long live the Revolution!" mumbled a green-haired dwarf with a counterintelligence surname (Bolufé), playing master of ceremonies for Sandro. For maximum effect, Cuba's Fool calls to scorn Sandro, a normalized aberration blazing a trail as a post-communist pioneer towards harsh state capitalism.

"It'll be the biggest party in years," concluded the foolish birthday boy whose mediocre social media show partially distracted from the national electrical system's collapse. "Drink like there's no tomorrow," Sandro toasted to Cubans at year-end. And that's the plan: to trap Cubans in an endless present/past loop, a "continuity" biting its own tail, with the Castro-Soto del Valle family - including a new jester named Issuan - mocking the so-called sovereign, the people with no future.

Now, in a full anal phase, Sandro plays at flipping the bird to Cubans, amusing his attending comrade, a genius likely decorated by Alejandro Castro Espín (known as El Tuerto). He does this on February 14th with two flower bouquets in hand, repeats it days later with two beer bottles while dancing a challenge with his crew singing "They not like us," laughing at the common folk.

"I thought we were about equality, but we're about inequality," Sandro declared in one of his latest broadcasts, launching the Counterintelligence's Putrump operation, where yesterday's transgressions will seem like child's play compared to tomorrow's. The next phase of the strategy unfolds, new "actors" enter the distractor stage, like Humberto López (an old hand), Manuel Anido Cuesta, and the star of La Colmenita.

Cuba, a state captured by a mafia elite, remains paralyzed, watching as an infernal abyss opens at its feet, with hotels rising left and right, while fat cats shout "we need foreign currency" and "no one will be left destitute," before dismantling the basic rationed basket and embarking on the "partial dollarization of the economy." The grotesque spectacle takes on new shades of vileness; propaganda continues its old routine in new skins.