(CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VERSION)
Sweet Jesus in a Jet Ski accident, this has been a rotten month. In the past few weeks we've learned that it'll take the CIA more than two decades to comb through all the drone footage of Afghanistan, and that Sarah Palin wasn't aware that there are two Koreas. This was also the month during which the phrase "Negro dialect" entered the lexicon; Pat Robertson blamed an earthquake on devil worship; Danny Glover blamed the same earthquake on global warming; and it was discovered that the U.S. Army was using rifles with "secret Bible codes" inscribed on them. And if that's not bad enough, the pharmacist refused to fill your prescription for Zoloft just because it was written in crayon on a hamster and because Zoloft was misspelled a couple times. Where did all the good times go?
Blame Eva Ayllón, for she, like some sort of sultry, hip-shaking multinational corporation, has apparently managed to corner the market on fun. On her new effort, kIMbafá, Ayllï¿½n whoops it up — singing, shouting, purring and generally letting us all know that she is happy to be alive — on all 17 tracks, having the sort of good time that will no doubt soon be outlawed in Tennessee, Alabama and at least three counties in Idaho. This is good Peruvian stuff: pure and uncut.
Should one person be allowed to have a monopoly on joy? That's for the some judge in The Hague to decide. The rest of us should enjoy this while we can because the months ahead don't look much brighter.