Boreal Summer over, but in the South there's fire burning.

As the Americanos and Euros prepare for yet another season of being fleeced and tricked before another Election Year in the USA, Argentina fans flames that the usual suspects wish would die.

Yes, I am a woman who constantly thinks about the Roman Empire. Why? We live there.

If you follow me on former Twitter, now X, you might already know about pop Libertarian Argentine presidential candidate Javier Milei. As it is, he is an unlikely champion for so-called right-wing ideas, yet like everyone else who doesn’t toe the line of the establishment, he has been immediately branded the N word. No, not that one. Not the one that could send you to an early grave if you uttered it in certain locations of the Great Country Up North. The Other N, the one that died in 1945 but was resurrected as the greatest evil of the current civilization, dethroned Satan himself. I don’t imagine the Great Adversary takes his demotion in stride, but that’s another subject altogether.

Back to the subject, because I digress. Javier Milei has been positioned next to all the unruly populist boy club members: Trump, Bolsonaro, Orban, and now new enemy Elon Musk (there are some women, like Italian Meloni and Spanish Isabel Díaz Ayuso, but when women don’t swim left, we achieve the true equality of being treated as unkindly as men).

So we have established that the emergence of Milei is already a “no,no” to those who believe themselves to be Masters of the Universe and the only ones allowed to rule. Which is why I, evidently, support him. My nose always informs me of the way the wind blows, and whoever is repulsive to evil anti-human advocates will always be my choice.

Another reason I support him is that he signals the end of the Boomer Order, which turned Argentina into a vassal state without sovereignty and dispensing constant humiliations towards true blue argentines who love football, asado and wine, worship God above, and the fertile Pampas soil. Despite the lamentations of my mother, who is a good person yet naive, we do not need more “nice” speakers in cute little top hats who speak the proper pieties of the Progressive religion. Those are the exact types whose diatribes convinced her generation to sell their souls for nothing.

Young people, who have fire in their guts, are saying no more. They were, like Bane, born in darkness, while Boomers merely adopted it—that darkness that they brought upon us. It was their hubris that made the 1970s a war zone, because some uppity privileged communists wanted to play Revolution. A revolution that nobody asked for and that innocents paid in blood. And yet, these criminals had the gall to continue the same war through different means, draining the coffers that belonged to all of us to enrich themselves. And then, to add insult to injury, they inserted themselves in every single institution to remake everything in their image when more and more children became destitute and died.

Zoomers, who were born under the boot of deranged ideologues intent on never letting go of their nostalgia, endured poverty so that the zealots could continue living lavish lives, rewarding their families and friends until they became nobility, making all the rest peasants in their wake. They had to also endure the millennial zealotry that always demanded gibs and benefits for their cause célèbres. And made everyone pay for them. And it was always “back of the line” for their wants and needs.

And then came the coup de grâce, the pandemic lockdowns, closing everything down, stopping the world, and stealing their lives. Not for months, but years. Imagine you were a 14-year-old boy in 2020, prevented from going outside of the house because there is a virus that doesn’t affect you at all, forced inside and seated in front of a computer, attending lessons with a “feminist” curriculum designed by a hard-left political party that only gets 1% of the votes yet is allowed to decide what 100% of the children must learn. A curriculum that states that you, because you were born a boy, are a murderer and rapist, deemed evil from cradle to grave. Oh, and if you don’t happen to have a dusky complexion or a dubious understanding of your own gender and sexuality, you’re double or triple bad. Imagine living that way. Imagine that level of oppression!

And then, readers will come to me and notice my "omissions," and they will be critical of this humble personal screed that attempts to explain why Milei. Yes, Milei screams and is loud; yes, he subscribes to some foolish notions in geopolitical strategy and still believes in the remnants of the Cold War. Yes, Milei admires one of the few communities that was able to thrive a little better in Argentina than the rest, but I assure you that they also paid in blood, and they are part of our “body politik” more than those who play from their safe havens up North. Yes, I am talking about the fancy ideologues who, from places like Essex, Ivy League American colleges, or La Sorbonne, mock those of us who actually live here. They are the heirs of Gríma, son of Gálmód, who we know as the Wormtongue.

So, you see, I am selling nothing; I do not advocate for a perfect paladin. I advocate for standing with the young who want to live instead of the old, who would take the young to an early grave if only for another day, just one more day. Their recipes have failed, and their light has waned. And Eros must defeat Thanatos in the land of silver once and for all.

Milei’s name seems to have a Hungarian origin, he comes along with a beautiful Boudicca styled warrior lady called Victory.

Can we dream a little dream?

Even if it doesn’t happen, even if we fail, this is the fabric a mythical quest is made of.

And I want to ride.

PS: If some references in these little scribblings seem obscured, it is absolutely on purpose.