Harry Belafonte seems happy enough, bad mouthing his country and his president in efforts to prop up a failed tinhorn dictator. Hugo Chavez seems happy enough to accept Mr. Belafonte’s rhetorical nonsense, as his fortunes in Venezuela hang precipitously in the balance. The promises Dictator Chavez made can’t be delivered, and his country is headed down the drain.
Some Americans—although I venture it’s a very small number—identify with Mr. Belafonte’s ridiculous comments. After all, in this great nation you can find a few people who will agree with—literally—anything you can think up.
But the truth is that Harry Belafonte is passé. His day has come and gone. He is a one-hit wonder. Now, trying desperately to regain some degree of relevance, ol’ Harry is Day-O-ing around Venezuela, where he is known only as a performer from America. What Venezuelans don’t realize is that Harry Belafonte is irrelevant everywhere on Earth, except Venezuela. There, he is once again relevant. He is once again alive. And he’s milking every drop.
It’s sad, isn’t it; the drastic things people will do to make themselves feel like they matter?