…I always sing it to the tune of “Rico Suave.” It fits very well. You don’t have to squint much to see his dopey little beret as a do-rag. And can’t you just picture him primping in the mirror for a night out with the ladies like the Latino lovemonger you just know he is?
He’s positioned himself nicely as the next loudmouthed Latin American lunatic, for after Fidel’s insides finally eat him up in the next few months. ‘Cause, you know, God forbid the position go vacant.
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