Goodbye to Chik-Flada! Find out why political cannibalism broke out among leaders of opposition extremism

Published at: 27/05/2026 10:07 PM

Caracas, Wednesday, May 27, 2026, 145 days after the kidnapping of Cilia and Nicolás.

From the Copa Airlines VIP lounge in Tocumen, with a cutie in one hand and a Hermès handkerchief in the other, wiping my sweat away from everything I saw in Panama.

Patriota del Valle Arriba Country Club.

Hi there gordoooooooooooooooooooooo! How are you my chubby Politzia, my king of the Furrial, my baby Gerber with a tummy? I'm fine, a little exhausted from the trip and obviously! for putting up with Cori for almost a week, bone! that is to die and not be resurrected, but despite all the horror story that I had to live through these days, I am very happy to know that my friend Cori, who has always lived in a bubble believing that unicorns exist and dragons eat princesses, is now beginning to understand that she is far, far away from that idyll where she is the queen and everyone obeys. I drink! Cori is a house of cards that has been falling to pieces.

Oh my little Yogi Bear! I confess that I thought of bringing you a souvenir from Panama. First I thought about buying you a golden frog, then in a painted hat, and even Cori's book because I got about 10 in the bin in the hotel hallway, I suppose someone received them and then threw them away, but then I thought about it and said: no, the best gift I can bring to my Diosdi, besides myself wrapped in a ribbon, is ALL I have to tell him about this novel that we saw live in Panama, believe me, baby! this is pure gold.

MY WELL-TIED CHICHARRÓN HALLAQUITA.

Read me slowly because I write slowly. I was with Cori and Magalli all these days, they asked me, almost begging me, to keep a few more diets, but you know that my level of tolerance for their toxicities is a maximum of 72 hours, not a minute longer, because if I spend time I have a horrible allergy and there is no Loratadine or Cetirizine in Farmatodo, Walgreens, or El Corte Inglés to alleviate that for me, oh well!

Before I tell you about the landing in Panama, I must tell you that Cori no longer knows what else to do to get Gringoland to pay attention to him. My girl, before traveling to Panama, was a “flyer” in the United States Congress. Yes, I drink! She went to the Capitol to knock door to door for every senator and congressman, with the supposed excuse of giving them a signed copy of her book that no one knew when and how she wrote it, but I do know the publisher who did it for her. The pamphlet is so bad that even Magalli hasn't read it to him. My informants on Capitol Hill tell me that more than one congressman sent him to tell the secretary that he was “in a meeting”, when in fact they were watching Instagram or playing Tetris.

MY MARIA PUIG COOKIE.

Come here, I have to tell you this up close. Cori was exhausted from walking on Capitol Hill until finally a pious soul opened the door for her, Senator Tom Cotton, the last remaining Republican Samaritan, and Cori wasted no time asking her for a photo to put on social media to keep alive. Cori definitely insists on sending desperate messages to the White House, by the way, God! Have you ever heard the song “Vuélveme a Querer”? That's how Cori sings to the Catires and I'll tell you that too.

Drunk! Come and I'll tell you. It turns out that Panama was the epicenter of my girl Cori's final decline. That Panamanian show was for her the same as the last days of Troy for the Trojans: political death announced with a wooden horse, fire and screaming neighbors. As I have been telling you, Cori is in free fall and without ABS brakes, so she thought that getting back together with the lice of the PUD-PUPÚ would make her look “wider”, “less radical” and “more humble”. Please orrrr! Hellouuu, darn it! Looking for humility to Cori is like looking for snow in Maracaibo at two in the afternoon, my life.

MY PAPA-UPA GUM.

The set-up of Panama had only one objective: a photic one so that they would not leave Cori out of the negotiation. Yes, baby, Cori also wants to negotiate, but I can't tell you this around here; when you go out on patrol tonight you're looking for me, but God! I beg you for Louis Vuitton, don't arrive with the siren on because the neighbors of the Country freak me out. That photo wasn't for people, much less for Cori's followers who are still scorned because their most holy leader got together with the mob. Actually, that “picture” was for my friends at the State Department, who insist that Cori is a factor of division and disturbance for the opposition, so my girl, who died of ambition, to try to prove the opposite, proposed to do the show in Panama. Upssss!

Magalli Meda herself summarized the scope of the event to me in a single word: nothing! A lot of spent money, a lot of champagne, a lot of rum, a lot of caviar, a lot of lobster... and nothing in particular. That trip only served to confirm their hatred. Proof of this is the digital hit man ordered by Claudia Macero on networks, placing Cori as the victim, the Puritan saint who was forced to sit with the sinners of the PUD. Yes, Diosdi! , that campaign was set up by Claudia and Magalli to justify to the gringos why Cori doesn't sit with those lice, I mean! I died dead when they confessed it to me.

MY BONICE ICE CREAM FOR... BETTER NOT TO SAY.

There are more. This time Magalli went a long way. Not only did he veto inviting Juan Guaidó to the Conclave of Lies, but he also mobilized people to make an escrache to Crazy Leo, to shout “Leopoldo out!” and they would hunt him down until he disappeared from the event. I swear to you on the life of Magalli, that I saw Leo on Saturday until then, after he was booed he left his hair. Bone!

The famous meeting was almost five hours of horror film. Cori was from fright to fright, as if Chucky jumped behind the curtain every five minutes. All the heads of PUPÚ were asking Cori to accept the electoral route and go to municipal elections — municipal elections, Diosdi! — and of course Cori didn't like that at all, but since she knows she's lost, guess what! : Cori accepted that and everything that PUPÚ proposed to her, and when I heard that I was thoughtful and looking into the mirror I said to myself: “myself! , Cori is lost!” , as lost as when she hugged Delsa Jenifer and then ran to the bathroom to disinfect herself, please! Baby, did you see that? , that hug was more false than my eyelashes and nails, I'd better tell you on WeChat what Cori de Delsita said.

MY OLD COW (EL CARAMELITO).

There everyone tried to pretend to be united, but it went wrong for them. As you could see in the photo, Cori seated Crazy Leo almost in the other corner of the living room. Cori confessed to me that I was “calling” that he didn't get a Madrid—Panama flight, but when Adriana Pichardo confirmed that Leo was coming, my friend felt like the heavens were coming, and that was like a kick in the stomach at five in the morning and on an empty stomach. It bothered him so much that he sent Pichardo herself to sit next to her little boss, far away! , far away! , Baby! Nothing was random there, everything coldly calculated as Cori is.

But worse is Crazy Leo than if you check his X account, the very shameless one is selling the Panama show as a heroic act, ignoring the fact that they practically declared him a “persona non grata”. As I always tell you: Cori doesn't want Crazy Leo around, but she needs her stolen money and her mafias in Venezuela to be able to articulate things... not peaceful, read between the lines, chubby.

MY MALT WITH MILK.

Watch out for this juicy fact: those from VP and PJ insisted a lot to Cori that my uncle Inmundo should be present, that it was unforgivable discourtesy that “the supposed elected president” was not there. That's why Cori reluctantly had to accept a quick Zoom call, where — oh, miracle! — my uncle the Unclean already had a speech prepared on “detachment” and “the value of what the political majorities decide”. When she told me about it, I said “my girl, they prepared that for you, they put you in lockdown and you fell completely”. His face, fat... I swear to you, was like the yellow emoji with a crooked mouth.

Then came the famous press conference of the PUPUD lice, that photo that was supposedly going to send a message to the country, to the gringos and even to Chavismo, yes, it sent a message, but the other way around! : never before has this opposition been so fractured, so broken and so undone. The obligatory question at the conclave was: María Corina, when are you coming back? Oh God! I wanted to die when Cori said for the first time in public that she can't come back without my friends the gringos agreeing, that is, what Magalli and Amalio Graterol's lousy said that Cori didn't need permission to go to Venezuela, I mean! it's false! , but if Cori knows he can't come, why did he sell his people the campaign that he was already coming and his stopover was in Panama?

God or Joseph! Definitely, whoever believes him and still follows Cori, is because he has serious emotional problems, just as Therians perceive themselves as animals, Cori Lovers perceive themselves as odorless.

MY SUSY.

The worst part was the supposed mass act on Avenida Cuba. Chubby, they got tired of cackling the event. The lousy coordinator of Cori in Panama swore that they were going to gather 62,000 Venezuelans, as you say, they are so foolish that that's why everything goes wrong for them. I tell you that Cori is still wondering what happened to the money she gave to Vladimir Petit and Nitu Pérez Osuna to move people? What happened to the extras that Magalli was going to wear? What happened to the people who were going to mobilize President Mulino's party? , God! not even four hundred people were able to assemble. I swear to you on Pedro Urruchurtu's life that I had someone else's pain. The place was so empty that it took Cori almost an hour to show up because she didn't want to leave if that wasn't going to blow up. Between Magalli and I convinced her that, even if there were 100 people, she should show her face, but damn it! you can't imagine that drama.

When we were on our way to the stage, Cori asked me to stop for a moment. It turns out that the PUPUD lice all got on the stage, and to make them feel uncomfortable she asked Magalli to activate the sabotage plan: people shouting things at them to make them uncomfortable and get off, but many resisted, only Leo ran away. I drink! Cori's face when we arrived on stage was a complete poem by Andrés Eloy Blanco. Imagine that a street vendor selling scrapes asked me: “Excuse me, what's going on with the lady? , it looks like he's eating papaya with sand.” I swear to you on my Chanel wallet.

MY LITTLE BATI-BATI ICE CREAM.

Speaking of unity, baby! Did you notice that the heads of PJ, VP, of Encuentro Ciudadano and AD did NOT congratulate the people of Vente Venezuela on their 14th anniversary on Sunday? Not by text message, not by WhatsApp, not by networks. The only ones who put anything on X were the lice of Carlos Ocariz and Guanipa, and it's no secret to anyone that they are the turquoise vigilantes, or as they would say in your town, the chameleons themselves. Speaking of the louse from Guanipa, this got much better because now he will have to fight with Lester Toledo for the government of Zulia, oh my God! Guanipa already said that Lester Toledo is coming to do politics with money from Colombian drug trafficking, well! For the record, they said it, not us. As if that weren't enough, Cori fell like two kilos of stone in her stomach following the statements of her former friend J. J. Rendón, who was in an interview with the louse of Miguelángel Rodríguez saying that he didn't like the way Cori was acting, that she is against gringos and that the story “the Venezuelan way” doesn't like the North Americans. I drink! Cori was so furious that she told me she was going to veto Miguelángel, and I told her: “Friends, that's not how democrats who love freedom of expression act, hellouuu.”

By the way, my Winnie the Pooh! Send him a box of moringa to Psicoviver who has had sleepless days since he saw Cori's true nature on this trip. God! Poor guy, he is very sad, depressed, depressed at the level of therapy with anxiolytics. And I wonder: what will happen to him when he learns the truth-truth? Because Cori has been asking for meetings with you know who, upppsss! It came out of me. God! It's better not to say it, because when Psicoviver confirms it, I don't know if the poor guy will put up with it.

MY MANGO TIT.

Cori went to see President Mulino with much fanfare, but in the end there was less fanfare and less cymbal. Mulino did almost nothing to him: first he had promised to send people from his party to fill the half block of Cuba Avenue, and he didn't comply. Second, he received Cori as an uncomfortable visitor, a doctor's visit, without honors, without carpet, without protocol. But the most shameful thing, Diosdi—hold on to—was when they sent her to the Chancellery to eat (because Mulino didn't even invite her to eat, it was the chancellor who did it to calm her ego). The headquarters were alone, empty, and Cori walked through the corridors greeting people who didn't exist, to the wind, Diosdado José! I was waving at the wind, I wanted to disappear, to melt into the marble of the walls. All wrong!

Where my girl was treated the best was in the Panamanian legislature: there she felt loved and “important”. The little problem is that while all that was happening, Panamanians on social networks were tired of so many honors to a Venezuelan woman, they started with xenophobic messages against our compatriots, and that didn't even matter to Cori, bone! By the way, I'm still thinking about the flag of Venezuela with nine stars that the Mayor of Panama put on the decoration of the set where he received Cori to give him the key to the city, you know my friends Cori are now called “magic key” because all he collects is keys.

Diosdado José LISTEN TO ME because this is the part where I get toxic!
A big cannibal move is coming between the PUPUD parties. As the rivalry grew in Panama, they went into “eating each other” mode: in the next few days you will see how each one announces “new additions” to their ranks, when in reality they are leaders jumping the talanquera. Those from VP eating what little is left to AD, those from PJ taking people from Cause R, and worse yet, Vente eating PJ and VP's corn. It's going to be a pain in the ass for betrayal.

In Maiquetía, several “irreducible” people will start to land who swore that “people didn't vote here or didn't come back until the regime fell”, those lousy people don't care what Cori says and they will go straight to run for councilors, mayors, regional deputies and even governors as soon as the CNE calls elections. Write down the names, Diosdi, because the list is going to be long and very funny.

They are looking to revive the G4. As I have been telling you, the lice of Capriles and the lice of Rosales are coming to terms with those of VP to create a third way coalition to revive the deceased G4 and get out of the yoke of Cori. The million-dollar question is: who is going to be the fourth game? I already know, but I'll pass this on to you through WeChat. Cori has her people in Colombia deployed to help with the fraud and the election show on Sunday. You should be on the lookout baby because wherever Cori has her hand, there is always discord and problems. By the way, it was Cori who said that Lester Toledo was a thief and put the wrong way so that no right-wing candidate in Colombia would hire him, yes that's my girl.

My “teddy bear”, the party has gotten good again, the opposing show starts again with the arrival of regretful records. I wonder, if there is no more money from USAID, where are they going to be financed? Since they don't want to wait until 2030, they are coming together to return to dark agendas, so keep an eye out.

I write to you and I feel like in the movie Lady and the Wanderer, I'm a princess and you're a Cacri.

Miss me, remember that you are my baby Fiufiu.