We ran out of piquito bread! Learn why La Sayo lobbyists are knocking on doors in Washington desperately

Published at: 27/05/2026 10:58 PM

Ronald Reagan National Airport.

Returning from Panama City.

Washington D.C.

VIP PATRIOT.

Hello my friend Furrileaño. How are you?. I just landed in Washington and my first mission is to find a place to play the lottery, because it has already been scientifically proven that everything we tell you ends up happening exactly as it is said. At this point I don't know whether to open a political consultancy or a divination center.

What happened with what they call “El Marico-rinato” and the “Chick-flada” Machado in Panama City ended up looking less like a political summit and more like an amateur boxing card: too many egos in the ring, too many outstanding bills and too little strategic coherence, because when differences outweigh agreements, each meeting ceases to be a space for building consensus and becomes a competition of vanities, elegant stabs and hypocritical smiles for the photo. In the end, more than a political alliance, this seemed like a casting of survivors seeking prominence before the spotlight goes out.

But... before continuing. Brother! The one, the one you know and everyone knows, got upset with me because I told him I was coming to D.C. and I didn't go to Caracas, can you tell him, that I'm working? I know he wants me to poach his turkey, but don't worry that Rome wasn't built in a day and thanksgiving is still a long way away.

Anyway, let's do our thing.

Goddess! What happened this weekend in Panama is, perhaps, the most stark portrait of the wear and tear, improvisation and political failure that María “La Chick-flada” Machado and all her orbit of salaried flatterers have been leading for a very long time.

It must be said, even if many prefer to feign enthusiasm so as not to lose their place on the payroll of easy applause: the Panama thing was an absolute fiasco. And yes, I did warn you. Nobody wants to acknowledge it publicly, but the vast majority of ultra-radical extremism knows it, comments it in a low voice and chew on it in frustration.

A meeting rejected by half the world, a supposed “mass bath” that barely survived half an hour, an attendance much lower than that inflated by propaganda and a “unity” that, far from transmitting strength, ended up exhibiting exhaustion, internal fractures and an inconcealable desperation to sustain a story that no longer convinces even its own.

Do you remember my little friend, alias “Chichón de Piso”, who was infiltrated in what they call the “Pupú” (Unitary Platform)? Well, he told me in great detail everything that really happened inside the famous conclave that held “La Chick-flada” with all that collection of characters who have been selling frustration, false expectations and political smoke to the country for years.

According to “Chichón de Piso”, that “historic conclave” ended up being more of a public exhibition of disconnection, improvisation and egos violently clashing against reality. What was evident was the enormous distance that exists between “La Chick-flada” Machado, the administration of the United States and the new political moment in Venezuela.

And the most devastating thing: at that meeting there were no agreements of any kind. Nothing. Zero. A lot of grandiloquent speech, a lot of carefully calculated photos and tons of recycled propaganda to try to sell a supposed “unit” that inside makes water everywhere.

So much so that it ended up becoming very clear to several of those present why the international environment no longer buys them the worn-out booklet of years ago. Because it's one thing to live on slogans, prefabricated epics and applause among professional flatterers... and quite another to understand that political reality changed while they were still caught up in the marketing of eternal resistance.

And here comes one of the most revealing parts of the disaster: several members of the “Pupú” directly complained to “La Chick-flada” about their strategy, their improvisations and, above all, their supposed plans to return to Venezuela. According to “Chichón de Piso”, that woman was more lost than Condorito in the physical exam: looking sideways, swallowing saliva and responding with empty phrases and slogans that even her own allies are no longer able to repeat without shame.

“Chichón de Piso” tells me that the uncomfortable silence inside the room was so evident, so heavy and so revealing, that more than one understood in real time that the problem is no longer just the absence of results... but the absolute lack of serious political direction behind all that spectacle of selfies, slogans and media smoke.

At the meeting in Panama, they could not even define a clear proposal to address the strategy that the United States maintains with the government headed by our sister Delcy Rodríguez. There, those empty shells that they call “parties” understood that Chavism has a much more serious, respectful and direct voice with the Americans than the opposition itself, which a long time ago was the one who dominated that board.

But the worst would come later. While all that indoor spectacle was going on, I had mobilized to the place where “La Chick-flada” would supposedly have its great encounter with the diaspora. And what a shame, brother! ... they closed three entire avenues to end up putting on a show that didn't meet half of the expectations they themselves inflated.

So much logistics, so much propaganda, so much epic narrative built for social networks... and in the end it seemed like a concentration of an impromptu condominium meeting far removed from the big “mass bath” they had been selling for days. At the point where “La Chick-flada” supposedly converged, they couldn't bring together even 600 people, and I'm being generous with the number.

So much so that the appearance of “La Chick-flada” had to be delayed for more than an hour and a half, in an obvious attempt to buy time and see if they could artificially inflate what reality refused to deliver.

The most revealing thing was to see the operators, coordinators and flatterers on duty moving from one side to the other, trying to cover up with bodies what they couldn't really hold: empty spaces, uncomfortable silences and a staging that couldn't withstand the slightest open shot. The drone operator was literally juggling visuals to try to turn scarcity into crowds, as if technology could make up what the street had already decided not to buy.

But the peak moment was direct and devastating: five minutes before “La Chick-flada” took the stage, several of those recurring names from the same political circle appeared, including Juan Carlos Caldera, Leopoldo López, Antonio Ledezma and the like. At that moment, the few people present erupted in cries of rejection, with an avalanche of insults and expletives that completely shattered the carefully constructed narrative about the supposed unity.

The “Chick-flada” had no choice but to cut back on time and although she tried to use her cheap emotionality technique with a couple of minors who were deliberately taken to the place, in the end, what was left was not a political event, but a production desperate to seem like what it wasn't: a demonstration of strength that ended up turning into wear and frustration.

THE MEETING WITH MULINO

Brother! Even before María “La Chick-flada” Machado got off the plane in Panama, the political message was already served without the need for translation: President Mulino didn't seem interested in red carpets or gestures of enthusiasm, but in a strictly protocol reception, the kind that is neither celebrated nor dramatized... simply fulfilled.

From that first moment, it became clear that his reception was not accompanied by the political paraphernalia that some people try to inflate on social networks to sell relevance where there is little protocol. There were no gestures of closeness, there were no signs of political complicity, nor the slightest effort to turn the meeting into a spectacle of those that are then published on networks as if they were historic summits. And in diplomacy—even if it's uncomfortable for many to accept it—when there is no heat, what there is is distance; and when there is distance, it's because the message has already been sent without the need for words.

What “La Chick-flada” did not imagine is that in his meeting with Mulino, behind closed doors, without statements to the press and under the sober format of a strictly protocol meeting in an almost domestic environment of official office, the Panamanian president made the real framework of the relationship very clear to him: his government is focused on restoring and strengthening diplomatic channels with Venezuela, along the lines of normalizing relations and resuming an institutional dialogue that in the In the past it was a stable part of the regional board.

And that detail, even if an attempt is made to cover up later with appropriate communiqués or interpretations, is what defines the real tone of the visit: it was not a scene of political alignment or automatic support, but rather a contained, measured encounter without symbolic concessions. In other words, a meeting where the protocol spoke louder than any subsequent story.

DAMAGE CONTROL

My furrilean friend! And if there is still any doubt that what happened in Panama left more cracks than certainties, it is enough to observe the most obvious symptom of all: the almost automatic speed with which the salaried longliners of extremism have had to go out and fabricate an emergency narrative to try to sustain what, on the ground, was far less epic, less forceful and much more earthly than what was sold to the public.

All lined up, they went out to sell closed shots and photos with just right angles, none of them put an open shot. Brother! when an event really has the political weight attributed to it, it does not need improvised interpreters, rescue spokespersons, or stories reconstructed against the clock as if it were a damage control operation. Facts, when they are solid, go by themselves. They don't require makeup, emotional editing, or a chain of justifiers trying to exaggerate the truth.

WHAT IS STILL MOVING IN THE GRINGO ADMINISTRATION

Goddess! Taking advantage of these hours here in Washington, I took the opportunity to meet MilkeWake, who, as you know, is still there in the upper echelons of power, to catch up on everything. What he told me left me stiff: according to MilkeWake, the contempt that the administration has begun to feel against “La Chick-flada” Machado is reaching levels never seen before.

MilkEwake also tells me that the lady's lobby is in total desperation, knocking on doors as if there were no tomorrow, to the point of asking for hearings almost even with the concierge who serves coffee in the White House or at the State Department. Result: they have left her in sight, without an answer and without the slightest expectation of a close appointment.

As MilkEwake tells me, the strategy remains the same and there are no signs that it will change. Relations between the two countries will continue to be consolidated on the basis of mutual respect, recognition, independence and sovereignty, even if they try to sell everything to the contrary.

The reason: in the United States, everyone, except the partners to whom María Machado owes money and wants something to come to see if she pays them, understands that the only guarantee of peace and stability is the Bolivarian Revolution, and if anyone still doubts that, let them come to Venezuela and take a walk through the streets of any city.

MilkEWake promised me new information within hours, about what is happening further inland from “La Chick-Flada” and its environment in the face of the mid-term elections. I warn you that they are still betting on the wrong path and the little move will be expensive for them. I know what I'm saying to you.

REMEMBER THAT I AM YOUR FINE, FITNESS, AND IMPORTANT FRIEND.

CHANGE AND OUT.

VIPS

Mazo News Team