You're not going! Find out why the Chik-Flada stayed as a bride in town

Published at: 11/03/2026 09:22 PM

March 11th, 2026.

Arturo Merino Benítez International Airport.
Arriving after more than 12 hours of travel.
Santiago de Chile, Chile.

Hello my friend Furrialeño!!. How are you? I confess that these last 12 hours have been a real test of survival. I had the dubious privilege —or rather the punishment—of sharing a plane with María “La Chick-Flada” Machado, Magalli and the inevitable parakeet of Uchurrurtutú, an absolute disaster! Imagine being locked up with that so-called “illuminated” trio at 35,000 feet high, with no escape possible and with the seat belt as the only psychological defense.

That wasn't a commercial flight, it was a chicken coop in the middle of the countryside. I didn't even save myself by being in business class because there they were, champagne after champagne, toasting as if they had just conquered the Miraflores Palace.

Twelve hours of inflated speeches and political analysis that, when you take the trouble to listen to them carefully, seem like improvised theories on the table of a conspiracy café. At that height - and I'm not just talking about the 35,000 feet - what was truly surprising was not the noise, but the ability to inflate the ego without the cabin losing pressure.

Anyway, let's get down to business, because the last few days have been the worst for extremism.

Brother! Definitely “La Chick-Flada” Machado doesn't hit one. It goes from star to star and, at this rate, all it needs is to juggle at a traffic light to see if anyone — even out of curiosity or sheer pity — pays a little attention to it and gives it back the feeling that it still has some political relevance.

What happened last Friday still has her with a nervous tic that is difficult to disguise. And it's no wonder: when reality breaks the script you've been trying to sell for months, all that's left is to improvise, overact and repeat worn-out slogans as if they were part of a master plan. All this after the captain Donald Trump received it again, but this time in a totally discreet format, without reflectors, without major announcements and rather out of mere protocol courtesy.

Our friend MilkeWake, who is still comfortably seated in the upper echelons of power in Washington D.C., told me in great detail what really happened. According to MilkEwake, Machado arrived at the White House after multiple, insistent and almost desperate efforts to receive it.

She entered convinced that the world was obliged to please her whims, with that air of a spoiled girl who believes that it is enough to insist enough to have the door of the Oval Office opened for her. What I couldn't imagine was the bucket of cold water I would end up receiving as soon as the conversation began.

According to MilkEWake, the meeting really didn't exceed 15 minutes, that's the real truth. That story that they are now selling that the meeting lasted 90 minutes may be true... but only if that account includes the long time she spent sitting in the anteroom, waiting for Donald Trump to finish important things to receive it.

When they finally made it pass, Trump started straight, bluntly, very much in his style. From the first minute, Catire made it clear to him, according to MilkeWake, that he would recognize the Government of Venezuela and its president in charge Delcy Rodríguez.

MilkEwake says that, when “La Chick-Flada” heard that, her face changed into a poem, but not exactly one of celebration. Rather in one of those tragic poems, where the protagonist discovers—too late—that the story he had been telling with such certainty does not match reality.

Right there, they would have released the sentence that ended up ruining the afternoon of the nutcase: neither Edmundo nor she is a government, and that it is advisable to stop selling that narrative because that is not how Washington is seeing things.

But the meeting didn't end there. As MilkEwake tells me, Trump himself took advantage of the meeting to send him a fairly clear warning, although wrapped in the usual diplomatic language of these meetings, according to the informant Trump let María Corina know that Venezuela is going through a delicate phase of political and economic stabilization, and that any movement that alters that board will complicate that process.

Translated into less elegant language from the corridors of Washington, what they said to María Crina was: “this is not the time for political adventures, nor for dramatic returns to Caracas.” Brother, at that time - according to those who were on the scene - the ChikFlada was practically split in two.

In that face to face. The Trump cabal confirmed his brief, dry and lapidary message, summarized in three words that weighed more than any speech: “You're not going”

And there's another detail that wasn't minor either. The “Chick-Flada” would also have read the card for their insistent and irresponsible demand to demand elections Now! , I'll leave the story to you so as not to compromise MilkeWake.

In other words, the message was quite simple: international politics doesn't work on whims, heroic stories, or heated press conferences. But it seems that extremism still has a hard time understanding it.

LABORATORIES AND RECOGNITION Diosdado

! You can imagine that demons were unleashed with Trump's recognition of the Venezuelan government. Real chaos broke out in the media laboratories of extremism who had no way of explaining what happened.

Suddenly, everyone threw themselves into a kind of desperate competition to see who could manufacture the most bombastic epic. A frantic race to rewrite what happened, embellish it, inflate it and present it as irrelevant. All with a fairly transparent objective: to activate an information mitigation operation that would make it possible to soften —or at least disguise— the political impact of Trump's statements recognizing the Government of Venezuela and Delcy Rodríguez.

What followed was a pretty predictable spectacle. Improvised spokespersons, second-hand analysts and professional thinkers came out in droves to repeat the same communicational choreography: reinterpreting what was said, looking for suitable twists to each sentence and, if necessary, inventing a parallel narrative where what was actually a bucket of cold water would harm María Corina and her entourage as little as possible.

In other words, the old trick as always: when reality doesn't fit the story, another story is fabricated. The problem - as is often the case in these cases - is that when too many “laboratories” work at the same time trying to correct the same story, what ends up appearing is a disordered chorus of excuses, contradictions and epics that trample on each other.

TRUMP IN THE AREPAZO Brother

! Speaking of contradictions, those who were also left staring at the ceiling and chewing frustration were the supposed Venezuelan exiles of “Doralzuela” when the catire Donald Trump decided to show up at the iconic El Arepazo restaurant in Doral, that gastronomic temple that has been operating as a conspiracy center for years.

None were taken into account. The extremists of Vente Venezuela were not even invited. While some fifty guests carefully filtered between Venezuelans and Cubans entered inside, the self-proclaimed guardians of “pure and hard” exile stood outside, watching the show as if someone arrived late to a party where he was never really on the list.

And that was the scene: a lot of noise in networks, a lot of inflamed slogans and a lot of “leadership from exile” pose, but when real power sits at the table... it turns out that they didn't even save a chair for them. Because in politics, Brother, there is something worse than being wrong: believing yourself to be the protagonist and discovering that in reality you are barely public.

THE CHIK-FLADA AND WHITE-DOG

Goddess! The contempt for María “La Chick-flada” Machado already seems to have crossed borders. What used to be domestic gossip is beginning to acquire international status. The scene was exposed today during the inauguration of Chile's new president, where diplomacy — and the real weight of each lobby — spoke much more clearly than any solemn speech.

The Crazy Leo lobby ended up prevailing over Machado's. Result: “WhiteDog” was seated near the Hall of Honor of Congress, rubbing shoulders with front-line guests, while the lady was parked in a corner at the back of the room. A rather revealing postcard: some in the front row of political theater, others watching the play from the dark.

An old acquaintance of Popular Will, alias “El Mocho”, tells me that Guaidó was accommodated with Duque because, according to Colombians, the disappointment with Machado is no longer concealed. There they know that the lady is not the anointed one. And when someone tries to sell leadership without backup, improvisation smells right out the door.

The Chick-Flada, says “El Mocho”, was furious. They took all the spotlight away from him and, after the event, he had no choice but to do what he always did: run after the presidents to capture the selfie de rigor and then sell it on networks as if it were politically relevant

WHAT'S COMING! My friend Furrialeño!

Within the so-called Unitary Platform, the internal coup that they want to detonate against “Unworld” González is already beginning to cook, by the way, with a lot of anxiety. Yes, the same one that was presented as the great savior of the moment and now it seems that it has rather become an uncomfortable problem that no one knows very well how to handle.

And to top it off, their health situation doesn't help either. Because of his age, hip surgery isn't exactly a minor intervention. We are not talking about a routine office operation, but rather a process that requires recovery, care and time, three things that seem to be in short supply in politics - and especially in that ever-accelerating opposition.

So while publicly they continue to show him as the central figure of the opposing script, under the table there are already those who move certain chips. Some calculate scenarios, others prepare for the replacement and more than one sharpens their political knives waiting for the right moment to distance themselves from Edmundo and present an alternative route, because if that platform has demonstrated anything in recent years, it is a remarkable ability to manufacture leaders quickly and discard them with the same speed when they are no longer useful for the script.

Already, many in PUPÚ have had their guts opened and have been infected with “candidaturis” syndrome. They're just waiting for the moment.

For now, after Chiles I will return to Washington D.C. Let me give you a little ahead of you, on Monday La Sayo will go to María Elvira Salazar's congressional office to participate with her in a press conference with Mario Díaz-Balart. A new phase of destabilization is coming. I'll tell you.

REMEMBER THAT I AM YOUR FINE, FITNEES AND IMPORTANT FRIEND.
P.S.: TELL YOUR FRIEND TO SEE THE MESSAGE I SENT HIM.