And They All Came With Presents
Ode to the ones that sold and keep selling themselves.
This piece has been going around in circles in my head since last Friday when Colbert’s Late Show was cancelled.
And they all came with presents— gold, frankincense, myrrh— as if offering to a new god, a new messiah fresh out of the womb, a bearer of new tidings, new beginnings, and dirty pants. Pants filled with innocent cries from their indulgent abuse. They all thought they had him by the round ropes. As if piety came with a receipt. They believed, in their feeble minds, that they had scored VIP passes to enjoy the celestial 69 virgins and would gain eternal favours at the lakes by the sea-branch of paradise. Little did they suspect that, eventually, the Almighty would need more and more pacifiers. In their infinite trust, they sat back— Faithfully, obediently, whether they agreed or not— and gave their souls, their hearts, Their Netflix passwords, and their families to Beelzebub. Then, one day, the pacifier wore out. And the big troll lost his temper, threw a divine tantrum, forgot the promises he had been paid for— They weren’t written down, after all— changed his mind, and, in much delight, destroyed each one of the suckers who had traded their souls in exchange for a place on a throne where only one—an unwise one— dictates the laws of the universe. Doomed, they cried, wailed, and marched with great pomp and circumstance straight to their non-refundable demise.
May this poem be wrong. May this poem be just a joke, a satire of something that will never happen. May I look back at history and say to myself, “It didn’t repeat this time.” May this poem be just a negation of what will happen if reality takes us the way it has always been, whenever we felt in the hands of authoritarian despots.
Please watch this segment of John Stewart’s show tonight.
I hope I am wrong, very wrong.
Arnaly Arriaga Blanco - July 22, 2025
Welcome to my suitcase of memories and creativity. I’m Arnaly, a citizen of many places, and I want to share my experiences growing up in Venezuela, as well as my fun experiments in creative writing.
I became a writer the day I realized there was no more space for thoughts in my head and I needed to set them free. I write both fiction and non-fiction: in "La Maleta de Arnaly," I share my personal stories, in the section "Life Wayfaring," I write hybrid stories, allowing my imagination to roam free and blend with reality. I am a fan of Magic Realism and love to use it in my stories. In the section “The Un-Poet”, I express my feelings in the shape of, hopefully, poetry. In my newest section, “The Typewriter,” I am journaling my experience as an aspiring writer.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you can join me on my journey as I traverse the world and take you with me through my stories.
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