Chicanonautica: Still Lost in Trumptopia After All These Years

by Ernest Hogan

Yippie! Our Creative Realidades: A Nonfiction Anthology was a finalist for the Next Generation Indie Book Awards in the BIPOC category. Because Chicanx/Latinx reality is so different from Anglo reality, when we honestly write about it, it gets labeled magic realism, surreal, sci-fi, and other handy distortions.

My contribution, “Lost in Trumptopia,” is a collection of posts from Chicanonautica here at La Bloga and Mondo Ernesto, reactions and observations of a certain president's first term. They are very strange and come off like a bizarre science fiction story. I assure you that it's all true, though confabulation seeps in. It's the way I process reality and how I survive in a transmogrifying world.

Psychedelic sombreros are a real thing. Honest. I see them all the time.

I know where the sci-fi ends and real life begins. I think . . .

I’m quite disturbed to find that after all these years, we are still lost in Trumptopia. We thought the monster was killed, but the corporate forces have decided that a sequel–a franchise, even–will be profitable.

I haven’t written much about the current Trumptopia–the news media is doing an okay job, though they tend to tone it all down. Like the first adventure of Captain America, where Adolph Hitler is referred to as Rudolf Hender. I guess they were afraid that he might sue. Or that he might win the war.

Where would the franchises be then?

I’m glad to see that the cartoonists and comedians are doing a good job. The vicious laughter helps.

I have to admit that I’m having trouble coming up with suitable satire. The story I wrote a few months ago looks tame compared to recent headlines. What? He’s talking about giving Alaska back to the Russians? What about the Inuits?

 

To be a proper short story writer, I held back, having it seem to make sense, and I went too far. I have to go back, go wild. Pure Hieronymus Bosch surrealism! Luis, Luis Buñuel, oh no, don’t cut my eyeball . . .

Tezcalipoca must have been listening to my bitching and moaning. Like a sniper’s bullet, ideas exploded my hypothalamus. Talk about brainpan fallout. Visions of mayhem are flooding my synapses. Not just for this story, but another, new one.

I see a Mexican restaurant, in . . . maybe Gnome, Alaska (some research may be needed here) Russian troops eating tacos, “Americans” plotting an exodus through Canada to a country that will be picky about who they let in. I like “Bye, Bye, Russkie Eskimo Pie” for a title. Yeah, I know two ethnic slurs, but I can dream, can’t I?

Is dreaming still legal?

Meanwhile, buy Our Creative Realidades, and enjoy the inner/outer realities. Not just mine. Inspire yours. These realities are our superpower.

Heh-heh-heh . . .

Ernest Hogan, the father of Chicano Science Fiction will be teaching “Gonzo Science Fiction, Chicano Style” at the Fall Palabras del Pueblo Writing Workshop. Apply now!