There Are Other Photos Of Me, You Know -- By Che Guevara

There Are Other Photos Of Me, You Know -- By Che Guevara
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Mi amigos, I packed a lot of life into the 39 years I spent on this wild, topsy-turvy planet of ours. I really did it all. Marxist revolutionary. Prison commander. Cabinet Minister. Guerrilla leader. And having garnered so much wisdom from those rich experiences, I'd feel remiss if I didn't take a moment to share some of it with all my fans out there. So sit back and let me fill you in on what may very well be the most important bit of information you'll ever learn from Che Guevara:

There are a buttload of other photos of me out there!

Look, your buddy Che's been dead a long time, so it's not like I'm pissed off about this or anything. It's just that I don't feel a life as well-lived as my own can truly be summed up in one singular still image. Sure it's pretty iconic looking, with my steely gaze and rugged Latin features and such. But let's break it down a bit, shall we?

First off, what was I thinking with the beret? I'm Argentinean, not French. It kinda looks like the one Fred 'Rerun' Berry used to wear on What's Happening!! And that, my dear friends, is most certainly not a compliment. Madre mia!

Secondly, I'm pretty certain I could have done without the Thriller-era Michael Jackson jacket. Just throwing that out there. I'm supposed to be leading my Cuban brothers and sisters to freedom, not strutting my stuff with breakdancing zombies over a cheesy disco beat. Fashion-wise, even wearing a dorky t-shirt with the aforementioned image of myself on it would be a step up. (They sell 'em on Pinterest, btw -- hopefully my estate gets a cut!)

Plus, I look so serious in that photo! Geez Che, who died? Ha ha -- I kid! I was actually attending the funeral for the poor victims of the 1960 La Coubre explosion. But still, you see what I'm getting at.

My point is this. There are plenty of other photos out there that show off the many sides of Che Guevara. I remember this one great snapshot of me at my cousin Javier's graduation party, where I managed to stuff like, seven pickled eggs in my mouth. Big ones, too! I had these giant-ass chipmunk cheeks that would have made Dizzy Gillespie jealous. Trust me, totally priceless. I think Raúl Castro still has it up on his refrigerator.

Here's something you may not know. In the mid-'60s, I had some stylin' pics taken of me with some of my bigwig Hollywood friends. Not to name names, but the Che-man was pretty well hooked up with the A-list elite. Sure, I despised the United States as much as the next South American revolutionary, but I had a TV pilot I was pitching around, so you know how it goes. You've gotta play the game, dude.

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Oh, and let's not forget that awesome picture of me back at the University of Buenos Aires, where I had not one, but two medical cadavers sticking their hands down the front of my trousers! Hey, I was studying to be a doctor at the time; we pulled crazy pranks like that every day. Real Weekend at Bernie's kinda stuff. Now tell me that image wouldn't look killer on your dorm room wall!

Ah, but sadly, all everybody wants to see is that one, solitary picture of me. Sure, it's been changed up over the years. Sometimes it's in color. Other times it's animated. On the odd occasion, you'll even see it being all hippie psychedelic or whatever. But regardless, it's always the same thing: old Mr. Brooding-Pants, looking like he's ready to fight the good fight for the sake of the little man.

Whatever floats your boat, I guess. I'll tell you one thing, though: when I finish off my latest scrapbooking album, I know one photo that ain't making the cut. Tough tittie, said the kitty.

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