venus infers that, regarding phallic mother infatuation, there is little certainty other than a question-- what is it about powerful women that makes us want to cry and jitter all over with excitement and squeal in our little french maid dress (to quote that fabulous porn instructional) "bend over, boyfriend!"
in short, what is it in powerful women that reduces us all to (mr) crumbs?
a question posed before in chile a year ago, of renewed interest for our french confrères in view of the upcoming elections, and of utmost importance even while (at least according to one of our fellow bloggers) we see the mother of all phalluses about to sink north of rio grande. of the mother of all phalluses, v can only say thus: that she's eerily hot in person. it may well be the case that the penis is not the phallus, but the phallus is ever hotter in our eyes.
now to the problem that concerns us today, this is the return of the phallique mother. our favorite took off to vacations while implementing the biggest overhaul in public transportation in santiago's history. the change, proclaimed as a pivotal step in the road to the firstworldification of the country, led a 6 million inhabitant city to the verge of collapse. 
so indeed, finally she came back and showed up in an elementary school ceremony, where one of the (only!) fifteen students attending the event unceremoniously fainted. immediately, her nurturingness jumped to the rescue, applying her medical knowledge to the maximum political effect. mother as nurturess, we presume, but was not our sickly little male regressing to the scene of castration, channelling perhaps the anxiety of a progressively disillusioned population? or, and as a journalist helpfully suggested, did he faint out of exhaustion, after being forced to walk to school all the way from home under the searing february heat?tbc...
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