Sitting along South Beach, lunching in Coral Gables, locked in a bubble now coming up on seventy-five years, planning that thing they've planned in their heads and hearts twice too many times to count: the defeat of the Castros and aligned familias and their own arrival on an island many of them have never even seen, there to be rewarded for ... for ... for being them because, well, because. On such absurdities, fueled far more these days by greed, nostalgia (both experienced and appropriated), as well as more than a touch of magical thinking is this Emperor Marco nonsense constructed.