Guantanamo Bay is a place where the absurd meets the strategic. It’s a tropical hell-for-some that literally has a beach with a snack bar. It’s a legal gray zone in the Caribbean, where U.S. law kind of applies but also doesn’t.
And whenever you hear someone say, “Close Gitmo,” remember: you can’t close a place that’s also a gateway for refugees, a home to poisonous sea snakes, and the only American territory where you can buy a Happy Meal under the watchful eye of Fidel Castro’s ghost.
It’s a weird place, folks. But now you know exactly where it is: on Cuba, forever, at the corner of irony and empire. And let’s be honest—that’s the most American thing about it.
