Remember Hector, Estela’s brother that was studying to become a dentist? Well…
So, this is the end of Chapter 1. I’m going to take next week “off” and then I’ll start posting chapter 2. See ya!
As a former adolescent, I’d like to sign a petition to make sure every parent receives a gold medal after surviving their son’s and daughter’s teenage years.
I’m not so sure where the fashion pendulum is, right now, on the matter of “liking your own work”, but I gotta say I’m very happy with that first panel.
In case you’ve forgotten about last week’s very intriguing ending, somebody rang the doorbell. Today we find out who that was. I guess this comic truly is a “tour de force”!
I promise we’ll eventually have something else, but for now, here’s another page of people seating on a table and talking. That being acknowledged, I do like that last panel:
I guess that hand in the last panel of this page is the closest thing I’ll ever do to a “cliffhanger”.
First fact for the day: According to a bunch of studies cited on Wikipedia, up to 62.5% of the population of Argentina has some degree of Italian descent.
Second fact for the day: Picking and choosing fruits and vegetables is an art form I’ll never, ever, master.
Previously, we learned about Estela’s enthusiasm for the the TV show that will start airing that same night. We’ll now let her expand on it a little bit:
Perico (Parakeet) Gómez was the stage name for one of the “tropical style” singers of the show. I always wondered about that nickname. Was that how his family called him? Was it given by the producers? Did he find it amusing?
We can see him here on a short number taken from the 1964 Club del Clan movie.
A Colombian immigrant at the somewhat early stages in the popularization of Cumbia in Argentina (and all of South America), he played a role that now seems to be a little forgotten. Interestingly enough, what seems to have been even more forgotten are his later musical endeavors. Changing his name to Pot Zenda, he was probably the only member of the show to successfully involve himself with the more “credible” and art infused local rock scene of late 60s and early 70s.
He recorded on the first Almendra album (now considered a “fundational” record) and later recorded some singles of his own.
As a curiosity, there’s this song, written for him (in english!) by Luis Alberto Spinetta (one of the most important musicians in the country, probably meaning to Argentina something similar to what Bob Dylan means to the USA, if that helps understand things a little bit).
A couple of years after that, he moved to Venezuela, where he kept playing music. There’s this video of a TV presentation from that period where he starts singing on a somewhat french, café-concert style. I think there’s a very special charisma to it.
He died on a car accident on Venezuela in 1988. I wonder if and how he’s remembered over there.