Martinelli's popularity is cratering, Panamanians don't believe his rosy economic predictions, murder rates are through the roof, everything is getting more expensive and the protests against Martinelli's mafia laws just won't stop. What to do, if you're an incompetent supermarket mogul with the political acumen of a goldfish, drug scandals hanging over you and just no fucking clue about statesmanship or even how to marginally run a country more or less coherently?
Ah! But luckily Berlusconi came to visit and gave advice. The Italians, or better said the Romans, knew very well how to deal with his type of situation: A ritual sacrifice!
So, well, we're sorry Don Bosco the Clown, but although Martinelli is performing abominably as a president, you haven't performed at all. So if you just lie over there on that altar, your own party will stab you and slab you under the watchful eye of our great narco-emperor Martinelli and cheered on by the masses - if they make it through the twenty police checkpoints into the stadium that is - and then they will forget about all the evildoings of our government. And you will be sent to become a Ron Abuelo sales agent Panama's ambassador in Nigeria, where the Africans live.
Don't believe us? Read the official announcement!