It was no surprise that many homes in Venezuela's poorer communities displayed pro- Chavez posters; a no-brainer considering that Hugo Chavez had warned those who would vote against him would be declared "traitors."

Cubans who opposed Fidel Castro were also labeled "traitors," only to be publicly shot dead by militiamen at the big wall coined the "paredon."

I remember a framed photograph of Castro which one day appeared on my night stand, plus another in my parent's room – strange décor in a staunch anticommunist household. Surprise raids by militiamen had become routine in our neighborhood, and the strategically displayed photos were meant to soften the blows from Castro's cronies. A subtle message of alliance, combined with prayer and hope, might keep the "milicianos" from hurting our family.

Meanwhile, nightly, my parents burned papers and photographs in the bathtub. A mere picture with a politician or any known contrarian to the communist regime was enough to get you dragged out of your house during the raids, and sent to prison, or worse yet, shot at the "paredon."

Everyone was careful, as a scared neighbor might well tattle on you to the authorities, thus obtaining a temporary reprieve for his family by pointing a guilty finger at someone else.

It was 1959. And Castro was asserting himself in Cuba, violently silencing his opposition, whilst promising to share the wealth and benefits of the rich with the poor. News providers were seized by the government, private companies were nationalized, and prisons burst at the seams with political hostages.

The rest is history, and history repeats itself.

The Venezuelan elections produced the expected results, with inflated voter registrations that included the dead, the homeless, and the non-existent. Fear of repercussion mixed with a rebellious spirit caused many to stay away.

The global dangers of a communist Venezuela are facing us, and it boggles the mind to fathom a new diaspora that could persevere another 50 years. Or more. Like Cuba.

America is already suffering from Chavez' oil at almost $100 a barrel, yet we continue to purchase it from him. Last month, in a fit of rage, the Venezuelan president yet again threatened to cut off oil supply to the U.S.; a punitive measure for Exxon-Mobil's recent court victory which froze billions of dollars of Venezuelan assets here and abroad after its government seized control of Exxon- Mobil's Venezuelan operations.

Discussions abound and a bevy of experts have chimed in. The consensus: that they need us more that we need them – they supply slightly less than 10 percent of U.S. needs, yet we provide over 65 percent of their income. So, they concur, we are "safe."

Whether we label his tenure a dictatorship, a communist or socialistic regime, Chavez talks dirt about the United States, spewing insults, threats, and outright lies on a regular basis. Worse yet, as Castro has mastered for decades, Chavez blames all that ails his country on the tyranny of imperialistic America, all the while using American oil revenue for his socialistic generosity.

And it's really hard to bite the hand that feeds the poor; so many believe in him, while Americans get the bum rap.

Meanwhile we continue doing business with Venezuela. Yet the last time Venezuela cut off our oil supply due to a dragged-out strike, the repercussions suffered in America were limited to a slight increase of a few pennies per gallon. That was five years ago.

Instead of speculating whether Chavez will come through with his threat or not, might we not accept the dare?

Let us not be dependent on Venezuelan oil any longer. If our American dollars account for 65 percent of their oil export income, allow them to replace that money elsewhere. In the meantime, we'll pay a few more cents per gallon.

If we wait longer, we can only buy Mr. Chavez the time he needs to get his oil agreements with Iran, Russia and China to deliver. At which point, he will neither need or want to do business with Americans, and will happily dump us.

Right now, it stands a chance to not only deliver a powerful message to Chavez, but force him to scramble to keep his economy from disintegrating.

The school children were gathered in their classroom, and a uniformed member of young Castro's militia entered, greeting the children with a smile. "Close your eyes," he instructed them, "and pray really hard for God to bring you some ice cream."

Dutifully they did, and when told to open their eyes, they found nothing. "Now close your eyes and pray really hard for Fidel to bring you some ice cream," the soldier asked. And sure enough, upon opening their little eyes, on each desk lay a cup of vanilla ice cream with that tiny wooden spoon.

It's tough to bite the hand that feeds you.