What’s up with Democrats?

I was a Democrat above the Rio Bravo all of my life, and I continued with that mindset till the 2008 presidential election.

One of the numerous things that caused me to switch sides was the inaugural in January 2009. A news camera was behind the stage just before Obama stepped out to take the oath of office. He had the look of a deer caught in the headlights. It really stuck with me. He no longer has that attitude. Quite the contrary. He’s full of himself.

It’s incredible that so many otherwise intelligent people continue to vote for Democrats. For decades now, states and cities run by Democrats are messes. High crime, high taxes, and bad ideas run rampant. Republicans create much nicer places.

As this six-minute video points out, people and businesses are fleeing blue states and moving to red states. It is never the reverse, just as Cubans raft from their island to Key West, not in the other direction. Incidentally, it’s not uncommon to encounter Democrats who think Cuba is a fine and dandy place.

I’ve been there. It’s not.

Even famous liberal — the term actually applies to him, mostly — Bill Maher states the obvious. Perhaps some Democrat who reads The Moon — and who has not been blocked for rudeness — can explain why he or she sticks with that party. It’s a legitimate mystery to me.

Thanks in advance. I know you are out there.

Beef and tortas

Yesterday, I addressed the issue of caldo de res, one of my favorite meals. I mentioned that I rarely ordered it in a restaurant because the beef is usually gristly. I attributed this not to Mexicans’ liking it gristly, but to the fact that gristly beef is cheaper to buy.

Later, my child bride told me it’s because Mexicans like gristly beef. I prefer to think it’s that she likes it, for some godforsaken reason, not that Mexicans in general like gristly beef. But when she makes it at home, she does not use gristly beef because she knows I don’t want it, and she is an accommodating woman.

Above you see the caldo de res she made for our lunch today.

Caldo de res tastes better if it sits a good spell. Same goes for pozole. So, instead of lunching on the caldo de res yesterday, we hopped in the Honda and drove down the highway to a torta restaurant where we enjoyed Cubanos, the torta, not the cigar, although Cuban cigars are available here downtown.

We are amigos to the commies.

Driving home after the tortas, I took these photos along the highway to provide another taste, so to speak, of our area, which is moist and green in September due to months of daily rain.

I call this shot “Yellow House and Tree.”
Let’s call this one “Foggy Mountain and Overpass.”

Actually, “Yellow House and Tree” was photographed from outside the torta restaurant. It was directly across the highway.

Yes, 19 on the 19th

This is how we looked 19 years ago today.

Today, April 19th, marks our 19th anniversary. It was my third wedding that occurred 19 years ago this evening, the third and the best.

The first was a train wreck that lasted a tad over five years. The second was not a train wreck, but ultimately, it just did not pan out. There was a five-year hiatus between the first and the second, and then another five-year hiatus between the second and my move to Mexico.

I am fond of five-year breathers.

Excuse the judge’s hand in the photo above. We did not hire a professional photographer, which was an error. We left it in the hands of a friend, who screwed up, so we lack good photos of the evening, which took place in the interior patio of my sister-in-law’s coffee shop in our mountaintop town.

A year ago.

But we do have a few amateurish photos of the event. Not one photo was taken during either of my previous marriage ceremonies. Memories lost. The first wedding happened in the living room of my parents’ upstairs duplex in New Orleans. The second occurred in a Unitarian Church in Houston with no one present but the two of us and the minister.

For fun, here’s a photo we took about a year ago just as the Kung Flu hysteria was cranking up.

We had just passed our 18th anniversary. I don’t wear masks anymore, but she does.

I hope to make it to the 20th anniversary. I’m not as young and spry as I once was. Maybe we’ll do something special. We celebrated our 10th anniversary in Havana, but we’ll not return to that miserable place.

Now let’s pop open the champagne. It’s a great, bubbly, 19-year-old variety.

Trump got canceled

We’re all familiar, or should be, with the ugly phenomenon of Cancel Culture. It was hatched years ago by the Democrat Socialist Party — formerly known simply as the Democrat Party — to have people who voice blasphemous opinions “canceled” in some way. Usually, this means you get fired from your job.

You might get canceled in other ways too. Social ostracism is popular. In some situations, you can have the bejezus beaten out of you. Antifa, the Black Shirt arm of the Democrat Socialist Party, is enamored of that approach.

Cancel Culture has been very successful in gagging conservatives, most of whom were not particularly courageous in the first place. Now, even less. Cancel Culture, by other names, was popular in Stalin’s Soviet Union and in Mao’s Communist China, and it remains popular in Communist Cuba today. I have visited Cuba. It’s a nasty place.

The Democrat Socialists have been trying to cancel President Trump since he won the presidency, even before he was sworn in. Every attempt failed as Trump always responded with raspberries and the extended finger, figuratively speaking, of course.

They called him a bully for this. Him. Yeah, sure. He’s the bully.

Trump is no coward, fights back, and that drove the Democrat Socialists into wild fits of rage because they are accustomed to winning, and winning with ease. The Russian collusion hoax failed. The impeachment (for what exactly?) failed. They just could not knock him over, and these people are accustomed to success.

Then came the election, their last hope. They rigged it.

And they landed him at last. Their biggest fish.