A fruitcake* Zapata

nude

MUCHOS MEXICANOS, yours truly included, are incensed at this painting of my father as a raging queen astride a horse with a raging woodie.

That this exists is yet another example of corrupt Gringo culture and mindset filtering south of the border where most of us do not want it.

Shockingly, this painting is on exhibit in the Palace of Fine Arts in Mexico City where it has been the focus on plentiful protests. Good.

That it sits in the Palace of Fine Arts instead of a privately owned gallery, which would be bad enough, puts the government Seal of Approval on it, which is pathetic, but we have ignorant left-wing regimes now on both the federal level and in Mexico City too.

Sad.

In the same vein, Netflix has just released a Christmas special about a gay Jesus. All I can say to this is: Jesus!

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* Superlative fruitcakes are available at the Collin Street Bakery. I endorse those tasty things. Just keep them off horny horses.

Dedicated to Daddy

Before
Before
During
During
After
After

My daddy, Emiliano, the generalissimo, rode atop his horse under a little roof like this at the gates of Hacienda de San Juan in the State of Morelos before he was shot dead in 1919 by Carranza’s pendejos.* Daddy was just 39.

Mama cried for years, and I miss him still.

I’ve long wanted a similar roof of clay tile over our own Hacienda’s entrance, and now I have it, thanks to a couple of sharp albañiles, which is what we call guys who build stuff below the Rio Bravo.

It took the fellows, two brothers, three days to complete the job, and the total cost, labor and materials, came to about $445. That’s U.S. bucks.

I wish Daddy could see the gate. He’d be very old now, but he’d likely rush through the gates with his pistols blazing. Wouldn’t fool Daddy twice.

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* Pendejo means sumbitch in Spanish.