Quite a lovely day

Friday, the 17th of October in the year of the Goddess 2014.
Friday, the 17th of October in the year of the Goddess 2014.

SITTING ON THE web chair Friday next to the glass-top table on the yard patio and under the big brown umbrella, I look over yonder, admiring this photo scene I’ve seen a gazillion times and that people who’ve visited here with any regularity have seen 563 times. No matter. I love it, and I’m a sharing sort of fellow.

At noon, the sky was mostly clear. It had not rained the past few days. Could the Mexican monsoon be over? Let us pray so, which is what I considered doing as I sat with my Kindle reading H.L. Mencken’s Newspaper Days, one of a recently issued Days trilogy. The other two books are Happy Days and Heathen Days.

I’ve never read a book by Mencken before, just the occasional quote. Here is one that I, of course, concur with:

“Whenever A annoys or injures B on the pretense of saving or improving X, A is a scoundrel.”

But that was yesterday. It broke my heart when late in the afternoon, the skies over the mountains blackened (no racial ill will intended), but it held off. No rain. And here this morning, Saturday, it is overcast but still dry.

However, there was a tropical storm out in the sea, and that could dump an arm of the Mexican monsoon on us today. Perhaps those black clouds last night were related. Looks marginally clear right now.

I think the Goddess controls the overall atmosphere and perhaps contracts out tropical storms to some other spirit. I hope she keeps the storm spirit under her thumb today. She can be stern when needed.

Speaking of the Goddess and the related Christian God, have you been following the hubbub in Houston where the lesbian mayor wishes to have final say over sermons in churches? She doesn’t want anybody disagreeing with gay marriage or, I suspect, anything related to the collectivist playbook.

They brook no disagreement. The First Amendment pains them.

The backlash has been fierce, and it appears she’s tucking her tail between sections of her ample hindquarters and heading behind the nearest Texas duck blind.

Are there any lesbian conservatives? There are conservative gay guys, but is there even one lesbian conservative? Probably the only person to come close would be Camille Paglia, but it’s dang difficult to pigeonhole her. She’s conservative only in some areas, depending on her mood when she wakes each morning.

Let’s hope it does not rain today, and the kids in the barrio can fly their homemade kites. I’ve seen quite a few this week. At the moment, one is hanging high and stranded in a tree across the street. It’s visible through the window over the monitor. Another crash-landed two days ago in our back patio. I would have liked to reunite it with its master, but no telling where he might be.

The local kids paste these things together and launch them with a line of sewing thread. It’s always sewing thread, which breaks very easily, of course, when it’s half-a-mile long.

If the rain stays at bay another day, we’ll see more kites flying. It’s not advisable to fly a kite in the rain because you might have a Benjamin Franklin moment, and that could get ugly.

The neighborhood

I CHANGED THE hues here and added the photo up top, which will be a permanent fixture until I change my mind again. That’s the view on a foggy morning of my neighborhood out back of the Hacienda. As you can see, it’s no Beverly Hills.

Though more Gringos move hereabouts every year, they don’t seem drawn to my specific neighborhood, which suits me just fine. When we built the Hacienda 11 years back, there was just one other Gringo living nearby, actually a Gringa, a woman named Judith Diem who was over 90 years old at that time. The scuttlebutt was that she had been a lover of John Steinbeck, and perhaps she was.

Though we lived only about four blocks apart, and she frequented my sister-in-law’s coffee shop downtown, often sitting at a sidewalk table just opposite me, we never exchanged a word. She was a odd one, to put it mildly, driving her pickup around while wearing no glasses.

accordionA year or two after we moved into the Hacienda, she died. Mexicans live in her old place now. Here’s a video of Diem. The fellow playing the accordion at one point is also an artist, an excellent one. He is named Solis, and I like him. He lives downtown.

Solis is exceedingly fond of my child bride’s pastries. Some of his works adorn our Hacienda walls.

Roundabouts when Judith Diem died, a gay bookseller named William, from New England, purchased a good-sized plot about three blocks from us. He renovated a rundown home that was already there, turning it into something downright nice. He was in his mid-50s, not on a pension, and he seemed to have financial troubles. William often seemed extremely stressed.

He brought English-language books from above the Rio Bravo and opened a little bookstore in his home. It was not a profitable concern, and after a couple of years he returned to New England. I heard three or so years later that he had died. Dunno why.

The golden datura that proliferates in our yard comes from cuttings that William was nice enough to give me.

Before returning to New England, William sold his property to a guy we’ll call Joe, his wife and son, a snotty youngster in his early 20s. Joe tore down the house William had built and constructed an adobe palace in its place, much like the Spaniards built the great cathedral in Mexico City’s Zócalo atop the ruins of the Aztec Emperor Cuauhtemoc’s homestead.

EmperorBut William was no emperor, and Joe and his wife were publishers of children’s books.

The new owners lasted about three years before selling the palace and moving to Uruguay under mysterious circumstances. During our morning power walks around the neighborhood plaza we would often see Joe’s son tooling about atop a small day-glo bicycle, the kind you usually see owned by 10-year-olds, but he was not 10.

He was far past puberty, and he had an obvious hankering for neighborhood girls. I believe some subsequent mischief led to the family’s pulling up stakes rather suddenly and moving to the tip of South America.

I could be wrong about that.

The adobe palace stayed on the market for a good spell, but it finally was purchased by an older Gringo couple. The fellow is named Ellis, and I do not recall his wife’s name. I have spoken to Ellis a time or two in passing, and he seems like a real nice guy.

They do not appear to live here full-time.

After 11 years, there are still only two Gringo houses in my hardscrabble neighborhood. That’s plenty.

There are lots of Mexicans, however, plus pigs, dogs, donkeys and chickens.

PC terrorists

A profile
A profile

THE GREAT STATE of Arizona is in trouble again. The ACLU says police profiled a couple of Latino dudes. Well, duh, I say. That’s smart. Keep it up!

Whenever someone is accused of profiling, they invariably deny it. This is a poor reply. The proper response is yes, I profile. It makes sense. It is an effective law-enforcement tool.

I touched on this matter hereabouts a couple of years ago, so I will not repeat myself. Click here if you want a fuller explanation of the perfect sense of profiling.

That the PC Legions have effectively gagged all conversation about the value of profiling is sad, pathetic and dangerous. They are a terror group. Just ask the former CEO of Firefox who contributed $1,000 to support traditional marriage in California in 2008,* booted from his job last week for the sin.

It’s lamentable that the PC Brown Shirts (no pun intended) have such an innocuous name. Politically correct. Sounds perfectly reasonable, something that might appeal to any end of the belief spectrum. Everybody wants to be correct, and most of us are convinced we are. The PC name is a sweet deception.

What we actually have is a Gestapo, a Stasi, a KGB, a Red Guard in miniature, still in sour-faced, angry, youth mode, having yet to attain adulthood. This Movement is now running America.

It is made up of two sectors:

1.  Belligerent Leftists. This is the smaller of the two groups, but their anger and sense of total righteousness drives the Movement and makes it dangerous. They abound on campus.

2. The Pawns. This more numerous segment consists of people across society who are poorly informed (no sense of history or human nature) and basically aren’t paying attention. But supporting “the oppressed” sounds nice to them and fair. They voted for Barry not once but twice.

These are the sort of people who, when Dachau was liberated in 1945, lived in a nearby town and who claimed they had no idea what was happening behind the razor wire down the road. And many were telling the truth because they weren’t paying attention, didn’t care.

Currently, disobeying edicts of the Politically Correct Brown Shirts will only get you fired from your job and often shunned from society, depending on where you live and work. You won’t be shot or gassed just yet.

The Movement hasn’t reached adulthood. But it’s working out, popping vitamins.

It’s still pre-1932.

One of the loudest platoons of Sector No. 1 are gay activists who will sue your pants off if you won’t bake their wedding cakes or photograph their Rainbow events. It can get uglier if you criticize their marriages. This “difference of opinion” is what put Firefox’s CEO out on the street. Unacceptable ideas.

Interestingly, journalist Andrew Sullivan, quite gay and liberal, said this about the Firefox case in a post titled “The Hounding of a Heretic” on the popular blog The Daily Dish:

The whole episode disgusts me – as it should disgust anyone interested in a tolerant and diverse society. If this is the gay rights movement today – hounding our opponents with a fanaticism more like the religious right than anyone else – then count me out. If we are about intimidating the free speech of others, we are no better than the anti-gay bullies who came before us.

Gay bullies are PC Brown Shirts, but so are other permanently aggrieved segments of spoiled America. Many are minorities because it’s attractive to be aggrieved if you’re a minority. It can also be convenient and profitable. (See Al Sharpton.) But many in Sector No. 1 are well-off, white, belligerent Leftists.

And their willing pawns live their lives, not noticing the razor wire growing higher just up the road.

* * * *

* The same stance as Barry Obama in that time.

ObamaCare Queens!

Sometimes things just get too weird for words in Barry’s New World.

An ObamaCare front group called Out2Enroll (get it?) has released a video encouraging gay guys to sign up. Why gays are singled out is beyond me. Aren’t they citizens like everybody else? Is there a gay version of ObamaCare?

Will there be separate medical clinics where all nurses will be muscled males sporting briefs, and they’ll spend lots of time eyeballing other boys’ butts?

Will these clinics fly the Rainbow flag for easy identification?

Will another video follow aimed at Lesbians? And will it be peopled with fat, angry dykes in blue jeans and flannel shirts? Will ObamaCare provide separate Lesbian clinics where all nurses will be female, but they’ll look like bar bouncers?

Will those clinics sport their own flag, something from the logging industry?

A GOP group of gay guys who call themselves Log Cabin Republicans are unhappy with the video, claiming that it reinforces stereotypes that gays are buffed-up, sex-crazed, air-headed loons who run around in tight underwear.

And, of course, that is precisely what the video does.

Meanwhile, today’s deadline for signing up with ObamaCare —  if you want coverage on January 1 — has been pushed back by one day. Isn’t that swell?

Thanks, Barry!

Without further ado, here are the prancing queens of ObamaCare!