Plants, birds & plugs

This morning.

After assaulting three arrogant bougainvillea bushes and two of their allies with sharp clippers early today, I rested on the downstairs terraza, atop a rocker, and enjoyed what remained of the morning. As I sat there with a juice my child bride had made, a black-vented oriole landed on the edge of the birdbath for a sip. I did not have my camera.

He flew away.

I remained on the rocking chair. A few minutes later he returned for more water. I still did not have my camera. I cursed my luck. He flew away. I remained on the rocker. A few minutes later he returned and sat on a bougainvillea near the birdbath. Still, no camera. I cursed. He flew away. I stood up and grabbed the Canon which was on a table just inside the front door. I sat on the rocker again. The bird never came back.

Also this morning.

Spring has been strange. After about a week of warmer, stuffier weather, which is normal for spring, it changed its tune and got cool again, so my wife caught a nasty cold three days ago because she was dressed at night for a normal spring. She’s feeling better today.


And now, a plug

Few passersby notice, I think, but there is quite a list of links nearby to other fascinating elements of The Moon. It’s to your right on a PC, but I suspect fewer people use PCs these days, favoring phones and tablets where those links are less obvious.

One in particular that ran as a series here years ago but now has its own website is The Old Marbol, which is the name of a hotel in Dark City. Many strange people work at The Old Marbol, people like Billy Lancing who’s a red-headed negro; Lenny Slick, a dim-witted desk clerk addicted to phrenology; Maxence, a retired mercenary who loved Chloë Jomo-Gbomo; and Beauregard Lee Johnston, a gay guy from the Old South.

Most importantly is Kristanbel Wasoo who was born bad, beautiful and heartless. She loves dark ale and bloody roast beef sandwiches. She murders people. Here is a full cast of characters. I used to write short fiction, but I have stopped because my well ran dry.

But the Old Marbol Hotel lives on in Dark City.

México Lindo

IN SPITE OF our sometimes shady reputation, tourists can’t get enough of Mexico, which recently surpassed Mohammedan-infested Turkey as the world’s eighth-most-favored tourist destination.

A friend recently pointed me to an interesting web page that compared the United States with Mexico.

Among its pluses is that you’re 32 percent less likely to be unemployed in Mexico. Before you pack your suitcase, know that you’ll also earn 70 percent less money here.

Not mentioned on the list is that while you will make less money, living in Mexico is significantly cheaper, somewhat balancing things out, an important detail.

And you’re five times more likely to be murdered in Mexico, or so they say.  While that sounds bad, think of it this way:

If you’re chances of being murdered in the United States are 0.05 percent, then your chances in Mexico are 0.25. Still unlikely. I’ve been here 17 years, and nobody’s tried to murder me.

Perhaps they’ve considered it.

In Mexico, we spend 93 percent less on healthcare. In other words, how’s that ObamaCare working out for you?

We use 85 percent less electricity, and we’re 69 percent less likely to be in prison. Of course, a pessimist will say that’s because most of the bad guys are walking free, and maybe they are.

Or wearing police uniforms.

There are more pluses and minuses. If you want to read the entire list, go here. As for me, I’m staying put where I’m less likely to be in prison, and healthcare is far cheaper.

I hope I won’t be murdered.