Another idiot check

Every two weeks I check my PO box downtown. I don’t check it more often because I rarely receive anything, and 99 percent of what I do receive is from the United States. Today I got my second idiot check.

And this one was for twice the amount of the previous. It’s more moolah to ease my financial pain caused by the Kung Flu, financial pain that, for me, never happened.

Why do I call it an idiot check? Because it comes from the idiots who run the U. S. government and are fond of tossing money in all directions regardless of need or logic. Much goes overseas, and I’m not referring to me but to foreign nations in the form of aid. Some of that aid goes to China, which catapults the idiocy to unbelievable heights.

China. Really? I just learned of this lately.

Meanwhile, the United States sinks deeper into its Red Sea of Debt.

Mexican mail

But there is good news here, and that’s the Mexican postal system. Yes, it’s still slow, at times miserably so, but the fact that I received this check and the previous, which were in window envelopes with U.S. Treasury as the return address, making it crystal clear that a check was inside, is cause for celebration.

These are the first two checks ever mailed to me, but I’ve read horror stories of checks being stolen in the Mexican postal system, and the advice that one ought never have a check mailed here. I did have a credit card from above the border vanish years ago, and that is why Mexican banks do not deliver credit cards in the mail. They know better.

Express services deliver them, or you can pick them up at the bank.

I was surprised when I received the first check a couple of months ago. I thought it was a fluke. And now I get another one. I suspect one reason may be that cashing it nowadays is very difficult. Check-cashing services require lots of identification. Lots. And most Mexican banks will not cash a dollar check, or let you deposit it.

No new eye

The check amount is exactly the cost of my second laser eye surgery, and I had considered using it for that, but I have decided to leave my second eye in peace. It works just fine. I had a cataract removal in February, which I wrote about here.

The reason I did the first one was that my ophthalmologist said it likely was the cause of my diminishing night vision, which made driving after dark unwise and inconvenient. But the only post-op change that I see — no pun intended — is that colors are now a bit brighter in the repaired eye, which was the worst of the two, the doc said.

So the worst eye is now the best eye. Might that be enough?

True, I have not driven after dark since the surgery because the hour changed, and I don’t leave home after 9 p.m. I’ll see how it goes when we switch hours again in October, but I suspect I’ll leave well enough alone, and I also suspect that it did not reduce my problem. But maybe it did, so I still won’t need to go under the laser again.

Maybe years in the future when I get really old.

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.

Commies & selling stuff

Just before arriving downtown on one of the two main drags, you encounter a wall, about a block long, that’s been painted bright red with occasional large yellow stars included. No words. It’s put there by the Communist Party, which has a candidate for mayor in the upcoming elections in June.

They don’t call themselves the Communist Party, of course. The call themselves the Workers Party, but it’s easy to see through that sleight of hand. Only a fool would be fooled. Alas, many voters are fools, which is why universal suffrage is a dreadful idea. The traditional communist star is red, but theirs is yellow atop a red background.

Precisely like the flag of Communist Vietnam.

A recent poll has the communist candidate, a smiling young fellow who looks to be in his mid-30s, to be the front-runner in our mayoral contest. He’s part of a coalition that includes the Morena Party, which is the party that our demagogue president formed some years back because he kept losing elections when part of other leftist parties.

Morena means “brown woman.” How’s that for playing the race card?

At present, it seems we have no mayor at all. The fellow who has been mayor for years abandoned the job recently to run for a national post in Mexico’s congress, so City Hall is running on autopilot. That former mayor, a guy named Baéz, and for whom I voted, was the best mayor since I moved here decades back.

Previous mayors did nothing at all. They came into office and then they left. You never noticed that anything changed for better or for worse, but I imagine the mayors left office richer than when they arrived. Baéz, however, really got things done. He renovated downtown streets and sidewalks. He build a sports complex, a new City Hall, lots of things I viewed positively. He was always out and about. But now he’s gone.

To the national stage. Buena suerte.

Will the commie candidate win? Maybe. And if he does, will we return to mayors who do nothing? Probably. Better to do nothing than do what communists like to do. His campaign motto is: “Happiness that Transforms.” Cute, huh?

Selling stuff

Mexicans often offer things for sale without mentioning vital details, like price, but it’s worse than that. It’s common to see signs tacked up around town that say, for instance, House for Sale, and that’s it, aside from a phone number. There will be no address, no mention of two bedrooms or 10, nothing, just House for Sale and a phone number.

Except for large stores, especially chains, it’s also common to see retail items for sale that have no price attached. This is dumb, but it’s done so the seller can get a look at you first to decide how much he thinks he can get. Marketing studies have proven unequivocally that things — anything at all — sell faster with visible prices.

But the locals like to size up the buyer before revealing prices. It’s a bad tactic.

Running the gauntlet

You can never be too safe!

Last week I posted a piece on the Kung Flu hysteria. Just yesterday I happened upon what might be the most over-the-top hysterical reaction to the pandemic anywhere in Mexico. Or maybe the entire world. First off, a little background:

We know the YUGE political element to the Kung Flu, especially above the border where leftists want everyone to hide at home and shut all businesses and schools, effectively bringing civilization to a halt. Think California and New York.

Conservatives are more clear-headed and embrace personal choice and freedom when confronted with health issues. Think Texas, Florida and South Dakota.

Back to Mexico now.

Be safe!

Most Gringos who relocate below the Rio Bravo are leftists. It must be their inner hippie that causes them to settle down here. Conservatives tend to stay closer to home. I am an exception. Maybe not because I was a Democrat voter 21 years ago when I pulled up stakes in Texas to flee south.

San Miguel de Allende, which is crammed to the roof tiles with Gringos, most of whom are Democrat Socialists, has been transformed by the YUGE presence of foreigners. Now look at the top photo. To enter downtown San Miguel, you must pass through that archway which sprays your entire body with antiseptic liquid.

I cannot stop laughing at this lunacy.

I discovered this on a video published by Tangerine Travels.