Downfall of America

Crosses are rarely seen on Unitarian churches, probably never.

I’ve given this topic lots of thought over the past few years. There are numerous reasons for the downfall of America, and I’ll list three here in no particular order of priority.

  1. People who attend the Unitarian Church. As I was a Democrat until 2008, I favored the Unitarian Church for much of my life before moving south of the Rio Bravo. Both of my first two marriages were officiated by Unitarian ministers, and both marriages failed. My third (successful) marriage was officiated by a Catholic judge.
  2. Unmarried women who sport men’s haircuts, especially the older gals. These women invariably embrace horrendous political views, doubly if they live in Philadelphia.
  3. Anyone who listens to National Public Radio. Again, I long was guilty and, again, I have recovered. Sweet music is played on NPR, but between the tunes, you’re fed nuttiness that smites the psyche.

Women who attend Unitarian churches often listen to NPR, and they also have men’s haircuts. The perfect storm.

Do you know what sort of people go to Unitarian Church? People who do not believe in Jesus, but who like to go to church on Sundays.

I never believed in Jesus or had a church-going habit, so I never really went to the Unitarian Church, but when I needed it, there it was, mostly to certify bad marriages.

Far fewer women in Mexico sport men’s haircuts than do women above the Rio Bravo. This is one of the many plusses of living in Mexico. More often than not, when you see a woman down here with a man’s haircut, she’s a nun or wishes she were.

National Public Radio does not exist in Mexico, but you can tune in online. I don’t, but you can. We Mexicans get our ignorance from other sources. Listening to our doofus president is a top choice for many.

Happy university!

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The window by our bed in Havana.

TODAY IS our 18th anniversary. Congrats to us.

When we woke up in our Havana guesthouse in 2012, our 10th anniversary, which was why we went to the communist hellhole, my child bride, whose English was none too good and remains so, said to me: Happy university!

We’ve chuckled about that ever since. So now we do not have anniversaries. We have universities, and the entrance exam is strict. No snowflakes.

I was married to my first wife just over five years. I was married to my second wife for a decade, but we lived in sin about nine years before the Houston ceremony performed by a Unitarian minister. There was just the three of us, and we did it on her lunch break. One more year, and I’ll have been with this Mexican hottie longest of all.

wed
The groom, the bride, the sister, the Eggman (R.I.P.)

We tied the knot in the indoor patio of my sister-in-law’s coffee shop. There was a nice crowd, and we danced. A woman sent by the judge officiated.

You don’t say I do in Mexico.

You say I accept.

Wish someone had told me that in advance.

But it’s all worked out just fine, thank you.

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(Note: Here are more photos I took in Havana. I wish I had taken more and with a better camera, especially since we’ll never return. It’s a grim place.)