Woke SJW sees the light!

 

IT’S SWEET TO SEE a leftist come to her senses.

In case you are unaware of the #WalkAway movement, which exists in real life and on YouTube, it is full of folks — more and more every day — who once voted Democrat but have seen the light.

I am one of those people though I’ve made no YouTube video, nor am I likely to. I walked away in 2007, earlier than most.

This woman, whose name is Bree, was a Bernie fanatic and a self-admitted, brainwashed, intolerant Social Justice Warrior. But after the 2016 presidential election, her eyes were opened. The first video predated the second by about a month.

Watch both. She’s a babe. Both videos were made in the summer of 2018, and the #WalkAway Movement has grown even greater since then. The movement was begun by a gay, New York hairstylist named Brandon Straka.

Note that there is no corresponding movement of people jumping ship in the other direction. The flood runs one way, away from the left toward clear thought and liberty.

If you suffer from Trump Derangement Syndrome, if you believe government owes you a living, if you think capitalism is the root of all evil, if you regularly read The New York Times and The Washington Post, thinking they keep you politically informed, if you watch CNN and MSNBC, if you think the United States is a terrible place and always has been …

… if you think blacks are always victims, that Jeffrey Epstein did commit suicide, that it was “Hillary’s turn,” that all cultures have equal value (except America’s, which is racist!), that women never lie about sex, that people don’t kill people, guns do …

… if you wear a pink pussy hat without feeling like a fool and if you cut contact with friends and family on Facebook and Instagram because they have different opinions …

… if you think President Trump hates gays, “people of color,” Mohammedans, Chinamen, and Mexicans, if you think Trump abuses women, and pimps out Melania whenever the Secret Service looks the other way, take a moment and listen to the words of this once-Woke woman who used to be your Soul Sister. You could be redeemable too.

 

The morning light

chair
Dining room table awaits biscuits or croissants.

DEPENDING ON THE season or the dawn hour I stumble out of bed, I am greeted with great scenes upstairs and down as I start the day. I enjoy this.

Life is gradually opening in the Plague Year. I declared it mostly over — for me at least. My child bride is less certain — on May 10, and started going places like in the pre-Plague times. We’ll be eating Japanese this afternoon, which has become a new Thursday tradition. That restaurant is only open Thursday through Sunday, and Sunday is reserved for another establishment directly downtown. It’s called Meraki, open just Saturday and Sunday for now and with a trimmed-down menu. It faces the Basilica.

Next week we’ll be driving to the nearby state capital not only for groceries but to visit a bank due to a mystery account and Home Depot to buy ceiling lights for the Downtown Casita and my child bride’s pastry kitchen, things we’ve been putting off.

We’ll eat in a restaurant there too, which we’ve not done since early March.

Since May 10, I’ve visited Auto Zone and a pastry shop on the downtown plaza various times, and I have not died. Neither have the Japanese joint nor Meraki killed us.

Why, we’re even going to the dentist soon for overdue cleanings. I’ve found a new place here in town that comes highly recommended. Gotta tend to the pearly whites.

Must tend too to the physique. Weekday mornings, before First Breakfast, is when I do my limited routine on the gym set. It keeps me on my toes, in a manner of speaking.

Speaking of exercise, it’s time to head out for my morning walk. Nos vemos.

gym
The gym set awaits me weekday mornings upstairs.

More stuff about water

New Image
The shiny, new pump above, and the old faded one below.

old

A FEW DAYS ago, I wrote about where water comes from, and the annual cleaning of the underground cistern, a chore we handle ourselves, the two of us. Coincidentally, during that same week, the nearby pump that delivers water from the cistern to the tank on the roof made funny noises for the second time in recent weeks, so I decided to replace it. It was 17 years old, installed during the Hacienda construction.

It is not a pump you want to fail. Without it, there’s no water anywhere in the house.

I don’t know the useful life of such a pump, but 17 years seems a long time, and the pump looked quite ratty, as you can see from the photo. The new pump is big and beautiful.

Like Muhammad Ali.

Coincidentally again, and also water-related, the Honda got a new water pump last week, another precautionary measure. That pump too was the original, and the car has 210,000 kilometers. As I write this, the Honda sits in the shop having its A-C radiator replaced. The A-C decided to commit suicide during our hottest month of the year.

Yes, the Honda has a streak of malevolence.

But enough about the Honda. Let’s return to the house. The tank on the roof sports some sort of electronic gizmo — with mercury inside, I think. It dangles inside like a snake — that senses when water falls below half full. At that point, it signals the pump below, the one that was replaced, to ignite and send water from the cistern up to the roof.

Following this?

Just after the pump started acting goofy, the electronic gizmo up top failed its mission, and the roof tank’s water level fell considerably below half. I knew this because I went to the roof, put a ladder against the tank, popped the top, looked in, saw the situation, and gave the electronic snake a shake. It turned on the pump below, and water started to come up.

But obviously, there was a problem. So today, Jorge the Plumber came with the new pump, plus a new electronic snake for the roof tank. Jorge is also an electrician.

So now I have a new pump down below and a new electronic snake up top. With luck, this pump will top the 17 years of the previous one, and the snake will last as long as possible. And the Honda’s A-C will keep me cool for a long time to come, especially in May.

The entire cost — the labor and materials — ran the peso equivalent of $160 U.S. The cost of the work on the Honda has yet to be determined.

Let’s go have a coffee now. I’m bushed.

Where water comes from

cistern
My child bride, sporting her Kung Flu mask, does the mopping.

THE MONTH OF MAY means the cistern must be swept and mopped. It’s the underground tank where the municipal water arrives daily and waits to be pumped to the roof tank from where it is distributed to the faucets inside the house via gravity.

We do this every year. Many people never do it, but we don’t live like that. This became doubly important a couple of years ago when we stopped using bottled drinking water and installed a filtration system under the kitchen sink. It has a separate faucet, and that’s our drinking water now, straight from this cistern.

The water that fills the cistern comes from an underground spring.

The tank, which is concrete, was built about 12 years ago, replacing a “modern” plastic job that was installed when the Hacienda was constructed in 2002-03. The plastic one collapsed in time because it was installed incorrectly, the only error the builder committed because he was “old school” and had no experience with plastic cisterns.

And by pure lousy luck, the day he installed it, we were in San Miguel de Allende. Had I been here, I would have noticed and corrected the bum installation. It was the only time we were out of town during the entire nine-month construction.

But all’s well that ends well, especially when it’s an actual well. This big baby — 9,000 liters — has never given us any problems.

You may be wondering, if the cistern is empty, where is our water coming from? There’s a separate, above-ground tank about half this size, just beyond the photo. We switch to it when the cistern is empty which only happens in May.

We have five tanks in all, but the cistern is the largest.

To empty the cistern, I shut the valve on the pipe from the street, and it takes about two weeks to empty. After the cleaning, the valve from the street is opened again, and it takes three or four days to refill. It’s quite low tech. Old school.