Drive safe, amigos!

Bulletproof, baby!

FOR THOSE who consider travel to Mexico dangerous, let me show you something you can buy — or maybe rent — before you come down to live or visit:

An armored Jeep Grand Cherokee, and the price is $1,679,900 pesos or approximately $96,000. That’s U.S. cash.

It’s waiting in the showroom here.

This means that as you are barreling down a highway, and you spot a “police” checkpoint ahead, and you’re not sure if they are real cops or just the pretend ones you have heard about, you can  floorboard your armored Jeep. Don’t stop!

You’ll be protected from the submachine-gun fire, from real or make-believe police that will be aimed your way, by the Jeep’s 19-mm-thick armor. No joke!

If the real or pretend cops do not let loose with their heaviest artillery, be secure in the knowledge that you’ll be protected from the following weaponry too:

.22 LR HV 40-grain lead, .38 Special 158 GR JSP, 9mm Parabellum 124-grain FML, .357 magnum 158-grain .44 magnum 240-grain SWC and, of course, the 9mm Parabellum 124-grain FMJ. It’s also grenade-proof! And it runs on flat tires.

This comes from the Jeep-Mexico website.

Another scenario: You’re driving through backwoods in the area around Los Reyes, Michoacán. You round a curve, and there’s a huge tree trunk across the road. All is silent.

It didn’t rain last night. Think fast!

You floorboard that mutha! It’s got four-wheel drive and is powered by 360-horse Hemi V8. You’ll fly right over the tree. If gunfire erupts from the treeline, like with Bonnie and Clyde, just remember the armor. Don’t look back.

I also visited the Jeep website for the United States. There is no armored Grand Cherokee offered. I had always assumed that armored personal cars were special orders, and it appears to be so in the United States.

But in Mexico, just stop by your local showroom.

This seems unfair. Say you encounter a Black Lives Matter gang blocking a street in Oakland, California. Or Antifa halfwits. Drive right through/over them, but they could be packing. Best to have an armored Jeep Grand Cherokee.

Say you’re driving through New York City with your red MAGA cap on your head. An armored car just makes sense.

While we have our fake cops and highway robbers in Mexico, you Gringos have your Democrats and other sorts of EPs*. In both scenarios, an armored vehicle could be a lifesaver.

Drive safe, amigos!

* * * *

* Equality people. See definition in right column.

Valley of the Shadow

Good stories from Alabama. By Ray Clifton.

Words Not On Paper

IMG_0100

It is Coleta Valley on the map.

I passed this way a few days ago.  Stopped for a photo and a memory.

Once upon a time three boys wandered into this spot in an old Jeep Ranger.  The Ranger is no more.  Neither is one of the boys.  The other two are worse for wear.

The day that old Ranger clanked into the valley the driver immediately christened it “the back side of heaven.”   It was the most beautiful landscape they had ever seen, and the name stuck, part and parcel of the bond between them.

In their boyhood journeys together it became the end of the line.  The turning-point back toward home.

The mountains in the background are a part of the Talladega National Forest and the Hollins Wildlife Management Area.  The boys spent countless teen-age hours in those mountains, learning to hunt white-tailed deer.  Never any success, as…

View original post 295 more words

The liberator

VERY INTERESTING video. Author and filmmaker Laurence Jarvik speaks for an hour on the Trump phenomenon. Among other themes, he points out that Trump is neither Democrat nor Republican but another thing altogether.

Trump is a deprogrammer of the American mind.

Blue = red

This is no joke. Equal sign. Get it?

WHAT A coincidence! It was just a few days ago that I wrote about Equality People, a term I invented. I’ve even placed a definition in the right-side column here for your convenience.

And now I’ve discovered they actually have a flag. That’s it above, and it’s no joke. This has apparently replaced the EP’s old flag, the red one with the hammer and sickle.

This is a logical development because their old flag has become laden with baggage over the decades, what with Stalin, Mao and Fidel.

And millions murdered.

Time for a fresh flag.

Makes sense they would dump red, that now being the color of conservative states where live hillbillies, rednecks, Nazis, Pentecostals and people who wed their cousins.

Blue is soothing, and it seems to be the default color online for websites and whatnot.

They want you to be soothed. Snoring is even better.

Karl Marx must be smiling.

* * * *

(Note: Here’s the Thursday news story that alerted me to the new socialist banner. Who knew?)

Churro man

THIS IS … well, I don’t know his name in spite of having known him more than a decade.

Twelve or so years ago he walked our streets with a cardboard jar requesting donations for a drug-rehab center. I don’t know if he was a patient or just a helper. I suspect the former.

But that didn’t last very long — a couple of years — and then he started selling churros, a sugar-coated pastry. He’s been doing that on downtown streets ever since.

You can hear him coming a block away as he yells churros, churros, churros. Sometimes I buy one to go with my café Americano negro. That’s what I did yesterday.

He totes the basket and loops that collapsible stand over his forearm. And he’s always very upbeat.

* * * *

(Note: For a superior version of this shot and other fabulous photos, take a look here.)

Damnable fruit

Green peaches muscling up. This is just one of many sagging branches.

MY CHILD BRIDE and I agree on lots of stuff, but the damnable fruit trees are not in that category.

She loves them. Were I living here solo I would uproot them all. Why? I’m not much of a fruit eater, and these trees, which were here when we purchased the property, toss their wares on the grass en masse, and there they rot.

And who has to clean it up? It ain’t her.

The peach tree, first photo, is unpredictable. Sometimes its bounty is beyond belief. Other years it does very little. Alas, this year is one of the bountifuls.

Pears, not quite so abundant but bigger. And the tree is very tall.

And then there is the pear, the second photo. Its output is always the same, too bountiful for my tastes, but certainly less than the peach. By the way, I’m a Georgia-born boy, and I know peaches. These Mexican peaches are sorry versions.

Throughout the summer, every day I go out and scoop up fruit from the grass, most of which have been pecked by birds or gnawed by God knows what beasts roam by night.

It is not an enviable chore.

I add this last photo, the red-hot pokers, because I love them, and I want to end on a positive note. They offer beauty instead of bother, and that’s what you want in life, especially as you age.

And it’s also why I have a Mexican child bride.

Beauty, not bother. Except for “her” fruit trees.

Red hot pokers. Pretty and peaceful. A summer blessing.

See Andraya run!

AND SEE the real girls trailing behind!

Just another — although a spectacular one — example of EP (Equality People) lunacy in America today. And all the people who think positively about this vote the Democrat Party.

Well, if they vote at all. They sure don’t vote GOP.

By the way, Andraya is an actual guy, not a transsexual. See his little teenage mustache?

He’s just identifyin’. Ya know whut I mean?

My first hummer

In memory of Jack Brock.

FOR A FEW years, since I purchased my Canon, whenever I sat on the Jesus Patio to read my Kindle, I always toted the camera and rested it on the glass-top table.

One might wonder, Why does he do that? The answer is this: I wanted a photo of a hummer. Though the little buggers are commonplace in the Hacienda yard, photographing one has proved impossible. Till yesterday, that is.

The midday was overcast. Perhaps that explains my little friend’s relative lack of shimmering color, something often seen in hummer photos. Or maybe he’s a she and, like many birds, perhaps the hummer ladies are a bit drabber.

He (or she) is puffed up a bit too, a nippy afternoon.

No matter. Like Hemingway kneeling beside an African rhino, high-powered rifle aimed skyward, I have shot my prey. There will be no more safaris. I will read my books in peace.

Life goes on.

Night blooms

WALKING INTO the dining room/kitchen last night shortly before 10, as the clock on the wall clearly indicates, I saw this, and decided to take a photograph.

It’s not a very sharp photograph because, contrary to the camera’s shrill advice, I did not use the flash, just the light hanging from the ceiling, which is not visible here.

Let’s call it a mood piece.

My child bride had turned in quite early — she was in bed with her Kindle — but I was still rambling around.

Two items of note: The wicker backs of the chairs were done years ago by my wife. They’ve held up pretty well. The second thing is the orchid on the table. It was left, already blooming, in our Downtown Casita in February by Steve Cotton.

Five  months later, it’s still in bloom. Amazing.

Nightlife.

Fact, Fiction and Opinion Stirred in an Odd Pot

%d bloggers like this: