The news in March

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IT’S BEEN BEAUTIFUL of late, and my child bride and her sister think winter is over. Maybe it is, maybe it’s not. March is a dicey month. I took the above photo from the upstairs terraza about six or eight years ago. That’s snow on yon mountains … in March.

It did not snow that week at the Hacienda, but it was darn frigid. When the dry, warm days of April arrive, then you can declare winter’s demise, not before.

Just for the heck of it, here’s another photo taken from the upstairs terraza. It was shot in June of last year. Those are the same mountains, of course. Sweet.

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We’ve been a bit busy since we returned from Guanajuato, and we were busy before going to Guanajuato too. We’ve had a circular stairway installed from the balcony to the roof of our Downtown Casita. And now I’m waiting for our painter to finish work he’s doing for someone else in order to paint the Casita’s exterior.

And we have new cell phones, both of us, as of last week, and we bought the same model. Motorola G8 Plus, it’s called, and it’s a big improvement over her previous Samsung and my old Alcatel. There are people who still shun cell phones, which mystifies me. It’s like an electronic Swiss Army knife.

I use mine for reminders, checking my bank balance, using “virtual” credit cards so as not to get ripped off, and I’m a YouTube addict, so there’s that. Right on my Motorola. And there’s a calculator, a call blocker, the app of our car insurance which lets one immediately report an accident while the app pinpoints the car’s location.

How can you live without this stuff? Sometimes I even make calls on my phone. Messages are more common, mostly to my child bride. Speaking of calls, I recently canceled my Skype subscription after many years. It’s pricey, and I almost never used it, mostly to phone my investment company in the United States.

I discovered a better option for me. I have no interest in video calls, but I do need a U.S. number. There are several online phone services that work fine (PopTox, LetsBrik) but they don’t provide a U.S. phone number like Skype can.

It’s a sweet little app called Dingtone. You get a U.S. number, call waiting, message box, all the usual services, and it’s free to cheap. But no video calls. Meh.

I’m writing this at midday on Super Tuesday, so I don’t know the results yet. Bernie gonna win again? Are the Democrat candidates still screaming at one another? Will the Democrat National Committee steal the nomination once more from the crusty, old communist? Will the little-girl-groper Joe Biden be the nominee? Such fun!

As least Pocahontas is flaming out, silly broad. And Mayor Pete has bit the dust. I don’t think America is ready for a gay president with a First Man spouse. More to the point, I don’t think powerful, non-woke nations like China and Russia are ready for it, to put it mildly.

Too soon, way too soon.

Barbra Streisand says the United States could be “extinguished if Trump wins again. Extinguished! You just gotta howl at this stuff. Here we are, nearing the end of Trump’s first — but not last — four years, and the Republic still stands, hearty and healthy.

There are no troops goose-stepping in D.C., no midnight knocks at the door, no blacks hanging from trees. None of those Democrat predictions came true.

Quite the contrary. Things are far better than during the Obama administration. At least America doesn’t have a First Lady who is a cross-dresser.

And that’s enough news in March for now.

Hope it’s a lovely day wherever you are.

Vote Democrat fer sure

I MAY HAVE posted this last year. I’m not sure, and I’m too lazy to check.

No matter. It’s almost precisely a year more till the next presidential election, so it’s a good time to encourage you to vote Democrat and get that nasty Trump out of office.

This young blonde does a spectacular job of telling us why a Democrat vote is the only reasonable option. Down with Trump, the most appalling president in U.S. history!

So un-presidential, gruff and rude.

Vote Pocahontas or Bernie or Beto or whomever. Please!

The horrid president

GOOD LORD! Just hear the endless racism, misogyny, jingoism, bigotry and religious intolerance that spews from this orange-coifed guy’s mouth! It just turns my tummy.

And that wife! Can she even speak English?

And the dreadful things he’s done in his first six months! Here’s a list, but brace yourself. Awful, awful, awful.

The election of 2020 can’t come too soon. We’ll be able to install the Pocahontas princess in the Oval Office, and everything will be peachy again, just like with Obama.

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(Note: I’m posting the list as a public service because I doubt you’ll see it on Huffpost. I cannot imagine why.)

All shrugged out

I MET AYN Rand, briefly, at a talk she gave in 1963. It was in a smallish meeting room in a second-floor walk-up in San Francisco. I was 19 years old.

I do not recall the circumstances of being there. I had not read Rand and only knew she was famous, and the talk was free. She was there with her sidekick Nathaniel Brandon.

Flash forward more than half a century. About a month ago, I decided to read Atlas Shrugged, her magnum opus. I skipped the warm-up novel, The Fountainhead, which is somewhat less wordy, and went directly to the 1,188-page Shrug.

One of my few conscious objectives on retiring 17 years ago was to read more books. I have always been a reader, but I decided to do even more. Before retiring, I had generally avoided extremely long books for no better reason than shiftlessness.

Plus, it interfered with my drinking.

Since moving over the Rio Bravo, however, and sobering up, I turned to some really lengthy works. War and Peace, Anna Karenina, The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, etc.

All great books and, brother, are they long.

Tolstoy, I like. Dostoyevsky, not so much. I bogged down in Crime and Punishment. I made even less progress with One Hundred Years of Solitude, which I tried to read long before moving to Mexico. Maybe I should try again, but doubt I will.

Back to Ayn Rand. She’s famous, so I thought I should read her main work. I bought it on Kindle for under $5.

And I dove right in.

A wag described Rand’s works as twice as long as phone books and half as interesting. Shrug was interesting enough to hold my attention but just barely. A couple of times I decided to abandon the effort, but I soldiered on … and on … and on …

Until this week. I made it 67 percent of the way through. Kindle tells you that. I can go no further, pooped out.

Rand’s take on things is not complicated. She calls it Objectivism. You owe nobody anything, and nobody owes you anything. There is nothing metaphysical, no afterlife, no way to know anything except by reason. Your main interest should be yourself.

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My philosophy, in essence, is the concept of man as a heroic being, with his own happiness as the moral purpose of his life, with productive achievement as his noblest activity, and reason as his only absolute.

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It was surprising to see her curse notions (in 1957) that today are known as political correctness. For instance, the requirement to embrace the “correct” opinions and even, to a degree, the proper personal pronouns.

Rand and I do, however, share quite a few values of the libertarian stripe —  an aversion to taxes, a love of capitalism, minimal government and a dislike of obligatory altruism, something that should be a personal choice.

But I also believe in an afterlife. Rand did not.

Rand and I are polar opposites of Pocahontas Warren, Red Bernie, Crooked Hillary, Screaming Dean, Weepy Barry and all the other heroes of today’s Democrat Party, the party of income redistribution and pink “pussy hats.”

But if you’re ever tempted to read Atlas Shrugged or The Fountainhead, I suggest you go instead to CliffsNotes.