My feeble mental capacity

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TRUMP FANS have become accustomed to violence, both verbal and physical, from Democrats since the Blond Bomber was elected, which sent the lefties into endless hissy fits.

Ensconced here on my Mexican mountaintop, I don’t fear being punched in the face so much as my fellow Trumpians do above the Rio Bravo. But I have had verbal run-ins with berserk, uninformed leftists, and I have known others who’ve had similar experiences.

A lifelong friend and her husband recently rented a vacation home in San Miguel de Allende where they stayed three months. She is a retired university professor with a specialty in Chinese history and culture, and her husband is also a retired teacher.

They are not bumpkins from the hills of West Virginia.

And they are YUGE Trump fans. During their stay in San Miguel they met what seemed to be a nice couple who invited them to their home one night for supper. During the evening’s conversation, my friend mentioned being a Trump supporter.

Get out! Get out! Get out!

So they departed. In the middle of dinner.

Recently, I emailed an old friend who is now living near the Gringo-infested, Mexican town of Ajijic, Jalisco. She and her husband were about the first people I met after arriving on the mountaintop from the state capital in September of 2000.

They lived directly next door to my rental. We socialized a lot. They were big party people, and I got invited over frequently. They were fun folks, chain smokers and boozers who drove an old, beat-up Ford Thunderbird sedan on its last legs.

They left our town years back due to health issues that were exacerbated by the thin mountain air. They headed to lower altitudes and moved around quite a bit.

Last week, not having heard from them in a long spell, and not knowing where they lived, I emailed her, inquiring about how they were doing and where they were. I also mentioned that I recently ran into some other old friends of theirs on our plaza.

Those people are not friends of ours, she said. They are Trump supporters! Bear in mind that these two couples were thick as thieves back then. So I responded in a jocular way, saying I too am a Trump fan. Hoo-boy! Here’s her response:

“So from your right-wing sources Fox News, Breitbart, Infowars and Russian internet trolls, you have become a supporter of a lying, corrupt, climate change denier and sexual predator who puts children in cages and hates Mexicans.* Good choice, idiot!!!”

I intuited from this that they vote Democrat. Prove me wrong.

Well, so much for them. From what I hear, lots of conservatives have lost long-term relationships, not just friends but family too, due to leftists’ inability to accept diversity of opinion. But I embrace my idiocy!!! Three exclamation points! Sad.

* * * *

* Not even one of these accusations is accurate.

(Moral to this story: Don’t booze, smoke, drive beat-up Thunderbirds or vote for the Democrat Party. Trust me on this. You’ll be a better person for it.)

And now this:

Bougainvillea battles

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Shot from upstairs terraza.

ONCE UPON a time, there was a cute little bougainvillea in a small, plastic pot. An idiot planted it into the ground.

That idiot was me.

Round about that same time, a nincompoop planted a nopal leaf — they’re called paddles — into the ground nearby.

The idiot and the nincompoop were one and the same, me. Flash forward about a decade.

The top photo shows the bougainvillea drooping over the wall toward the sex motel. This is good because it provides a grip on the wall. The only other thing supporting the bougainvillea are two, now invisible, steel chains I installed years ago.

My concern is the plant will collapse. I’ve seen it happen elsewhere. Then it must be removed, spines and all.

I bought that expandable ladder you see on the right, below, a few days ago. I’ll hire Abel the Deadpan Gardener to do some serious hacking. The wall is about 13 feet high.

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The maguey centered in the foreground of the bottom photo presents an obstacle for the positioning of the ladder, so I’ll have it removed too, including the stone circle at its base.

The nopal tree will be left in peace. I cautiously remove lots of paddles each year, those that insist on growing horizontally instead of vertically. In time, I imagine, it will simply collapse from its own weight. The “wood” is quite soft.

Moral: Do your homework before you plant, especially if you’re planting something with vicious spines and spikes.

This is doubly true if you reside in Mexico.

Triply true if you’re a nincompoop.