Changing times

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Well, lookee here! We’ve joined the Big Time.

IN SEPTEMBER 2000, when I drove to the mountaintop in a rental car, there was a shortage of stuff like stoplights, chain stores, Gringos and the like. That has changed.

Now we have stoplights, and most people heed them. We also have chain stores like Walmart’s Bodega Aurrera, Soriana, Oxxo and Coppel, one of which is a sizable department store. We also have lots more Gringos.

When I arrived after living eight months in the nearby state capital, there were about 40 Gringos hereabouts, many of whom were oddballs and lunatics. Now there are 10 times that number. Some are oddballs, but most are normal folks, it seems.

Though I intuit that many vote in the wrong direction, a sort of lunacy.

Way back then, we had a funky movie theater. It had two screens. One showed porno, and the other showed regular fare long after it had debuted at theaters in the nearby capital city. Our theater was old and fun to visit, but it closed about 18 years ago.

The town made a big step forward last week when a movie theater opened that’s part of the Mexican Cinépolis chain, which I hear now has theaters in the United States.

First-run flicks at last. It’s like we’re not in the boonies anymore. The five-screen theater is in a large, new retail area, and other buildings are under construction. The grapevine says that one is a Domino’s Pizza. Just what we need, more pizza.

Mexicans love pizza almost as much as they love tacos, cheese and salsa, especially pizza with weenie and pineapple chunks. This is not Paris.

I’m praying for a Costco, Sears, or perhaps they’ll resurrect Bonwit Teller.

A cold, waning day

IT’S 6 P.M., and cold in the house. I’m in flannel pajamas, a heavy coat, a snazzy scarf around my neck and a watch cap on my grizzled head.

There is nothing to be done. It’s late January, and we’ve actually been lucky so far. There were light freezes on two consecutive nights earlier this month, but it’s not dipped below 32º since. Other winters have been far worse. But some have been better.

I never weary of marveling at Mexican thought processes. Of course, it could be just my wacky relatives, not Mexicans in general, but I tend to project family nuttiness onto the nation as a whole.

Last week we enjoyed about three beautiful, consecutive, mild days, so my sister-in-law stated one afternoon with a straight face that she thought winter was over. My child bride agreed. A couple of nice days, and seasons are redefined for them.

I chuckled at the absurdity, and I’ve been proven right, not surprisingly. A few days ago, it got ugly, cold, and it even rained, which is not supposed to happen in January, not here anyway. It’s the dry season. Cold is one thing. Cold and wet is worse.

A few nights ago we watched a movie on Netflix titled The Bookshop which is set in England in the late 1950s. It stars two of my favorite actors, Bill Nighy and Emily Mortimer.

Ray Bradbury is mentioned repeatedly, and it occurred to me that I have never read anything by Ray Bradbury. I downloaded a Kindle sample of Death Is a Lonely Business, and it became clear why. He’s too cutesy and wordy for my taste.

Before coming home and slipping into the flannel pajamas, I was on the main plaza downtown with a café Americano negro and a raspberry muffin from a nearby pastry shop. I pulled out my Kindle and began the Lonely Business sample.

I couldn’t cut it. One of the many great things about Kindles is that one can order free book samples. Ray Bradbury will remain alien to me, and I don’t care.

Before writing this post, I opened the Gab social media website where I have an account. Gab is the free-speech alternative to Twitter. Leftists say it’s a white-supremacy website or alt-right, whatever that is, but it’s not, although you will find lunatics there. Most are not. One of the downsides of free speech is you have to let everyone speak.

The lunatics are easily blocked.

Big Tech has done everything imaginable to destroy Gab, including barring ways to financially contribute. Just recently, Gab found a way to accept credit cards again, and I used that route today to donate a small sum plus buy a Pepe the Frog sticker for my Honda.

pepe-the-frog-sticker-telegram-meme-frogIt is en route, Gab told me. I will have the only Pepe sticker on the mountaintop although in a field between here and the nearby capital city, there is a huge boulder that appears about eight feet high and wide, and it’s been painted to look like Pepe! I keep meaning to pull over and take a photo.

I briefly read Gab daily, rarely post anything but, amazingly, have over 1,000 followers. I do use Gab’s excellent and relatively new browser, Dissenter.

Pepe the Frog has been used as a freedom symbol by those Hong Kong protesters, and everyone knows those Chinamen are white supremacists and alt-right crazies.

Well, I’ve gone on long enough. It’s dark now, and my child bride will return from the gym very soon, expecting her salad to be ready. I cannot disappoint her.

Sexual nincompoopery

PRAGER UNIVERSITY — PragerU as it’s called — is not a brick-and-mortar institution that offers degrees and such. It’s a media organization best known for its five-minute videos on what should be, but often is not, common-sense issues.

The outfit’s driving force is Dennis Prager who, during the 1990s, had a syndicated television show that I loved to watch when I lived in Houston, Texas. Prager is smart, articulate and entertaining. And he’s a very conservative Jew, so much so that he occasionally gets into controversy with his strict religious notions.

I ignore most of those notions because I really like the videos you find on PragerU’s YouTube channel. YouTube is less enthusiastic and does its best to silence him when possible. He’s currently involved, I believe, in legal action against YouTube’s censorship.

Let’s wish him all the luck.

The above video is a good example of PragerU’s common sense. Democrat “progressives” (insert chortle) advocate plenty of cultural lunacy these days, and one example is that there are oh-so-many sexes. Pick one that you feel is a good fit. Slip it on!

No, really. Don’t laugh. It’s true! They actually think that. And they’ll pound you into the dirt, figuratively or literally, if you say otherwise.

Sane people will tell you there are two sexes, but I maintain there are three. Male, female and deranged. And you cannot choose. The universe deposits you into one of the three categories. It’s out of your hands. With luck, you’re not in the third.

I landed in the first, but the second is pretty sweet too.

Two faces of lunacy

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ON THE left, you see me, the tall, pretty one, and Adrian, a good friend in those distant days. The shot comes from 1963.

California.

We were both in the Air Force, and we were standing in my barracks room, which my roommate had painted black with gold glitter.

Adrian was not my roommate. He lived in another barracks in another outfit. He was an electronics technician. I had a job that was less useful in civilian life, a survival-equipment technician.

If you want survival gear stuffed into the ejection-seat pod of an F-106, I’m your man. Oddly, after I left the military I never encountered that job opening anywhere.

Or an F-106, for that matter.

A basic knowledge of electronics, however, was quite useful, but Adrian never worked in electronics after the Air Force. He became a movie-theater projectionist, and he did that for many years. Within a decade we had lost touch, but I found him online about five years ago. It was an obituary. He died in his early 60s. The obit didn’t say why.

A sharp eye will notice a motorcycle helmet on the shelf behind us. Adrian owned a Honda Hawk 305, which was the first motorcycle I ever drove. It started my lifelong love of bikes. I wish I had one right now, but I’ve decided against suicide. I’m enjoying life too much.

Adrian got a psychiatric discharge not long after this photo was taken. Many of my friends have been mentally unstable, which says something about me, I guess.

Adrian had that slick suit tailor-made while stationed in Okinawa. I wonder why he was wearing it on that day. We never had occasion to don suits. Anyway, we had a dress Air Force uniform. Perhaps it was a manifestation of his lunacy.

Adrian was Jewish. Jews have been in and out of my life for a long time. Maybe I was a Maccabee in a former life. I am a fan of Israel.

AMLOHere’s another photo. Its connection with the previous is that it too is a shot of lunacy. It’s — and I’m almost embarrassed to tell you this — the president of Mexico, a man I refer to as el Presidente Moonbat.

How about that headgear?

Moonbat is not Jewish. Would that he were. His IQ would be higher. He likely claims to be Catholic because that’s what most Mexicans are. I’m going to save this photo and use it in all future mentions of our head of state. It captures what passes for his soul.