AirBnB sinks further into P.C.

InclusionC

WE OCCASIONALLY rent our Downtown Casita to vacationers via AirBnB. I say “occasionally” but “almost never” is more accurate these days.

We purchased the place in 2010 with an inheritance I received after my mother died in 2009. We had no plans to rent it. It just seemed like a good idea at the time, an investment, and it has increased in value. Also in my mind was that my child bride might move there after my demise because the Hacienda is a handful for a single inhabitant.

Initially, we planned to overnight there on occasion for the fun of it — it’s walking distance from the main plaza — and we did for a while, and then we didn’t. We never do anymore. That’s when AirBnB came to mind. That mega-business was just gaining traction all over the world. We began to rent fairly often via AirBnB.

There were about 30 AirBnB properties in our city of about 80,000 residents when we started , and now there are over 180. That’s a whale of a lot of rentals in a relatively small tourist town, and it’s affected our business a lot. We don’t get many bites anymore.

AirBnB is based in San Francisco, California. It was launched in 2008, and the current name debuted in 2009, so you see we signed on fairly early.

Being a San Francisco company, AirBnB is firmly committed to every silly detail of politically correct nonsense, and just recently they debuted a new policy: When someone requests a reservation, AirBnB hides the profile photo from the property owner.

That’s right. Even though customers fill out a profile that includes a photo, AirBnB won’t let hosts see it until the reservation is approved. This is to avoid “discrimination” on the part of property owners. You might not want to rent to a Mexican, a gay couple, or two young women with purple bangs, nose rings and an attitude.

And they’re right about that, but if you’re a property owner, you should have the right to cull. That’s my opinion. We do cull by age, but that’s legal in Mexico. It’s not old people we don’t want. It’s young people. We embrace old people.

The way I see it is, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” You can tell a lot about looking at someone’s photo. It’s very helpful in deciding yea or nay, and I’m rather picky. We’ve had 18 rentals, ranging from two weeks (our minimum) to three months (our max) and every one has given us five stars in all categories. I’ve returned the favor.

We’ve had good people. Buena gente.

AirBnB has a written policy, and it reads like a SJW Manifesto. Diversity, inclusion, multiculturalism, respect. All that leftist hullabaloo. And now you cannot even see what potential guests look like, a very bad idea. This so-called fairness move is 100 percent in favor of guests and 100 percent against property owners.

I’ll likely be looking into other rental options, ones that favor the property owners over the tenants, ones that stick to capitalism, not Social Justice.

But we’ll stay put on AirBnB, at least till they boot me for being a Trump fan.

The Mohammedan truth

STRAIGHT FROM the proverbial horse’s mouth comes the truth about Islam.

Why do so many people who vote Democrat in the United States resist criticism of this demonic religion? And why do those same people vilify Israel, the only nation in the Mideast where women walk free … and armed.

Sad.

Ayaan Hirsi Ali believes Mohammedanism can be reformed. I think she is mistaken. First, it must be contained, then suppressed. This will not be easy.

It will be difficult in part because so many Western nations are now doing precisely the opposite, embracing the enemy. Really dumb.

A decade gone by

2014-01-10-The-TENIT WAS 10 YEARS ago about now when I was last in the United States. I don’t recall if it was just before or just after Obama’s first inauguration. I prefer to think it was before, so I can say I never set foot in Weepy Barry’s America.

There was no Black Lives Matter or Antifa, and SJW had not been invented yet. There was social strife and victimhood because multiculturalism had been boneheadedly promoted long before I departed, but nowhere near the absurd level that now exists. But I had never voted Republican.

My Democrats were not rioting in the streets. Nor were they prone to hysterics. They were more sensible people.

Visiting outside your native land is a strange sensation. Living in a world so different than that which sprouted you is odder still. Though I’m a Mexican citizen and almost never speak English, I don’t fit in below the border.

I just have to live with that. A price to pay, well worth it.

Quite a few Americans live in Mexico. The Mexican government puts the number at around 750,000, though you see much higher numbers on the internet, stated by people who don’t know what they’re talking about.

From what I read on internet forums, etc., most Americans (expats, a term I never apply to myself) in Mexico visit their homeland on a regular basis, as do Canadians. It’s like a siren call, but I’m deaf to it.

There are reasons. One is it’s very expensive up there. Two is that America has become a disappointment to me. (Former Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy recently described contemporary American culture as vulgar and slipping into moral relativism.) Three is that it’s dangerous up there. Four is there’s nothing above the border that I need.

The last time I left Mexico was in 2012 when we flew to Cuba, which is a miserable place, but it was interesting. We’ll never do that again.

The last time I was in my old hometown of Houston was either 2007 or 2008. It had changed a lot since I left in January 2000. I imagine I would be flabbergasted to see it now.

Like San Miguel de Allende, where no more Mexicans live, Houston might be the flip side, where no more Americans live, just Mexicans.

And the last visit to another old hometown, New Orleans, was 2006, about a year after Hurricane Katrina. The city was a mess.

There are some things I miss about America. Fall foliage in Atlanta. Floating in the crystal clear Sabinal River in the Hill Country of Texas not far from the town of Utopia. Hot bowls of Vietnamese pho in Houston.

But America lacks some things I enjoy here. Cows on highway overpasses. The bray of burros in the distance or just down the street. Dogs on house roofs. Real cobblestone streets. Inexpensive living. Gonging of the church bell from the plaza. Hummingbirds sitting on my aloe vera.

Lovely brown-skinned babes. One of whom I married.

I cannot imagine I’ll ever visit the United States again. When I left America I was a youngster of 55, wet behind the ears. Later this year, I’ll turn 75, mold behind the ears. It’s been quite a ride.

Inundation of irony

Screenshot
Mexicans yelling at Central Americans to go back where they came from.

I HAVE LONG preached that promoting multiculturalism is a recipe for mayhem. Examples of this age-old truth are in plain view all over the world and have been since the dawn of mankind.

We ignore it at our peril.

People are tribal. There are many tribes. One of the main ones is the nation-state. Other tribes are that of religion, language and culture. These tribes often overlap. We prefer the company of people like ourselves.

Foggy-headed leftists fight this truth as they dream of one world, no borders, and sing Kumbaya. Oh, Lord, Kumbaya. Everyone will live in harmony.

Though they never, ever have.

Above you see Mexicans in Tijuana who are unhappy, to put it mildly, at the invasion of Central Americans. They want them to beat feet back where they came from. I pray you see the knee-deep irony.

* * * *

I just finished a fascinating book that relates to this topic. Its title is Enoch Was Right: “Rivers of Blood” 50 Years On. That would be the brilliant British parliamentarian Enoch Powell who famously delivered a speech on April 20, 1968, in which he eloquently warned of the danger of uncontrolled immigration from nations that are drastically different from Great Britain.

The Establishment reviled him. Today, dangerous, ethnic ghettos abound in Great Britain full of folks maintaining the ways of their tribes back in Syria, Kenya, Sudan, etc., and Brits are arrested, prosecuted and imprisoned for complaining about it in public.

Let us pause now for another verse of Kumbaya.

Or perhaps not.