Saturday, July 06, 2019

Liberal hypocrisy

So as I mentioned yesterday, I am currently staying with two girls here, one is one of my bartender friends from New Orleans and the other is her lifelong pal who currently lives in Boulder, Colorado. As proud NPR-worshipping liberals and wanna-be hippies, they do not like police, the military, the patriarchy or anything related to these things. Of course they also feel unsafe enough by themselves that they practically begged me to come along and drive down and back with the bartender. (The Boulder-ite flew commercial.) in other words, they don’t need or want someone like me around until they decide that they need someone like me. The irony is delicious and I’ve made it a point to bring it up once or twice, because I’m like that.
Now tonight I’ll be leaving them for the rest of the week and moving into another place with another nice gal I know who will be in town for a bit. I’ll be about a mile away but still in the neighborhood.

In other news, I found out what happens when a gringo walks into one of those “Mexican-only” cantinas last night. Standing at the bar drinking my beer, I was approached by a little fella who made his thoughts clear regarding my presence despite the language barrier. He walked up to me and snatched a lime off my plate and stared at me as if he was daring me to do something about it. I glanced around and the whole bar was watching to see what I was going to do, even the bartenders. Clearly a retreat with honor was called for so I laughed loudly and threw twenty five pesos at the bartender and told him “cervesa for mi amigo!” (Beer for my friend). Then I downed mine and walked out. This morning a couple of the expats I ran into told me that I was insane for even walking into that place. Hell, now I know.


  1. Yeah, NOT a good place to be right now.

  2. Last night I watched a public service film about survival in Mexico.

    It involved a trio of out-of-work norteamericanos who traveled south of the border from the City of Angels to rehabilitate their fortunes and careers. Along the way, they had to contend with musical flora, the negligent homicide of a latent fencing aficionado, and a ruthless gun-runner in collusion with some northern European suppliers.

    Although hapless at times, the group leveraged the textile skills of the local populace as a force multiplier, resulting in the eradication of the strong-man's chief lieutenant, and ultimately, the strong-man himself. In so doing, they regained their confidence, and the gratitude of the liberated locals.

    Your gambit of buying a beer for your would-be oppressor seems to have served you well in defusing the situation. Should you find yourself in a cantina in need of other tactics, may I suggest a well-choreographed a capella rendition of "My Little Buttercup"?

    It worked well for the guys in the film.