tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74472529696366892562024-03-18T20:56:00.742-06:00Rikk UtasFROM CITY TO FARM or I'VE GOT THE COCK, NOW WHAT .... Ramblings political, humourous, opinionated and/or creative writing from a man in fluxRikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-26045801427080715282014-08-19T13:44:00.001-05:002014-08-19T13:44:04.510-05:002014 08 19So, my husband and I got motivated to move out of Zamora, by a variety of things/occurences, and thought we'd try the coast. Puerto Vallarta, to be precise. We went on-line and found a condo to rent for the month, got our asses out to the coast by bus and then sweated for 30 days. And nights, I might add. We had a good time, swimming in the pool, eating all sorts of foods that we can't get here in Zamora and generally not doing much of import. We'd seen a house for rent on-line that looked interesting in the photos, and contacted the owner and went to see it. Lovely place, and it actually looked just the way the photos showed, so uncommon in real estate photos. Unfortunately, I can't/couldn't breathe in the humid hot air, and June is apparently better than any other month from June to September, depending on which local is exaggerating the size of the fish he's caught. Oh, sorry, the quality of heat and humidity he has survived. So, no coastal living, no quick access for the husband to the ocean, no more access to not-bad sushi and good to great fish'n'chips for us. The kayak the husband laboriously dragged from California to here will remain in dry dock for some time yet.<br />
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We talked, and when we got back, we decided to leave the house (currently nicknamed Casa de las Putas) we were in and move to a new one. There are many reasons for this move, all of them called Lulu or Pau. Or the Vengeful Sluts( in the collective), depending on my mood. These are the daughters of the owner whom are supposedly responsible for the house in which we were living. The oven didn't work: tough shit, we are not going to replace it. Well, I don't really need an oven, I never cook for more than six anymore, and my little countertop convection glass oven invention thing will work. When they showed me the house, there was scalding hot water in the kitchen. When we moved in, the hot water in the kitchen had disappeared. I eventually discovered that in order to get hot water in the kitchen, something in the connections on the roof between the solar water heater and the supply pipes had to be switched around, which cut off water to some part of the house. Last June, after a freak heavy rain, the roof proved to be leaking into the bedroom we were using. Partly the rain, partly the fact that the water storage 'tinaco' was dripping into the same spot all the time, and partly that the drain had been half-closed by the last application of waterproofing. I complained. Pau sent a man to look. They came back and scraped up all the old waterproofing, took out the old cement/asbestos water storage tank, cleaned out the drain - and left. Not to be seen again until December 23. In May of 2014, I finally got fed up and paid a contractor to waterproof the roof anddo repairs and deducted said cost from the rent. In June, the month we spent in PV, my friends and protectors Miguel and Paul paid the rent for June. But they gave it, in an envelope with the receipt for the roof, to Pau's son. When I got back in July, Pau asked me for the rent for June. In short, they are lying cheating Vengeful Sluts scum, and we decided it was time to leave the house.<br />
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I hated the kitchens in our first two houses here: both of them were small, no counter space, and so narrow that, with a rag tied to my ass, I could prepare dinner and clean the wall behind me at the same time. Brings to mind old joke about the unreasonable boss and the worker with too few hands, broom up the ass - that old thing. Anyway, I liked the kitchen in the Casa de las Putas a lot better, so I rented it despite the no oven thing. This house has a kitchen counter of approximately 4 metres' length, enough room for two to pass without having intimate relations, and a counter open to the dining room, making the kitchen part of the life of the dinner party. Storage space! counter space! working oven! It is older, which in this country really does mean better built, and it has some of the problems of all older buildings, door handles getting gunked with age and dust and odin-knows-what, scratches in surfaces that have been very badly repaired, nothing too major, so far. Lots of safe parking. On a corner lot, and taller than most of what's around us, we get breezes and sunshine. We're close to the central market (think fresh veg and fruit all year round) and there is a chain grocery store a couple of blocks away. Noisy during the day, usually quiet at night. So far, I'm loving it, to quote McDonalds' ad agency. <br />
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And the most fun? - having to move without benefit of husband, who had made plans months ago to spend 7 weeks in the Untidy States relaxing and enjoying himself with old friends. With a bad back, and a bout of pneumonia. He gets home in about two weeks; I'm thinking I'll let him live the childhood nightmare of abandonment: coming home from a week at camp to discover that the family has moved away without leaving a forwarding address. (joking, in case you missed that) <br />
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I am so grateful to Miguel and his skills, he has kept us organised, found helpers and generally done a lot of heavy lifting (literally and figuratively) to get us moved. The story of how he came to live with us is for another post, I have to go feed the cats.Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-8392309451304048762013-11-20T00:33:00.000-06:002013-11-20T00:33:02.815-06:002013 11 20So, I haven't posted a damn thing in a looooong time. It is not that I have had nothing to say, it is that I have had a lot of trouble finding ways to say them without using every pejorative obscene vulgar word I know. Nor could I find a way to be amusing which is, of course, the purpose of this blog.<br />
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I still don't have a way to be amusing; I am posting this just to prove that I am still alive. I don't have the rural ranch to write about, the sheep and the snakes and the antics of the dogs. I do have noisy inconsiderate culturally backward neighbours waking me up at 02:00 playing the fucking trumpet, outside in the cool of the night. When the metal can't keep up with the changes in temperature and therefore intonation suffers. Or the player is too drunk to keep his embouchure correct. Or the player is just a fucking idiot with no talent, which actually seems to apply to most of the music we hear around here. See? having trouble being funny.<br />
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I am going to go meditate now.Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-88652596694047290942012-07-26T10:43:00.001-05:002012-07-26T10:43:46.568-05:00plus ça change ....<br />
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In other words, the South Dakota court thinks, and I use the term loosely, that their myth-based belief system trumps common law, common sense and facts. Who'd a thunk it?</div>
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In a blow to judicial prudence and common sense a South Dakota federal appeals court ruled 7 - 4 that it was indeed <a href="http://www.ca8.uscourts.gov/opndir/12/07/093231P.pdf" rel="nofollow" style="color: #237ad1; font-weight: bold; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; text-decoration: underline;">legal to require doctors to tell abortion patients the day before their procedure that they will be at risk for suicide.</a> The warning of suicide that doctors are now forced to give has never been medically or scientifically proven. Because of this, opponents call it nothing but a scare tactic.</div>
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The ruling overturned a previous decision made in September 2011 that said the requirement was not within the realms of the law. That decision was in response to a 2005 law which required all abortion practitioners to notify in writing, "all medical risks of the procedure" which allegedly included "risk of suicide." Again, the claim was made without evidence.</div>
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This matters not to the South Dakota court. The statistics quoted by the state were investigated by the <a href="http://www.apa.org/" rel="nofollow" style="color: #3e72a7; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;">American Psychological Association</a> and <a href="http://www.apa.org/pi/women/programs/abortion/index.aspx" rel="nofollow" style="color: #3e72a7; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;">found to be misleading</a>. In nearly <a href="http://www.apa.org/pubs/journals/features/amp-64-9-863.pdf" rel="nofollow" style="color: #3e72a7; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;">every case</a>of suicide after abortion the patient was afflicted with a variety of mental factors including a history of domestic violence, mental illness, drug use, young age, and poor family life. None of the underlining [sic] conditions were taken into consideration.</div>
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Instead the court <a href="http://www.reuters.com/article/2012/07/24/us-usa-abortion-southdakota-idUSBRE86N1DM20120724" rel="nofollow" style="color: #3e72a7; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline;">wrote a bizarre ruling</a> claiming that "conclusive proof of causation is not required." Therefore the court acknowledges that the ruling was not based on fact and not based on medically sound advice -- but rather for what was emotionally convenient for them.</div>Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-4545834389418555112012-07-25T21:22:00.002-05:002012-07-25T21:22:26.610-05:00illuminating myth-based hatred<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I found this interesting. In some cases, my responses would be slightly different, but I think this author has pretty-much called it on this one. Why is it that so many conservative questions use such pejorative forms?</span></h1>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">[ copied from ]: http://wakingupnow.com/blog/are-you-a-pro-gay-bigot-2?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+wakingupnow+%28wakingupnow.com%29</span></h1>
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Are You a Pro-Gay Bigot?</h1>
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I came across this list of twenty questions on a conservative web site under the title, “Are You a Pro-Gay Bigot?” The questions reveal quite a lot about about the author’s mentality. Here are the questions, with my own answers to each.</div>
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<strong>1. Do you believe in free speech about homosexuality for everyone except conservatives or Christians?</strong></div>
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No, I believe in free speech for everyone.</div>
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<strong>2. Do you participate in name-calling of those who object to homosexuality — names like bigot, hate-monger, etc.?</strong></div>
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No. It takes more than an objection to homosexuality. Here are the people I call bigots:</div>
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<li>People who bully, assault, and kill gays because of their sexual orientation.</li>
<li>People who think gays should be imprisoned or put to death.</li>
<li>People who devote their professional lives to stripping gays of their rights.</li>
<li>People who make sweeping generalizations about the character of gay people.</li>
<li>People who automatically believe any anti-gay statement they read, while shutting their eyes to contradictory facts and evidence.</li>
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<strong>3. Do you believe ‘gays’ have been deprived of the right to marry? Doesn’t pretty much everyone have the right to marry now — to a person of the opposite sex?</strong></div>
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a. Yes I do.</div>
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b. No they don’t. Here are three responses:</div>
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<li>Do you really think we’ve achieved equality and freedom just because I have the right to do what YOU want me to do? That’s not equality or freedom — that’s putting you in charge of me.</li>
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<li>Your question is based on the principle that if everyone has the same rights, then everything must be okay. But does this principle hold true? Apply it to religion: Suppose we passed a Constitutional amendment shutting down all non-Christian places of worship. Your principle would suggest that no one has been deprived of their rights because everyone has the same right to enter a Christian Church — and if everyone has the same rights, then we’re fine. That would be ludicrous, so your principle is flawed.</li>
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<li>If only same-sex marriages were allowed, and all opposite-sex marriages were invalidated, would straights think they’ve been deprived of their right to marry? I’d like to see someone do on a poll on that question.</li>
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<strong>4. Do you believe those who object to homosexuality are motivated by fear or ignorance? Do you believe they could never be motivated by compassion for the people involved, and if they say so, they must be lying?</strong></div>
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a. For the most part, yes. I was raised to be afraid of gays and was kept ignorant of the facts by my parents (who were trying to “protect” me and had themselves been taught untruths), by my church, by my public school teachers, and by the media. I think this is true of most people, not just me.</div>
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b. I do believe some anti-gays are motivated by compassion — a compassion based on ignorance and fear. They’re trying to “rescue” me from something they fear, they know nothing of, and they’ve been lied to about by people they trust.<span id="more-6512"></span></div>
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<strong>5. Do you believe some people will just inevitably be homosexual, and that there’s a set percentage of the population that will always be ‘gay’, and that this won’t increase, even if a culture embraces ‘gay’ sex? Do you think homosexual experimentation could never become ‘chic’ and popular? Is there no risk for the people involved or our culture if this happens?</strong></div>
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a. Of course. There’s me, so that’s at least one. And while it’s possible that more people will engage in gay sex if the culture embraces it, we won’t see an increase the number of people who are actually gay.</div>
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b. Anything could become “chic and popular.” Especially if it has the lure of the “forbidden” around it.</div>
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c. All sex carries a measure of emotional and physical risk. That’s why we need realistic and genuinely useful sex education, not “abstinence” programs that lead kids into risky behavior (like unprotected anal sex) because that way they can still think of themselves as virgins.</div>
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<strong>6. Do you automatically dismiss any conservative comments about homosexuality without listening? Do you believe you are well-informed, while refusing to learn about what homosexuals actually do and the risks involved?</strong></div>
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a. No. I dismiss lots of conservative comments because I <em>do</em> listen. And then I write a blog post detailing the factual and logical errors.</div>
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b. I do believe I am well-informed, despite the best efforts of conservatives to deceive the public about what homosexuals actually do.</div>
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<strong>7. Do you believe that the tragedy of any suicide by someone involved in homosexuality is the fault of conservatives? Is the best solution to these tragedies to demand that everyone in America accept homosexuality?</strong></div>
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a. No. People — straight and gay — commit suicide for many reasons. I do believe, however, that quite a few suicides (especially teen suicides) are the fault of those people — liberal or conservative — who perpetuate lies about homosexuality.</div>
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b. I believe many teens now dead would still be alive if their parents (and our culture) were more accepting of homosexuality, rather than telling kids that all gays are despicable, selfish people who prey on children and can never know love.</div>
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<strong>8. Do you automatically dismiss the idea that anyone could be a former homosexual, despite the hundreds of groups started by ex-‘gays’ and the thousands who live in America?</strong></div>
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Please define “former homosexual.” Many ex-gay groups say they cannot take away your homosexual urges but can help you stop acting on them. That’s an odd definition of “former homosexual.” Sounds like a celibate gay to me, and yes, I do believe some gays are celibate.</div>
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<strong>9. Do you believe that homosexuals are born that way? Do you refuse to consider the evidence against this claim? Have you ever looked at the connection between child sexual abuse and later homosexual attraction?</strong></div>
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a. I don’t know.</div>
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b. The “evidence against this claim” tends to be weak. People point to a lack of definitive evidence in favor of the claim, and erroneously call that evidence against it. They also say things like, “We’ve mapped the human genome without finding a gay gene, so it doesn’t exist,” which does nothing but illustrate their ignorance of what genome-mapping means. Or they assume “born that way” means “100% genetic” and ignore research on things like pre-natal hormones.</div>
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c. Have you ever looked at the connection between child sexual abuse and later heterosexual attraction?</div>
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<strong>10. Do you believe that only churches that accept homosexuality have interpreted the Bible in the ‘correct’ way? Do you feel it isn’t necessary to read the relevant Bible passages yourself, all of which are straightforward in condemning homosexual acts? Do you believe it’s impossible to be “kind” and oppose homosexuality?</strong></div>
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a. I only have access to a translation of a copy of a copy of the Bible, so I can’t speak on the correct interpretation of the Bible.</div>
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b. Again, I can’t read ancient languages, and even if I could, no one has access to the original documents, so no one can really read the relevant passages themselves, much less claim they are “straightforward.”</div>
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c. No, I think it’s possible. There’s so much deception from the anti-gay leadership, it twists the kind impulses of some people into tragically ugly statements and actions</div>
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<strong>11. Are you quick to say “Judge not, lest you be judged” ( Matthew 7:1) and similar passages, without understanding the Christian theology behind it, and all the while being very judgmental yourself?</strong></div>
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No.</div>
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<strong>12. Do you sincerely believe Jesus would have accepted homosexual sex acts? Do you believe Jesus is cool with whatever anyone wants to do? Do you believe there’s such a thing as ‘sin’ and if so, how is it defined? Are you the one who defines sin for yourself? Do you have no need of a savior and if not, wasn’t Christ’s death and resurrection pretty pointless? Despite all these contradictory and self-constructed beliefs, do you consider yourself a “Christian”?</strong></div>
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a. I don’t know and neither do you.</div>
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b. No.</div>
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c. I think of sin as a religious concept that differs from religion to religion. I do believe in right and wrong, and I think “wrong” is defined by treating others as objects and things for your disposal rather than as human beings who deserve the same kindness, generosity, and respect you would want for yourself.</div>
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d. Life is hard and we all long for a savior sometimes. Christ’s death wasn’t pointless because it gave rise to a religion that has, in various times and various places, inspired humanity to greatness and led it to horrific acts of evil. I don’t have evidence that the resurrection happened.</div>
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e. I do not consider myself a Christian. But what contradictory beliefs are you talking about? You didn’t even know the answers to my questions when you wrote that. Is this a thought-provoking questionnaire or merely yet another listing of stereotype and prejudice?</div>
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<strong>13. Do you believe sweeping stereotypes, like that all ‘gay’ people are innocent victims or that all conservatives must be mean and stupid?</strong></div>
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No. Do you believe the many negative sweeping stereotypes about gays?</div>
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<strong>14. Do you close your ears and figure it’s a conservative plot if you hear that at least 2/3 of all the HIV transmission in the United States still involves males having anal sex with each other?</strong></div>
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No. But if conservatives believe this then I have to wonder why so many of them oppose realistic sex education.</div>
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<strong>15. Do you believe anyone who objects to homosexuality is automatically “hateful,” while you seethe with hate yourself?</strong></div>
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No. And I’ve <a href="http://wakingupnow.com/blog/no-h8" style="color: blue; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">written </a>at length to that effect.</div>
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<strong>16. Do you believe it’s okay for thirteen- year- olds to learn at school that they have the right to have homosexual sex with each other? Do you close your ears when concerned parents are outraged? Would you call such parents “ignorant” and accuse them of “censorship”?</strong></div>
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a. I don’t know what you mean by “they have the right.” I do believe that thirteen year-olds should be taught the information they need to protect themselves from doing permanent harm to themselves, and I’m amazed anyone could advocate otherwise.</div>
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b. No.</div>
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c. I would call the parents ignorant if they were ignorant, but not if they weren’t. I don’t throw around the term “censorship” lightly.</div>
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<strong>17. Do you believe that, after several thousand years where most cultures have prohibited homosexuality, only now the ‘real’ truth is emerging? Do you believe this is not an arrogant, narrow or immature position?</strong></div>
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a. Have most cultures prohibited homosexuality? Certainly ancient Greece and Rome, from which our own culture derived, did not have blanket prohibitions on homosexuality. And what do you mean by “prohibit”?</div>
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b. No, for two reasons.</div>
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<li>I do not think it’s arrogant, narrow, or immature to think for yourself. I find your question appalling, frankly.</li>
</ul>
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<li>I also find it a bit frightening that you think it’s arrogant, narrow, and immature to move beyond the moral code of our ancient ancestors, who once believed it was fine to rape women as long as they belonged to a different tribe. Do you think we were arrogant, narrow, and immature to outlaw rape?</li>
</ul>
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<strong>18. Do you believe that ‘gays’ are the target of widespread violence that goes unpunished in the United States? Do you understand that hate crimes stats don’t support this claim and that laws already exist to punish all crimes, no matter why they are committed? Would you be unconcerned about overall civil liberties if trumped -up charges of so-called “hate speech” were used to silence people?</strong></div>
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a. Yes.</div>
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b. <a href="http://wakingupnow.com/blog/tvc-dishonest-or-dumb" style="color: blue; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">No</a>, I do not understand that hate crimes stats “don’t support” this claim. Yes, I do understand that laws already exist to punish all crimes — do <em>you</em> realize that this statement is an empty tautology?</div>
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c. I am in fact concerned about countries in Europe outlawing hate speech against gays, Christians, and so on, and I’ve <a href="http://wakingupnow.com/blog/hating-hate-speech-laws" style="color: blue; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">written</a> to that effect. Fortunately, in the US, there is no such thing as a legal charge of “hate speech,” and the First Amendment prevents such a thing from happening here. I wish conservatives understood that, too.</div>
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<strong>19. Do you believe that conservatives are making a big deal out of a behavior that has no harmful effects on individuals, families, communities, or societies? Do you scoff at any claims that serious public health issues are involved, like sexually transmitted diseases or risks to children?</strong></div>
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a. I believe that many conservatives are making a <em>dishonest</em> deal out of something — not a behavior, but an intrinsic human trait — that can be a source of joy and of harm (just like heterosexuality).</div>
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b. I do not scoff at <em>serious</em> public health claims. I believe we need realistic sex education about sexually transmitted diseases and risks to children associated with sexuality in general (not just hetero or homo).</div>
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<strong>20. And–very big question: Is your need for other people’s approval greater than your appreciation of truth? Do you refuse to consider an unpopular viewpoint because it might make you appear unenlightened to some people? If your mind and heart changed about this issue, would you have the courage to be a rebel for a worthy cause, to speak up and inform family, friends–and fellow humans who are involved in homosexuality?</strong></div>
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a. We all struggle with this issue throughout our lives. You can be sure an openly gay person has struggled successfully at least once, by coming out of the closet and living in truth rather than hiding for fear of losing the approval of the people around them.</div>
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b. No.</div>
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c. Yes. And in fact I get enormous satisfaction from being a small rebel in a great and worthy cause — the crusade for truth, dignity, and equality. Wait — are you people claiming to see <em>yourselves</em> as rebels?</div>
</div>Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-38736194929885019192012-07-23T11:06:00.001-05:002012-07-23T11:06:39.626-05:00Education<br />
I have been whingeing lately about the lack of support for teachers - and education in general - in the 'conservative' platforms in Canada. I started at a school in Edmonton which had an advanced learner's programme, in which we were basically told: here, learn stuff. I don't think that this was a privileged-class phenomenon; there were a couple of kids from each grade in one room with one teacher, and we appeared, at least in my memory, to be from all kinds of families and every race. And it certainly was not something that my family could have afforded to pay for, my father was working part-time and attending University. When my father graduated at the age of forty and moved the family to a small town in the north, I was miserable for the rest of my school 'career' because the new schools weren't prepared to deal with advanced students. I managed to not get into too much serious trouble, and learned to think for myself despite the lack of support. I had one barely-qualified teacher try to fail me in grade eleven because she was so ill-prepared for and or so hated her job that I was too much of a challenge. Didn't happen, due to the intervention of people who were her superiors and or my parents.<br />
<br />
Anyway, many years later, I started the pre-qualifying classes at a community college in northern California in order to become a nurse, a profession that would help me qualify for legal status in the Untidy States so I could legally live with my partner. Didn't pan out the way we planned, but the relevant-to-this-whinge thing about the process was that I was required to take a low-level English class, a mostly remedial programme in actuality. The same thing has been happening in Canada, by the way, as many Universities started - in the late 1980s early 1990s - requiring incoming first-year students to take remedial English as they weren't being taught it in high school. No big deal, one does what one must. The professor wrote on my first graded assignment: congratulations to the Canadian educational system. I got a 100 per cent grade for the class for the semester. I initially resented the credit going to the school system, but hey, I did/do in fact owe a lot of thanks to the system and to individual teachers.<br />
<br />
For some unknown reason, the Texas school system sets the standard for a lot of, if not all of, the rest of the USA. It manages to influence the content and availability of textbooks throughout the country. I came across this post from care2.com. I can't be bothered to correct all of the grammatical stupidity - 'fail' is not a noun - as it's a battle against an unarmed opponent, but the actual content of the state party platform should terrify the hell out of you.<br />
<br />
[quoted from] Mindy Townsend:<br />
<br />
As if we needed more evidence that the GOP wants to keep people stupid, the Texas Republican party has made it all but explicit. The state party platform is about as anti-education as it gets. To wit:<br />
<br />
We oppose the teaching of Higher Order Thinking Skills (HOTS) (values clarification), critical thinking skills and similar programs that are simply a relabeling of Outcome-Based Education (OBE) (mastery learning) which focus on behavior modification and have the purpose of challenging the student’s fixed beliefs and undermining parental authority.<br />
<br />
There is so much fail in the quoted paragraph. They oppose teaching critical thinking skills. They oppose teaching critical thinking skills. As Valerie Strauss points out in The Washington Post, it’s not clear whether critical thinking skills can be taught, but, come on, I wasn’t born yesterday. That’s not what the Texas GOP is talking about. How do I know? Check out that last line. They oppose teaching programs that “have the purpose of challenging the student’s fixed beliefs…”<br />
<br />
[Valerie Strauss is an idiot, of course critical thinking can be taught. Does she think we spring fully-educated from the ashes of a previous Einstein?? The WashPost is mostly a Republican mouth-piece anyway, so ...]<br />
<br />
Challenging “fixed beliefs”<br />
<br />
What the what? The only education worth providing will challenge a student’s fixed beliefs. What is the point of going to school if you don’t learn new things from different perspectives? And, evidently, students in Texas can forget about thinking critically about the perspectives from which information is taught! They might as well just hang out at the mall.<br />
<br />
[And they do]<br />
<br />
However, this really isn’t even consistent with another plank in the platform. Later in the document, the Texas GOP says this:<br />
<br />
We support school subjects with emphasis on the Judeo-Christian principles upon which America was founded and which form the basis of America’s legal, political and economic systems. We support curricula that are heavily weighted on original founding documents, including the Declaration of Independence, the US Constitution, and Founders’ writings.<br />
<br />
Ohhhhhhkay. But what if a student is Buddhist, or Jain, or – Thor forbid! – atheist? Those Judeo-Christian principles would challenge that student’s fixed beliefs. I guess those beliefs aren’t as important as the correct Christian beliefs.<br />
<br />
So the blog-o-sphere went kind of nuts when the platform was published earlier this month. As a result, the party has said that the whole thing was one big mistake.<br />
<br />
Um, excuse me for using my critical thinking skills, but really? Someone had to propose this plank, write it down, and then the party had to vote on it. The party voted to make this the platform, you guys! They signed their name[s] to it! Mistake my foot. Their only mistake was thinking that no one would notice.<br />
<br />
It gets(even) better<br />
<br />
However, this implausible excuse only really applies to that one particular plank. Let’s take a look at some of the other droplets from this fountain of ignorance:<br />
<br />
American Identity Patriotism and Loyalty – We believe the current teaching of a multicultural curriculum is divisive. We favor strengthening our common American identity and loyalty instead of political correctness that nurtures alienation among racial and ethnic groups. Students should pledge allegiance to the American and Texas flags daily to instill patriotism.<br />
<br />
College Tuition – We recommend three levels of college tuition: In-state requiring proof of Texas legal citizenship, out-of-state requiring proof of US citizenship, and nonresident legal alien. Non-US citizens should not be eligible for state or federal grants, or loans.<br />
<br />
Controversial Theories – We support objective teaching and equal treatment of all sides of scientific theories. We believe theories such as life origins and environmental change should be taught as challengeable scientific theories subject to change as new data is produced. Teachers and students should be able to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of these theories openly and without fear of retribution or discrimination of any kind.<br />
<br />
Early Childhood Development – We believe that parents are best suited to train their children in their early development and oppose mandatory pre-school and Kindergarten. We urge Congress to repeal government-sponsored programs that deal with early childhood development.<br />
<br />
Educational Entitlement – We encourage legislation that prohibits enrollment in free public schools of non-citizens unlawfully present in the United States.<br />
<br />
Parental Rights in Education – We believe the right of parents to raise and educate their children is fundamental. Parents have the right to withdraw their child from any specialized program. We urge the Legislature to enact penalties for violation of parental rights.<br />
<br />
Sex Education – We recognize parental responsibility and authority regarding sex education. We believe that parents must be given an opportunity to review the material prior to giving their consent. We oppose any sex education other than abstinence until marriage.<br />
<br />
Religious Freedom in Public Schools – We urge school administrators and officials to inform Texas school students specifically of their First Amendment rights to pray and engage in religious speech, individually or in groups, on school property without government interference. We urge the Legislature to end censorship of discussion of religion in our founding documents and encourage discussing those documents.<br />
<br />
School Health Care – We urge legislators to prohibit reproductive health care services, including counseling, referrals, and distribution of condoms and contraception through public schools. We support the parents’ right to choose, without penalty, which medications are administered to their minor children. We oppose medical clinics on school property except higher education and health care for students without parental consent.<br />
<br />
These are just the most egregious bits in the education section of the platform. Excuse me. My brain has just exploded from all the fail.<br />
<br />
Read more: http://www.care2.com/causes/dumb-platform-wants-to-keep-kids-dumb-dummy.html#ixzz21PoFN4u6<br />
<div>
<br /></div>Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-68222946141545137832012-06-24T16:08:00.001-05:002012-06-24T16:10:24.359-05:00stolen from Samuel Warde, grammar corrections by yours truly<br />
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In Canada, replace "Tea Party" with "Stephen Harper", "Wildrose Party" or "Conservative Party".</h1>
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Tea Party Dictionary Definitions: Fun with Vocabulary</h1>
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Written by <a href="http://samuel-warde.com/author/samuelblog/" rel="author" style="color: #666666; font-size: 11px; text-decoration: none;" title="Posts by Samuel Warde">Samuel Warde</a> <span class="meta-sep" style="color: #999999; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 3px; margin-right: 3px; margin-top: 0px;">|</span> <span class="meta-date">June 17, 2012</span> <span class="meta-sep" style="color: #999999; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 3px; margin-right: 3px; margin-top: 0px;">|</span> <span class="meta-comments"><a href="http://samuel-warde.com/2012/06/fun-with-vocabulary-tea-party-definitions/#respond" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: url(http://samuel-warde.com/wp-content/themes/forester/images/comment.png); background-origin: initial; background-position: 100% -2px; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; color: #666666; font-size: 11px; padding-right: 18px; text-decoration: none;" title="Comment on Tea Party Dictionary & Definitions – Fun with Vocabulary">0</a></span></div>
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<strong><a href="http://samuel-warde.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/Tea-Party-Logo.jpg" style="color: #15527e; text-decoration: none;"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-full wp-image-215" height="212" src="http://samuel-warde.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/05/Tea-Party-Logo.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;" title="Tea Party Logo" width="300" /></a>Abortion</strong> n. A deeply personal medical decision made by a woman and her legislators.</div>
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<strong>Activist</strong> n. Anyone with whom you disagree.</div>
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<strong>Activist judge</strong> n. A judge who attempts to protect the rights of minorities, most especially homosexuals.</div>
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<strong>Agenda</strong> n. All political objectives you oppose. Republicans have “hopes” and “dreams”, not agendas.</div>
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<strong>Alternative energy sources</strong> interj. Slang. New locations to drill for gas and oil.</div>
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<strong>Animals</strong> n. Creatures put here for the sport of hunting.</div>
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<strong>Bible-based</strong> adj. Anything in the Bible with which you agree.</div>
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<strong>Born-again</strong> <strong>Christian</strong> n. Anyone who has experienced a personal spiritual awakening resulting in agreement with your ideas and values. Otherwise, see “<em>cult</em>“.</div>
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<strong>Bureaucrat</strong> n. A Democrat working for the government. See “<em>public servant</em>” for Republicans working for the government.</div>
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<strong>Capital Punishment</strong> n. Kill them all and let God sort them out.</div>
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<strong>Children</strong> n. Source of future soldiers.</div>
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<strong>China</strong> n. See “<em>Wal-Mart</em>“.</div>
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<strong>Civil liberties</strong> n. Unnecessary privileges that you aren’t afraid of losing unless you are a God-hating, baby-killing, elitist liberal who loves socialism.</div>
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C<strong>ivil rights</strong> n. The concept of equal legal rights for all except women, gays and poor people.</div>
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<strong>Class warfare</strong> interj. Slang. Any attempt to raise the minimum wage.</div>
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<strong>Compassionate conservatism</strong> n. Poignant concern for the very wealthy.</div>
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<strong>Cult</strong> n. Any religious organization that does not practice conservative Biblical literalism.</div>
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<strong>Domestic violence</strong> n. A mythical problem created by liberal socialists and ,as such, it has no affect upon the family and does not injure women and children.</div>
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<strong>Elitists</strong> n. Persons who are educated.</div>
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<strong>Energy independence</strong> n. The wildlife relocation program.</div>
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<strong>Evolution</strong> n. A false liberal theory that conflicts with God’s dominion over man.</div>
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<strong>Faith-Based Initiative</strong> interj. Slang. Pay-off to the Christian right.</div>
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<strong>Family</strong> n. A heterosexual male head of the household married to a heterosexual female homemaker for life. See also “<em>the war on gays</em>“.</div>
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<strong>Free markets</strong> n. Halliburton no-bid contracts at taxpayer expense.</div>
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<strong>Gay Christians</strong> n. An oxymoron.</div>
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<strong>Girly-Men</strong> n. Males who do not grope women.</div>
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<strong>God</strong> n. Senior Republican adviser.</div>
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<strong>Gravity</strong> n. A false theory not supported by the Bible. See “<em>evolution</em>”</div>
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<strong>Growth</strong> n. 1. The justification for tax cuts for the rich. 2. What happens to the national debt when Republicans cut taxes on the rich.</div>
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<strong>Gun control</strong> n. The index finger.</div>
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<strong>Habeas corpus</strong> n. Archaic. (Lat.) Legal term no longer in use. See “<em>Patriot Act</em>“.</div>
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<strong>Hollywood</strong> n. The source of great evil in the world.</div>
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<strong>Homosexual agenda, the</strong> interj. Slang. Homos exercising free speech. When Republican do the same, it is called “grassroots citizens’ movement”.</div>
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<strong>Honor</strong> n. The state of not getting caught.</div>
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<strong>Jesus</strong> n. A conservative Republican leader whom many falsely claim to have said ”turn the other cheek” and “love thy neighbor”.</div>
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<strong>Laziness</strong> n. When the poor are not working.</div>
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<strong>Leisure time</strong> n. When the wealthy are not working.</div>
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<strong>Liberal</strong> n. Followers of the Anti-Christ.</div>
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<strong>Liberal bias</strong> n. The facts do not fit our narrative.</div>
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<strong>Libertarianism</strong> n. Survival of the fittest.</div>
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<strong>Media</strong> n. An organization responsible for abortion, the breakdown of the traditional family unit, earthquakes, illiteracy, sexual addictions and teenage pregnancy.</div>
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<strong>Patriot Act </strong>n. The pre-emptive strike on American freedoms to prevent the terrorists from destroying them first.</div>
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<strong>Pro-family politician</strong> n. Any divorced congressman late on child support payments who is against gay marriage. [Being divorced 3 or more times is a plus.]</div>
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<strong>Pro-life</strong> adj. Valuing human life until birth but then not caring until the individual reaches the age limit for the draft. See also “<em>pro-war</em>” and “pr<em>o-death penalty</em>“.</div>
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<strong>Pro-lifer</strong> n. A person willing to murder physicians and/or women to protect the rights of blastomeres, embryos or fetuses.</div>
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<strong>Rehabilitation</strong> n. A false belief. See also “<em>evolution</em>” and “<em>gravity”.</em></div>
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<strong>Religion</strong> n. The preferred curriculum for schools instead of science.</div>
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<strong>Religious freedom</strong> n. The right to spread literalist biblical Christianity.</div>
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<strong>Same-sex marriage</strong> interj. Slang. An abomination to the Lord as are interfaith and interracial marriages.</div>
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<strong>Shared Sacrifice</strong> n. Lower salaries and benefits for the working class and lower taxes for the ultra-rich.</div>
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<strong>Staying the course</strong> interj. Slang. Saying and doing the same stupid thing over and over, regardless of the result.</div>
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<strong>Traditional values</strong> n. The classic beliefs that made America great such as lynching blacks and keeping women pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen in servitude for life.</div>
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<strong>Voter fraud</strong> n. A significant minority turnout at the polls.</div>
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<strong>Woman</strong> n. Person who must have all decisions regarding her reproductive health services made by men she would never have sex with in the first place. See “<em>homemakers” “mothers”</em> and “<em>wives</em>“.</div>
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</div>Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-28178191631471537252012-02-18T13:18:00.000-06:002012-02-18T13:18:32.683-06:00Little Man Syndrome2012 02 18<br />
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Mexico officially welcomes retirees and tourists, at least in part because they want to get hard money from something other than drugs. Well, pharmaceutical money is from legal drugs, anyway. And granted, there is a lot less money in retirees than in ignoring the killings and other problems concomitant with the drug trade, so one should be prepared to be coddled somewhat less than Don Pendejo. There are published rules about what is required of persons wishing to retire here, and then there are the rules of the assholes in the Inmigracion office. Those rules are not published. So, we decided that I should apply for my FM3, which would allow me to leave the country at my convenience instead of arbitrarily every 180 days. We had oodles of fun with G's application, but we finally got the little plastic permission slip. We were prepared. We got all the documents for me that we needed for him, including getting my Canadian passport renewed because the one on which I last entered the country was slated to expire right around the published limit of six months after filing the application.<br />
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There is one office in which one can apply - 3 hours away in Morelia. There is a form on-line that one must fill in - done. One must have photos both full-face and profile - done. One must have proof of income - done. Proof that one is living in some kind of housing in Mexico - done. One fills in another form, which is an application to apply for an application for a visa - done. One needs copies of passport pages, including entry visa stamp - done. We're looking pretty good, here. Saint Paul and I get in his car and take the first all-day trip to Inmigracion. Oops, wrong form, you need to fill in this other one which is precisely the same but has a slightly different title. Oops, you are wearing earrings, you have to take them out and get new photos. Oops, the address of one of your proofs says c. de las tenistas, the other says circ. de los tenistas, you need to use that one instead of this one. It's your fault Mexicans can't fucking spell. Oops, your Canadian passport wasn't issued by Canada, it was issued by the Canadian Embassy in Mexico, therefore you have to state that the issuing country is Mexico, not Canada. It's your fault Mexicans can't fucking think. Oops, in the blank that says state, province, city, you weren't born in Alberta, you were born in Barrhead. Oops, I think your post code is wrong on no you're right forget about that. Oops, I think your bank statement is using the wrong colour of black ink, oh never mind, I made a mistake. After waiting four hours to see this asshole, he has made four mistakes in 'verifying' my forms, identified completely spurious 'mistakes' in my forms and, it turns out, has forgotten to mention one or two other invisible requirements. So, back home to change the forms. Cost: nearly $100 in gas and food.<br />
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So, get other forms from my bank. Change silly little shit. Kill another tree printing our new versions, and back we go. Wait around another four hours. Get the same fuck-wit agent. Oops, this is the wrong form. Run around the corner and use another precisely similar form with the name he gave us this time. Oops, I've decided that this needs to say that instead of the thing I told you last time. Run around the corner and reprint form. Oops, I have purposely kept you waiting so long that it is now too late for you to take the form I won't give you to the bank and pay the fees. Oops, this is all your fault because you are a foreigner. Oops, I forgot to mention that you have to include a cover letter that includes all the information in the other two forms plus a request for permission to apply for the visa. No, Paul can't go change the form and get the receipt because it is after 13:00 and nothing can be brought into the office after 13:00. If you leave, you won't be let back in. The police officer manning the door can't hand me the stuff I need if I stay and Paul goes. Cost: $100 dollars in gas and food. And my patience.<br />
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I said: we have been here all fucking day and you have... by which time the agent was yelling at me not to yell at him, you used a bad word, you better be careful you will be in a lot of trouble....<br />
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It would be funny if it weren't so fucking pathetic. And on top of that, the little cretin had the gall to remark how difficult my Welsh middle name is - this from a twat named Eduardo Pascual Rodriguez Vidridones. Who said: a little power corrupts absolutely?Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-68682817942373927592012-02-08T10:13:00.000-06:002012-02-08T10:13:25.387-06:002012 02 08<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My G-man has been watching a BBC series on Auschwitz in particular and, more generally, the history of persecution and the Nazis in Germany from the end of World War I to the end of WWII. This led the G-man to remark that he hadn't learned anything much about this in school and he quoted some examples of what he found surprising. Some of you may remember that this is not a stupid man, he has a BA in Biology and an almost Master's in social work. From ordinary middle-US schools in Tennessee to U of Minnesota. Because the BBC is known for trying to get all the research done before they film anything, one is predisposed to believing that the series was accurate - and there were a lot of interesting things that I had not heard before, too.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The second thing that pushed the Education Button was the translation of a line in a US-made movie so memorable that I can't recall what it was called. We were watching it on Netflix with subtitles for our friend Lalo, who speaks English pretty well, but sound-tracks and movie actors being what they are, the subtitles help him keep abreast of the action. Anyway, for some reason one of the female characters stole some Shakespeare: "[character name equivalent to Romeo, Romeo] - Wherefore are thou [Romeo]?" which got translated to the Spanish by the indubitably US-educated service as: "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">[character name equivalent to Romeo, Romeo]</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, dónde estás [Romeo]?" Clever readers have already figured out that it should have read: "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="hps">¿por qué estás</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="hps">Romeo</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="">?" because wherefore did not mean where, it meant why.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class=""><br /></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="">The third push was a Republican candidate named Rick SanctimonousVomitori-um spewing hate and misinformation. I know, that is basically the definition of 'Republican' in the US, but still, this one is a real piece of uneducated unthinking work, even by the low standards of the US. I should of course feel flattered that he is an equal-opportunity hater, but equating being gay with the evils of Islamic terrorism, abortion, social conscience and, just generally, thinking for oneself, is a new low even for the party that gave us Reagan and the Bush Clan. Here's the link to the quotes: </span></span></span>http://www.addictinginfo.org/2012/01/05/31-rick-santorum-quotes-that-prove-he-would-be-a-destructive-president/<br />
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The positive upshot of this crap in a thinking country would be the re-election of Obama. In the non-thinking US, no-one knows for sure what will happen. Obama has been ineffectual and less than perfect, in large part but not wholly because of pointless obstructionism from the opposition, but that is a treatise for another day. This one is about education. Or lack thereof. I know that general education in Canada and England has slipped to new lows as well, but I fervently hope that it is not nearly as low as in the US. The brass-plated-shite standard, I call it. A really good education can be had in all three countries - if you have enough money to buy it. Unfortunately, by the time one gets to university age, it is really late to start trying to learn how to think logically, so the expense starts in kindergarten. We know who can afford that, right? And you probably remember how I feel about private 'charter' schools and home-schooling: may as well just run out a kill the T-Rex (dinosaur) living next door watch out for the glacier. The Republican method of surviving is to kill any hope of actual education in the general public: keep them ignorant and afraid and you can do what you will.<br />
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It is unfortunate that the rest of the world - and more sadly, I - needs to pay so much attention to the bullshit in the US, but that is a fact of life: they are bullies with big guns, and they need to be watched. Yes, Virginia, even the Democrats, however much better than the other guys they may be. If you can only chose between certain death and probable death, what kind of choice have you got?<br />
<br />Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-87308227013249595342011-12-27T14:20:00.001-06:002011-12-27T14:20:17.763-06:00My BallsOk, so for the first time in thirty years, I cooked a turkey. Why is it that the smallest turkeys available seem to weight 8 tonnes?? and you know what that means: left-over turkey for the rest of the millenium. I decided to experiment with uses for left-over turkey and, having horrible memories of home-made turkey soup from my childhood, I decided to forgo the boil-the-bones approach and ground up the meat. Then I ground up some left-over ham. And some raw pork pieces that ponged a bit but didn't seem poisonous. Add some Chinese "five spice", an egg or two, some dry bread and stale crackers and voila! Depending on your level of masochism, sit or stand to make the goop into balls. And because we basically don't have a hope in hell of telling when they are cooked, make little balls. Then (deep-)fry them until they are dead. I mean crispy. Then throw some flour and shite together to make a gravy. Serve with aplomb. They are not going to taste like turkey - in fact they are guaranteed to taste like almost nothing you have ever eaten before.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Ok, así que por la primera vez en treinta años, he cocinado un pavo. ¿Por qué es que los más pequeños disponibles parecen pavos de peso de 8 toneladas? y ustedes saben lo que eso significa: el pavo sobrante para el resto del milenio. Me decidí a experimentar con el uso derestos de pavo y, con horribles recuerdos de sopa casera de pavo de mi infancia, he decidido renunciar a la ebullición-los-huesos y he molido la carne. Entonces anadir un poco de jamón sobrante. Y algunas piezas de carne de cerdo cruda que fue disputada un poco, pero no parece venenoso. Agregue un poco de chino "cinco especias", un huevo o dos, un poco de pan seco y galletas rancio y ¡voilá! Dependiendo de su nivel de masoquismo, sentado o de pie para hacer el pegote en bolas. Y debido a que básicamente no tienen una esperanza en el infierno de contar cuando se cocinado, hacen pequenos bolitas. Entonces (profundas) se fríen hasta que estén muertos. Quiero decir que estén crujientes. A continuación, echar un poco de harina y unas mierda para hacer una salsa. Servir con aplomo. Ellos no van a sabor a pavo - de hecho, se les garantiza a gusto como casi nada de lo que han comido antes.</span>Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-76984112278072295382011-09-08T08:53:00.000-05:002011-09-08T08:53:30.850-05:002011 09 08Cat news! Bruce and Muttney have reached detente! Shadow and Bruce have reached detente! Shadow would rather that Muttney cease to exist but occasionally forgets to try to hiss him to death. If this is to be the usual state of affairs, some of us are going to be really unhappy.<br />
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Last Friday was Cele's birthday - 28! - and we were unable to host a dinner for her because of compromising events. The cleaning lady comes Tuesdays and Fridays, so the house was sparkling. She taught me how to make <i>mole</i> this time as well as cleaning. Tuesday night the kids came over to celebrate her day: Cele, her husband Fernando, Saint Paul and Miguel. I made a herbed pork roast in my pressure cooker and risotto with shrimp and tomato. Desert was peaches warmed in butter, vanilla and brown sugar and sprinkled with cinnamon and cream. Gary cobbled together a big enough table, draped it and made it all look pretty. Everyone had a good time and ate lots of food and laughed a lot. We are still washing up. I wonder where I was on my 28th birthday...<br />
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Speaking of birthdays and dates with which to mark the passage of time ... Gary and I will have been together for 10 years December 4th. Bruce is 14 or 15, Shadow is 12, Muttney is 7. We are in the usual state of health, Gary is fine and my knee is being a pain. We are discussing how and when to go back north to get the truck across the border and have a couple of ideas that seem to make sense. What we actually end up doing is anybody's guess. Muttney has decided that his bed is the bathroom sink, which he fills completely and inconveniently.<br />
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We are going to look at hand-made wooden furniture this afternoon. And that is all the excitement we have for this post. It is rather nice to be retired - Tuesday was the most stress we've had in two weeks.<br />
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RRikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-25826525400340157822011-09-02T10:40:00.002-05:002011-09-02T10:40:26.582-05:002011 09 02We went out for supper the other night with Saint Paul, a new-to-us restaurant near downtown. I'm fine but the G-man has the usual symptoms of food-borne illness. Unlike the cats, boyfriends don't give any warning before they vomit on your feet. Speaking of cats, hissing and spitting are no longer at fever pitch, but detente has not yet been reached.<br />
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Now where did I get to ...<br />
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Trip Two to the border<br />
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Our Intrepid Travellers left the Nogales motel with mostly functioning air-conditioning and in relative calm. They reached the border crossing, and did the routine with American Customs, then paid the toll to drive to and arrive at Mexican Customs. This is actually when the lack of import sticker screwed things up. So, he paid the toll to drive to and arrive at the American border, where he did the routine with the bike and the door and the cat and the door and the bike and the cat (in that order) and then crossed back to the US side. Much conversation with yours truly ensued, and we decided that returning to the scene of the actual crime would maybe possibly in some way be better easier smoother or at least cooler than continuing to muck about in Nogales.<br />
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Trip Three to the border at Agua Prieta<br />
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After much searching the previous night, G had located a lot of paper proving that the vehicle to which the sticker had been attached was no longer in Mexico, and was in fact no longer his. (California had impounded it for various reasons.) This, to our minds, should smooth the cancellation of the previous sticker and the issuance of the new. Somewhere along the 114 miles from Nogales to Douglas, the pump and or the clutch on the air-conditioning ceased functioning. What else is new? The border crossing did not involve American Customs (I don't know why the same at Nogales did involve the US agents) so he proceeded to Banjercito with his papers to discover that yes, it looks like this will be sufficient to cancel the sticker. So, you need to send it with these forms to Ciudad Mexico and in three months you will get confirmation that the sticker has been cancelled. At no time in this conversation did G get the impression that a little cash under the table would smooth the process. We are intrinsically honest and don't really know enough Spanish to offer a bribe nor to read the signals requesting one in the first place, so this whole Corrupt Mexico thing seems to be mierda del toro to us. Therefore, our Intrepid Traveller gathers his papers, reaches the American border, goes through the routine with unloading the bicycle etc. and re-enters Douglas irritated and not relishing the prospect of spending more time baking in the autumn desert heat spending money we can't really afford on food and motels. More conversations with yours truly and we have a plan.<br />
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Precis: I have an appointment in Oakland to see the quack, and will return to Guadalajara on August 26th. Gary can find a place to store the truck, get himself and the cat on a flight to meet me, and then we will bus home together. All, of course, does not go as planned. I get to Guadalajara and discover that G&M will not be flying because the airline doesn't like the carrier. He gets a new carriers, gets on the flight the next day and we catch a ride home with The Doctors, all as previously described. I think. I write this shite and then promptly forget it, so if this is news, let me know and I will tell you alllll about it.<br />
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So we are back home. He found a place to keep the truck safe for a small fee each month, so we are not unduly worried about The Bloody Possessions. We are without the things that I have been missing, but we are home safely and in (relatively) good health. The cat thing will sort itself out. The plan for trying the border one more time will come together when it comes together, and we will (or he will) fly/ride/float back to the US and re-attempt the penetration of Mexico. As usual, I think that whatever we have planned will change before we return to Zamora, but hopefully our household goods will return to Zamora with us next time, whatever the changes to the plan may entail.<br />
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I'm exhausted just thinking about all this shite.<br />
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RRikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-76342448811007785992011-09-01T00:17:00.002-05:002011-09-01T00:26:09.738-05:002011 09 01Does anyone have an opinion on how irritating it would be to have ads on these pages? After some threshold, I would get paid. Real money. It is tempting. Opine away, please.Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-66687853952533820462011-08-31T11:25:00.002-05:002011-08-31T23:49:48.969-05:002011 08 31Guarded warfare continues, although Shadow has decided that his Two-legger allies are to be tolerated and that Bruce is his bosom buddy once more. Oh goody, cat hair in the sheets once again. We are hoping that the situation continues to improve and that detente is reached among the herd in short order.<br />
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Where were we? Oh right, Las Vegas. Did you know that the name means 'fertile lowland' or 'meadow'?, actually the plural thereof, but you can manage that on your own. Kind of obvious to anyone who has visited Las Vegas that the name is a joke. Anyway, brand-new tyres, 114F, no air-conditioning and our intrepid travellers hit the road. Leaving Las Vegas is always more fun than entering Las Vegas, in my humble opinion. The sense of relief ... The road rapidly takes one to the Hoover Dam, over which one drives. On a two-lane road, with millions of tourists. The fun in that is not immediately apparent. However, the scenery is fun, sand-coloured rock hills surrounding sand-coloured concrete dam with a lot of blue water off to one side and a precipitous fall to the other. The G and the Mutt suffered the heat for many miles until the belt on the fan for the air broke. Changing the belt required a step-tool, padding on the hot radiator and still resulted in a third-degree burn on Gary's arm. Finally reached Phoenix, where G thought they might find somewhere cool to hang out until evening. This proved harder than he had anticipated, but they survived until cooler temps and then got to our friends' place in Tucson. Our chums made them welcome, and happened to know a mechanic who, for a reasonable fee, did what he could to repair the air. Oooo, that rhymes! He also did something else to the truck that I can't recall, and things were looking up for the remainder of the trip. After a few days' rest and recuperation, they were once again on the road, heading for Nogales Arizona/Sonora. At 114F. With the windows open the interior temperature was probably only 130F.<br />
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There were a couple of snags that we expected to complicate the crossing, so G was prepared to spend some time sorting some bureaucratic shite in Nogales. The first of these is called 'menaje de casa', which is either required or not required or being phased out. It is a list of everything that is being imported into Mexico, with serial numbers and ages of the articles and maybe cubic size of container but maybe not and is required to be in quadruplicate, translated into Spanish, and approved by the Mexican consulate. This G duly wrote up and translated and printed and copied and submitted. The Consulate added its stamp of approval and a cover letter. <br />
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Trip One to the border<br />
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Under the current American state of permanent paranoia, American customs agents stopped G at the border, asked all the usual asinine questions and then made him exit the vehicle, remove the bicycle from its rack at the back door, unlock the truck and then wait 'over there'. They opened the door. They gazed in awe at the solid wall of things that greeted them. They conferred briefly with themselves and then waved him away. G closed the door, mounted the bicycle, caught the cat, got in the cab and proceeded into the almost Mexico zone that exists between the two countries. There was a man standing in the middle of the road, leaving G the option of running him down or stopping. He chose to stop, which in retrospect he might change. No uniform, no identification, no proof that the man was what he claimed to be: 'working with' Mexican Customs. He instructed our hot and tired Intrepidness that he would have to drive 12 kilometres along this road, where Unidentified Stranger and his partner would meet him and deal with the rest of the process of entering the country. Twelve kms and 88 pesos toll later, the G pulls up to a parking area and gets out to talk to these guys. At 114F. With no shade. They glanced at the approved menaje. They said: 380.00 US fee, please. They then escorted G to Aduanas, where G continued through the identification process, the wait around and see process, the I don't know what to say process and the maybe this maybe that process. During one of these mysterious goings-on, the Customs agent discovered that the Consulate had used the legislation that applies to Mexicans returning to live in Mexico, not foreigners moving to live in Mexico and refused to accept the menaje without alteration. Meanwhile ...<br />
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Problem Two. There are some strict rules about importing a vehicle into Mexico. Drugs, slaves I mean illegal emigrants, guns, bombs, gangsters and prostitutes cross the border with impunity, but if a foreigner manages to leave Mexico without returning the Temporary Vehicle Import sticker, all hell ensues. At 114F. With no shade. Guess who left Mexico without returning his sticker three years before? The Unidentified offered to fix the problem for $600US and three days. Banjercito, the company that actually is responsible for the issuance and control of said stickers said well, no, maybe, sometimes, in the future, or maybe never. How the Unidentified intended to deal with this in three days remains unknown, as by this point, the G-man had decided that this was nuts. He returned to the truck, paid 88 pesos to drive the 12 kms back to American Customs. Usual asinine questions, park over there, remove bicycle, open door, take cat and go wait in there because we are using dogs. At 114F. With no shade. Sniff, stare at wall of things, talk amongst themselves, and wave G back to the truck. Close door, mount bicycle, enter truck and the G is back on the road to a motel on the Arizona side. Next day, visit Consulate, get proper wording on paper. Be really fed-up with treatment at Nogales crossing and decide to drive to Douglas Arizona/Agua Prieta Sonora, where the problem sticker was issued in the first place.<br />
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Stay tuned! Coming Soon! Will our Intrepidness really get across the Border? Trip Two next time!<br />
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Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-78039623428742657512011-08-30T10:59:00.000-05:002011-08-30T10:59:18.109-05:002011 08 30So, we got to Zamora the end of May, and suffered through the heat with lousy creeping lung crud, and then actually started to feel human. There was a bit of a deadline in returning to California to move the truck, as the registration was valid only until the end of August. About July 12, we attempted to get the G-man his Michoacan driver's licence, but the bureaucunt in the office insisted that she could do nothing without his birth certificate. Americans hardly ever carry this document, and their bloody passports state that the carrier was born in State, USA. Not sufficient for Bureaucunt. This put us a day late for the flight reservations, but Volaris offers a flexibility option for a small fee, and we had availed ourselves of same. Our Santo Paul drove us to Guadalajara aeroport and we dropped off the G-man in plenty of time to catch his flight. However, the staff didn't understand the flexibility thing and refused to let him on the plane. After much yakking and phone calling and shortening of temper, he was finally on-board a flight to Oakland - arriving three hours later than expected by our friends there. That worked out because our Fox is a bit of a saint herself. G spent some time with her and running around the Bay Area, and then headed north to the truck.<br />
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We had hired a neighbour, supposedly well-versed in the maintenance of diesel engines, to get it prepped and ready for the road. We paid the pendejo to change the oil and fix anything that needed fixing and get it to the storage place G had arranged. He assured us that he had done so. Well, he is a liar. And a cheat. And an alcoholic. However, the G-man collected the cat and finally got the truck started and on the road. The first time he turned it off there was someone close to jump it back to life. The second time he turned it off, he had to call the AAA. The third time he turned it off was in the parking lot of Costco, where he bought a new battery. End of that problem. However, the air-conditioning didn't, and I don't remember everything else it couldn't, so the first leg of the journey was a little uncomfortable, but not that bad. The poor old thing (I mean the truck) climbed the 7,000-foot range between California and Nevada very slowly, but the poor old thing (I mean my husband) managed to get it to limp into Nevada. He got a couple days' rest in Carson City for two reasons: the tyres and the heat. As you may realise, as one descends from the heights, the ambient temperature increases - to 104F and higher in this case. In August. In the desert. Without air-conditioning. The G-man thought the cat was going to die, he was so hot he was panting and throwing-up any water he drank. The G-man thought he was going to sweat to death. He finally drove, to grossly misuse the term, into the parking-lot of a casino, encased the cat and hit the cold inside air. Muttney was so grateful to be cool he didn't make a sound.<br />
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After recuperating (and losing $2.00), he walked outside to see the truck leaning to one side. Upon inspection, the tyres revealed their true inner selves: if you've ever wondered if steel-belted radials actually have steel in, they do. And it ain't pretty. About $1,200.00 and several hours at 114F later, all six of the tyres were back in fighting form and the passengers were in Las Vegas, TKO'd. More resting in cheap motels ensued because by this time the G-man was not only frustrated, he had a sinus infection. Muttney likes air-conditioned motel rooms. Many calls back and forth to his Medicine Man in California, and the G-man had antibiotics and a better temper.<br />
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And here we leave our intrepid travellers to rest and regain their composures. And I can therefore call the next instalment 'leaving las vegas' ha ha ha<br />
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RRikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-4672251129560522352011-08-29T11:42:00.001-05:002011-08-29T11:45:52.854-05:002011 08 29Well, things have been rather interesting lately. I went to Oakland for a week and saw my (girl)friends and ate sushi and generally did not much. It was great fun and thanks to the Fox for the roof and NP Val and her husband for the fun dinner and lift to the airport. The flight was delayed because the Volaris staff doesn't know how to count. After sitting in the plane for 45 minutes, they called roll - 92 passengers and they couldn't sort whatever their problem was in any other way. Flying Elementary School is now in session. We finally got to Guadalajara at 07:50 without incident - no-one got sent to the Principal's office - and interestingly enough, arrived "on time". I take it that they meant the flight was actually 3 hours 50 minutes as planned, rather than that we got there at 06:50 as scheduled. G was supposed to be on a flight from Hermosillo with the cat, arriving in Gdl at noon of the same day. His aeroport staff didn't like the carrier, so he spent the day trying to find a carrier that they would accept and caught the flight the next day. I spent the night with my friends in Gdl, met him at the aeroport and we caught a ride home with my Doctors, who were in Gdl for classes. We are tired and very glad to finally be here. There will be a return to Arizona in the near future to actually get our shit to Zamora, but some of us need to rest up a bit first.<br />
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The cats are another story. They lived together for three years in California, and then apart for three years with Bruce and Shadow here in Zamora. Now that Muttney is in the house, we have spitting and hissing and hurt feelings all 'round, and it is a pain in the ass for the two-leggers in the place. Second day of guarded warfare - I hope they get their shit sorted soon, this pussy-footing around is boring. They slink about the place in a crouch with their hackles up expecting to be ambushed at any second. Shadow has a fabulous growl, though. Unfortunately, he uses it at everyone, regardless of former amiable associations. Felis e mobile, music by Verdi.<br />
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That is about it for now, the saga of getting the truck from California to Arizona will wait for another day. Have to go buy food for the hissers now.<br />
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R<br />
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(Non-opera people: fickle is the cat)Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-29124058844432778922011-08-08T14:59:00.001-05:002011-08-08T15:01:06.244-05:002011 08 08Hello, we're back up and writing. Or blathering, depending on your opinion of what I write. We have moved to a new house about 4 doors down from the first one. It is three bedrooms, so we have room for visitors as well as a room for the computer/work shop/whatever. They are a little smaller than the two in the other house, but we like the colours of this one much better. I still hate the kitchen, it is a little smaller than the other, or at least feels it because there is a wall between it and the living room. Gary is in Arizona with our truck, getting all arranged to cross the border and drive down here. I am trying to arrange what is already here, and even though I am capable of organisation, it is not all that much fun so I end up doing other stuff, like cooking, instead. I don't have time to share all the gory details right now, I need to get some things done. More pearls of wisdom to follow. I originally typed 'pears' which actually suits me better.<br />
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RRikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-60287377437881095832011-07-25T11:45:00.000-05:002011-07-25T11:45:00.424-05:002011 07 25<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">No tengo</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">acceso a Internet</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">en la nueva casa</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span title="Click for alternate translations">,</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">no sé</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="hps" title="Click for alternate translations">por cuánto tiempo. I don't have internet access in the new house yet, I don't know when it will be installed.</span></span>Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-91849025808257519032011-06-20T02:01:00.000-05:002011-06-20T02:01:19.129-05:0020110620I was looking for some of the old newsletters that I thought I had transferred from the other site, but these three are the only ones I have on my computer. Other than that, I have nothing to say because I am exhausted. The washing machine is in California, the dirty clothes are here and the situation in the town is not promising: we have driven past one and only one sign saying 'lavendaria' but the business appears to never be open.<br />
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In the <i>soi-disant</i> backyard there is a concrete sink with built-in washboard and running water, and I have been washing our clothing the old-fashioned way. When I hurt myself falling on the rocks at El Rancho, the local contingent of aunts volunteered to do my laundry for me. When I told them that I could manage because we had a washing machine, they tut-tutted and informed that the laundry would not be as clean, done in a machine. Well, I don't know about that, but I know now why they all have shoulders like an american line-backer.<br />
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Health news is about the same: post-nasal deluge in me, hacking cough in G. We are tired of feeling ill, let me tell you. The weather is a treat, the cats are a treat, it is a treat to have a roof over our heads and food to eat. All is well in our little corner of the world<br />
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RRikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-6851841182458912782011-06-20T01:52:00.001-05:002011-06-20T01:52:08.103-05:0020080803<div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">2008 08 03</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">La doctora at our local clinic has served her time, and was released this Thursday. We have established the Wednesday Evening English Discussion, Roxana and I, and the Doctor and the Nurse have been attending. I think for the tequila, but that is a different matter. This Wednesday, we had a little going-away celebration, with many kinds of tequila, and Roxana's brother made shrimp ceviche. The clinic closes around 18:00 (six), so they were planning on being here soon thereafter. The clouds started to really build up around 17:00 (an hour earlier than closing), and by 18:30 (half-hour past closing), it was raining so hard I couldn't see the driveway from the pasillo. All the rain that hadn't fallen in the previous three days fell in the course of an hour or so. We had a good time anyway, until 02:00 (8 hours past closing) but managed to speak absolutely no English. I keep having trouble with the endings, all those verbs changing all the time really seems to twist my tongue. Our arithmetic is impeccable, though.</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">We have enough youth, how about a fountain of smart?</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Friday evening, we all went to a concert by a quartet called, I think, Treintanos, in Zamora, in rain almost as ferocious as Wednesday's. The Doctor's boyfriend and a friend of his, whose name translates as 'Cross', the which he looked, performed a set in the middle of the concert. Music from many South and Central American countries was performed, and I really enjoyed most of it. I don't much care for the sound of wooden pipes, which featured in many songs, but particularly enjoyed the songs from Chile. I didn't, claro, understand the joke song let alone a lot of the intervening palaver, but the rest of the crowd had a good laugh. We met more of the Doctor's friends, both of whom are utterly charming, if unilingual. Well, Paul (accent on the 'u' which I can't find – Odin I loathe Miscreant-osoft Word!) speaks French and Italian, but, as I've become utterly unspeakable lately, we restricted ourselves to Spanish. I found out later that this was the first ever performance of the Boyfriend and Cross, which could explain why Cruz looked a little sombre. They were all very talented, and the Boyfriend has lips to die for.</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Damn, it's the Richard Claydermann hour on the PA again.</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The next day, Paul and two-thirds of the WEEDs (no Nurse) drove to Uruapan where Paul was to conduct some exotic-sounding seminar. Well, exotic to me because I didn't quite translate some of the words. Uruapan is a million-and-a-half people, thereabouts, built in the bottom of a steep valley. It is very old, with narrow streets and</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">some very interesting buildings. We had coffee in a building which would have been quite usual in Tudor England. Unfortunately, the city has Los Angeles' air, so one doesn't particularly want to spend a long time there. It has a beautiful national park within the urban gloom, flora and fauna allowed to behave as though humans didn't exist.</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">There is an awful lot of water running in channels and rivers and creeks everywhere, including a quite spectacular waterfall. The air is cool and fresh because of it, and there are many beautiful trees and flowers. Unfortunately, it is also very, very popular, so there were hordes of cameras with people attached everywhere one looked. Our route to Uruapan included many old, and in some cases incredibly ugly, towns and villages with spectacular vistas into the surrounding mountains. It also seemed to be through the corn-producing region of Mexico, as everywhere one looked was corn in various stages of growth. I do mean everywhere, by the way. On our return, we stopped in a town (Pachuco??) which seems to be the centre of the guitar-producing region of the state. A festival was/is in progress, and there is a museum of guitars that is simple but fascinating. Around and in the</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">plaza were many booths of traditional hand-made products, from clay jars and plates to guitars and wooden jewellery to extremely intricate needlework and cut-work. I love the colours in the traditional pallette, and there was a guitar I'd love to have made from the most beautiful of woods. An exhausting but very satisfying trip,</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">especially as we'd all had about three hours of sleep the night before.</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The livestock are all well and happy, bounding or flapping according to physiology around the place in evidently high spirits. The chicklet is feathered except for her head. Adam and Eve regularly ingest a bit of grain from my hand. Miss Kate is still being a good candidate for stewing. The other avian populations have shrunk drastically, although many restful minutes have been spent watching various members in the bird-bath. I haven't managed to replace the lawnmower blade yet, but Adam and Eve are doing a credible job of keeping a lot of it under control. The neighbours have been ignoring me, except for the little hoodlums who come by demanding water. I usually acquiesce, but I occasionally enjoy the look of shock on their faces when I refuse. Don't they have homes? mothers? water of their own? The cute goatherd has been less in evidence as various otherwise useless boy-children have been herding the flock up to the pasture. Various equines and bovines have produced off-spring, who are very charming and inquisitive on their sojourns up and down the street. Encounters with blood-sucking parasites have abated somewhat, and other forms of uninvited guests have been appearing less, as well. It</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">ain't 'cause it's drier and colder, let me tell you. Paul told a long joke about satellite television and various nationalities, but I didn't understand the punch-line. There are scrabbly footsteps in my bathroom roof, so one wonders what creature is producing them. I'm sure-as-hell not going up there to find out. I saw what appeared to</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">be a fat, hairy tail-less squirrel scurry across the drive the other day; fortunately or un-, the Canine Contingent were tethered so that I could leave. The lizards are everywhere and growing bigger but not slower. There are many trumpet-vine type flowers around in many pastel colours, and some very vibrant morning glories are crawling up the other vines near the east pasillo. I have seven or so tomatoes thriving in a pot; everything that went into the ground has croaked. The peppers that resurrected themselves in one of the 'empty' pots are looking quite edible. A light-bulb in an unused fixture high up in the kitchen committed suicide just now with a resounding crash.</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">An elderly man and his wife were dining at a restaurant. After the man received his food, he carefully cut his portion in half, and poured exactly half of his drink into another cup. Then he gave these to his wife. Their waitress noticed that the old lady was not eating her half and said, "That's so sweet that you share the meal, but why aren't you eating?" The old lady said: "I'm waiting for the teeth!"</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">And that's about it for this week! Have a good one, everyone.</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">R</div>Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-55107612420762743042011-06-20T01:44:00.001-05:002011-06-20T01:44:20.925-05:0020080709<div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">2008 07 09</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">El Rancho has been a positive beehive of activity this week. I happily admit that I don’t know weeds from trees, so, when the growth got about knee-high, I started ripping out anything that had a flower I didn’t like or which out-numbered the other green things by three-to-one. It’s a method, okay, so get off my back. Speaking of which, mine is killing me. As are my knees, elbows, neck and hips from kneeling, crawling, digging, grunting, swearing, pulling and avoiding obnoxious snakes and insects. I don’t know how anyone can purport to actually like gardening. It’s physically dangerous, dirty and just generally bloody hard work. And, as I really don’t know which ones we want to cherish and which we want to eliminate, a guessing game.</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Gone with the Wind over the Neighbour’s Goat Pen</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The weather has been … changeable. The late afternoon/early evening usually produces a storm, with thunder and lightning and wind and dropping temperatures. Unfortunately, the wind is predominantly from Over the Neighbour’s Goat Pen. Now, the little dears that wander up the road to pasture and back down the road to water, shitting copiously as they go, are quite fun to watch. Well, not that I have much choice, as the only way to shut up the barking Spawn is to hold his collar as they pass. They don’t seem to stink much, to my non-canine olfactory system, and some of them are cute, pretty or have interesting appendages. Horns, people, horns! Many different colours and sizes and attitudes to the barking Spawn, and the adult goatherds are friendly. Not much expansion to my vocabulary, mind; I’ve mastered ‘good day’ and ‘good afternoon’ in Spanish, thank you. However, collected masses of goat shit are unpleasant to smell (understatement as literary device). Pigs are worse, of course, so I should be relatively thankful they don’t raise those, but still, the coolness comes with a price. A pungent, acidy, putrid, offensive, gagging stench of a price, to be exact. Unfortunately, the wind from the other direction is over the cow shit, so as much as I appreciate the coolness, I’m really terribly glad to have sleep apnea and a CPAP to filter out most of it. Oh stop me: w-w-when the w-w-w-ind blows over the cow shit, I’ll be stuffing plastic up my nose …</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Some further amusement is garnered by observing the newest additions to the family. Adam and Eve are calming nicely; Eve doesn’t run away when I approach and Adam loves to have his chin scratched, at least until she goes into estrus, and then all bets are off. The vegetation is being trimmed in very interesting patterns. They have a Lamb Smorgasbord of choice, and make interesting decisions: let’s eat the front lawn for breakfast, have a little cud chew, then eat around the palm trees and have a little cud chew near the chicken coop and then for dessert, let’s eat the lower leaves of some of those pretty trees and have a little cud chew. They are missing their flock, though. When the goats parade, bells jingling and babies lowing, they set up a bawling that initially brought me running because I thought they were being molested by the dogs or something. Don’t let anyone tell you that sheep are stupid: Adam has learned that the low retaining wall between the back forty and the bits closer to the house gives him a leg up in reaching the top of the wall along the road. It appears to be a good place to have a little cud chew – the other day, he got up there, folded his little legs under himself and had a little nap. Eve is such a little lady, she stays on the ground, mewling plaintively. They are quite delightful, actually. Their new house is progressing nicely, walls are rising on the foundations the men built and cemented. It is an amazing process to watch because it is all being done manually. The guys mix the cement by hand, they dug the trenches by hand, they placed, shaped and cemented the rocks by hand; in short, they are working their asses off in some very warm temperatures in ways that North Americans couldn’t. I could sit and watch all day, were there some shade.</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I am pleased to be able to report that we still have one chick alive. I haven’t yet figured out how the Corleone cross got the first one, but I’ve tried to keep strategically placed obstacles in place at likely locations in order to prevent a repeat. The Black Beauty is being put upon a little – how typical! just because she’s a hen of colour, she’s being driven from the feed by Miss Kate. Whom, by the way, is much more protective of the remaining chick than she was before the Horrible Fate of the first. The Barred Rocks are growing individual personalities along with their increasing sizes, and one of the lightest-coloured will eat out of a cup in my hand. Some Orioles – one male, two not – have been cavorting in the bird-bath and trees, which pleases me greatly as they are such beautiful colours. Smaller than the Audubon’s, they are swift and graceful in flight. But how greedy - two females. Today I saw the largest butterfly I’ve ever seen: yellow and black tigerly stripes, so I’ll bet its name has tiger in, with a wing-span as big as my spread hand. Incredibly graceful, floating from flower to flower, and very pretty, too. I accidentally discovered that we have fire-flies, to which I’m not sure I’ve had much exposure. I managed to coat myself with enough repellent repellent (that is not a misprint) that I could stand to be out on the pasillo (paseo? I still don't know so this will do) at dusk, and there they were. And then they weren’t. And then they were. Quite dizzying, actually. The clouds were black, serving to highlight the lights quite nicely. That funny lightning that just kind-of generally lights up an area of sky occurred too, so I don’t think it was the wine that made it all seem so magical. I have been having friendly if incomprehensible conversations with Leonardo and horse, and getting all the gossip about the goat-keeping neighbours, for whom he appears to tend goats. Unfortunately, the neighbours have chosen a particularly bilious shade of teal-pus-green with which to paint parts of their house and their gate; obviously a bunch of straight people. The cute goatherd shaved off his beard and is now much cuter with a Latin film-villain/lover moustache. As I was sitting and watching the fire-flies, it got fully dark and the night-scented jasmine stunk up the entire yard. Lovely, absolutely lovely.</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I thought of something as I was struggling with the weeds that would have been delightfully amusing and clever to include in this edition, but it blew off on the Goat Wind. Oh well, it may return as I get more senile.</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">As Yet Unnamed</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">British health care is totally free to Britons; Canadian is only slightly free to Canadians. Britain is on the other side of the big puddle of the Atlantic Ocean; Canada is only across a theoretical line in the dirt and the smaller puddle(s) of the Great Lakes. And yes, those pretty pieces of coloured paper that say “legal tender of Canada” on are in fact legal tender in the whole damn country, even Quebec. Five dollar a gallon gasoline serves you right for supporting the American automobile industry.</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Buddhist thought of the day: "He who crushes the great 'I am' conceit finds, indeed, happiness supreme." This is a most difficult task to complete. We are taught from birth: "I am a girl or boy, white or black, thin or not, smart or dull, et cetera". What we should focus on is: "I am one with the divine nature” and stop dividing ourselves into sub-groups that are made up of concepts that don't really exist.</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I have to go smell the jasmine now. Have a good one, everyone.</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: normal normal normal 13px/normal Arial; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">R</div>Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-20162479815894639212011-06-20T01:30:00.002-05:002011-06-20T01:34:52.807-05:0020080622<div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">2008 06 22</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">An alert Canadian reader (not the oxymoron it appears to be) informs that the trews (and jodhpurs) worn by the arsey empy are in fact dark blue, not black. Not having been that close to one, who the hell can tell? However, in the interest of accuracy, we are corrected.</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I am sort-of being stalked. The Virgin Queen, whose real name is Luis something-or-the-other and who lives in Rincon Grande, has been hanging about at unlikely times and, for example, standing in the neighbour’s field and watching me shower. I hope he got a thrill; I didn’t. It may not be necessary, but I want it perfectly clear to any of you who had doubts that I have not touched the little prick, have no intention of touching the little prick and have been boning up on my sexual Spanish for the theoretical interview with the Policia, should the little prick get creative. He has not been around in several days now, but my sisters were CGIT whose motto is ‘be prepared’.</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">As Yet Unnamed</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Canada is, as you alert readers are aware, the second largest political entity on Earth. It is divided into nine provinces, three territories and Those Damned French-Canadian Separatists. Each province, territory and TDF-CS has a head of government called a premier. As an aside, this designation usually has little to do with Hollywood movies. Each of these political divisions houses many different political ideologies, except for Alberta, which has only one and Saskatchewan, whose name is larger than its population. The main political parties are: the NDP National Democratic Party, which is really socialist); the Liberal party (which is slightly less socialist), the Bloc Quebecois (which is totally socialist if you’re a French separatist), the Conservative party (which is totally reactionary but still far to the left of the US Democrats) and some minor parties, with names like the Hippopotamus Party or something, which usually have the success of Ralph Nader in winning seats. No-one really knows what actually goes on in the Territories or Labrador, except that they have snow, oil reserves and really big mosquitoes, not necessarily in that order. Most of the provinces have a judicial system consisting of ascending levels of courts culminating in the Supreme Court of each province. These are overseen by the Supreme Court of Canada, which also regularly over-rules the reactionary rulings of the Supreme Court of Alberta. The oversight of the Supreme Court of Canada is what keeps the place working toward some degree of social equality. Canada also has a Senate, which is where politicians go when they die. HRH Queen Elizabeth II is the official Head of State of Canada. The official representatives of the Queen of Canada (doesn’t that have a nice ring?), and therefore the Heads of (various) State(s), are the Governor General of Canada, who does virtually nothing but drink cocktails and, in the incumbent, listen to reggae; and the Lieutenants-Governor (pronounced lefTENant, by the way) in each of the provinces, who act like the US Supreme Court and rubber-stamp whatever gets put in front of him/her. The territories, always needing to be different, have Commissioners instead, but their function is the same. Bills passed by the parliament and senate do not become law until the Governor General has given them royal assent. The Governor General does a bunch of rubber-stamping and invites the leader of the political party with the most support in the House of Commons to form a government. We wish the current idiot had RSVPed no. The Governor General also delivers the Speech from the Throne at the beginning of each parliamentary session, which is why he/she is usually an announcer from the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Our elections always have a party which receives the majority of the votes cast (usually 12), so there is never any doubt as to the Will of the Pipple. And there you have it, exercised franchise in action.* Unfortunately, this has not been as amusing as I’d like, but I’m too tired to do anything about it.</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Sample of what it was like around the family dinner table: “Woohoo! Two chicks!! That's very cool. And I'm thinking not too bad for a rookie (I mean Miss Kate, not you..... at least, I think that's who I mean....)”</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">The Canine Contingent continues to miss the lizards, who are growing larger in noticeable increments. The Official Rancho Chicks are progressing well, starting to feather in a bit and eating well. They are so adorable! The new members of the Coop are settling in well as well, appearing to have doubled in size during the last week. Miss Kate is proving to be a very competent mother, and John has finished moulting, mostly, and is looks quite fine. Unfortunately, he’s in good voice, too. We are positively inundated with ants, there are mounds of excavated </div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">earth every couple of feet everywhere one looks. I’ve tried a new poison; I’ll let you know how it goes. The Unknown Vegetables are blooming lovely yellow cup-like things, and the seventy tomato seeds that I mistakenly germinated have reduced themselves to about a dozen in the transplant process. Many interesting and unusual bugs have put in an appearance, primarily to fly about a bit and then die, from the look of it. The cute goat-herd has confused the hell out of me: I asked him how much it would cost to buy two youngish goats and he made a peculiar gesture at his side that could be interpreted either as “a hug” or as “a bushel of dinero”. Storms have been at a minimum this week, so I’ve been forced to water things. One of the decorative plates on the outside wall </div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">committed suicide the other night by leaping to the patio. A young man on a horse named Leonardo has been asking me to give him one of the large sombreros (sombreri??) the owners have hung on the computer bedroom wall, the which I have refused. However, we did have lemon water and a 2.5 hour Spanish chat, which was good practice for me and something of an education for him. My acquisition of really badly-made mosquito netting has, in fact, reduced the incidence of nocturnal feeding upon my person, a relief in many ways. The neighbour’s attempt at piling layers of rock on the road as paving have washed down the actually-paved bits in the rains, making the entire hillside a massive mudslide. Muchas gracias, I say. I have to go gaze at my navel, now.</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">How surprising, another Sunday.</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">R</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">* the act of voting is called exercising one’s franchise, for those of </div><div style="font: 13.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">you needing a translation of that joke.</div><div><br />
</div>Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-92172987502063830142011-06-16T00:11:00.000-05:002011-06-16T00:11:26.466-05:002011 06 15I rather hesitate to relate this story, but I think you are all adults and can handle it. And I don't <i>think</i> I shall suffer any repercussions. Astute readers will remember that three local hoodlums came calling when I lived on the Ranch, and that I thwarted an effort to break into the main house. I think they were responsible for poisoning the last three dogs, which in my books is a cardinal sin, too. Well, what goes around...<br />
<br />
During about a year after I left, houses were broken into and things went missing. One of the <i>pendejos </i>responsible - for the break-ins after I left and the attempted break-in at the Ranch - was found dead, but the other two carried on. Until about a year later, when, stark naked, they were whipped many times around the <i>zocalo </i>by men wielding boards with nails in. They were refused treatment at the local clinic, and have not been seen around since. I think they got off lightly, but here's the rub: it was not the police who administered punishment, it was the state-wide <i>narco-familia</i>, La Familia.<br />
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This group, whose name I don't want to use to often during this tale, is an interesting mix of contradictions: they present themselves as being devout members of the Church; they act as the police force in the small towns in the state; they dumped 25 dead people into an abandoned mine; they sell hard drugs to 10-year-olds; they probably have more money than the national government; they kill and/or assassinate police officers and federal agents. So you see the dilemma: I applaud the result but abhor the method. People in Quiringuicharo generally have very little. They are inter-related in the extreme, they help one another with everything and they mainly focus on getting through life as best they can. Family members, often in the US 'under the radar', send home what they can, which is often not a lot but is more than they could earn here. To have these evil little bastards breaking into homes and stealing what little the residents - probably their relatives - have, is more offensive to me than the more anonymous crime in places like LA. Some crime should be punished and the situation causing the rest of them should be remedied. There is more of a social network here than in the US, so people can get some subsistence money, and are entitled to medical care because they were born here. Families will pull together - which is probably where the name of the <i>narcos </i>comes from.<br />
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The situation reeks of vigilante justice, but the fact that these three tried to break into the house I was calling home deeply offended me, and I can't whole-heartedly condemn the instrument of retribution. What do you think?Rikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-50225280651772839412011-06-13T12:55:00.003-05:002011-06-13T12:55:32.693-05:002011 06 13Well, we’re still recuperating from the virus, but the rains have started so we’re not as miserable as we were. We are getting accustomed to the house and the neighbours, the routines of life in a hot country. We are so lucky in our friends, they have all been an immeasurable help, as well as a lot of fun.<br />
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Speaking of which, I am no longer a Catholic virgin. Yes, I have actually set foot inside a Catholic church and lived to tell the tale! My doctors, Celeste and Fernando, got married on Saturday. They were beautiful. I didn’t understand a lot of the mass, and the bits that I did understand offended my egalitarian/feminist principles, but all this stuff is important to the Kids, and therefore requires some degree of (feigned) respect on my part.<br />
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The church was hot as hell. It was full of people, some of whom were familiar to me from my last sojourn here. It was fun to see them, but my virus has settled in my larynx and I couldn’t talk so much as croak. The bride wore a white gown, quite simple, with black accents, such as the laces up the back of the bustier and in her hair. It was pretty. The groom, of course, was in a black suit. The parents of the nuptial couple were in long gowns or suits, gender appropriately, and looked very happy with the whole thing. The rest of the attendees ran the gamut from formal gowns to mini-skirts a la puta to jeans. Paul sang as part of the service, and did a beautiful job, especially considering that his throat was sore. I was surprised to hear such a lovely voice, actually, because when he sings along in the car, it ain’t quite so tuneful as one might like. As I get deafer, of course, slight variations in pitch no longer seem so apparent to me.<br />
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The mass was … interminable. All that bobbing up and down and talking back to the priest. Speaking of whom, he is a trained singer, and performed ‘Ave Maria (Schubert) during the ceremony, and immediately afterward, some Spanish high-range thing that I didn’t recognise. The Voice was more baritone than tenor, but he got the high notes easily if quietly, and was very pleasant to listen to. This is apparently not the norm, for priests to sing so much. I thought pride was a Catholic sin?? The accompaniment was a choir of 7 women, an organ and a violinist who suffers from the same affliction as I - he was noticeably out of tune. Cele and Fernando entered and exited to the Mendelssohn, but it was recorded badly - and why was it recorded with an organist in house? The choir and the priest had occasional disagreements about pitch as well, methinks the priest was correct.<br />
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We adjourned to a local hotel for the reception, and suffered massively from heat and noise, I mean music. The windows did not open, and the air-conditioning only affected half the room, so my table was dripping sweat most of the time. The food was interesting if unidentifiable. The band consisted of two men, a keyboard and a computer - and 8 million decibels of amplification. I couldn’t talk in the first place, and with all that, I couldn’t hear either. Gary had decided to stay home as he was coughing non-stop and didn’t want to interrupt the service, which turns out to have been absolutely unnecessary. I was disappointed to not be able to introduce him to the acquaintances at my table. Poor Cele and Fernando - the bride-and-groom first dance was to recorded music, played so loudly the speakers were blathering, and went on for 7 minutes. Then the parents of the groom danced with them, then the parents of the bride, all for another 6 minutes. Need I mention that my 29 year old friends don’t actually know how to waltz? 13 minutes of shuffling around while being video-taped is my idea of a good time, how about you? I made my escape - I mean departure - about 23:30, after the bride threw the bouquet. It was, all in all, an interesting experience, if one that I will hope to never have to repeat.<br />
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The other exciting trip this last week was to Morelia to finish getting Gary’s visa in order. Enrique drove us, which turned out to be the best of all possible worlds. In the first place, I wanted someone with us who is fluent in both English and Spanish and in the second, familiar with Morelia - we would have been completely fucked without him. The first address we had was the wrong office, and the right office was far enough away that it took us a little while to find it. Directions in Mexico consist of drive that way until you see X, then turn right and keep driving until you find what you’re looking for. Try telling that to a bus driver in broken Spanish. It was hot. It was crowded. It is impossible to find street addresses. People drive as though they are headed to an emergency, and frankly, in many cases, they are - of their own making. The ‘proper’ office closes for the day at 13:00, and we arrived at 12:33. We made it, G has the proper paperwork to complete, and then we have to return to Morelia. I hope Enrique is going to be available to navigate the currents, I don’t have any idea where in the hell we ended up.<br />
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Well, that about covers it. I have to go get a cell phone that works - the one I have has no Spanish language option and I can’t figure out how to dial international calls - and pay the internet bill. Have good week!<br />
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RRikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-13382456293769668152011-06-08T18:59:00.002-05:002011-06-08T18:59:34.477-05:002011 06 08Some pictures and info about our town: http://www.retireearlylifestyle.com/zamora.htmRikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7447252969636689256.post-61294589817316303242011-06-07T16:27:00.000-05:002011-06-07T16:27:26.216-05:002011 06 07Part Two<br />
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So, after a couple of days' sleep, we started to surface for short periods, interacting on some level and with various degrees of success with our friends/housemates pro tem who looked after the cats whilst we were gone. Lovely people, we are so lucky to have met a quintet of 20-somethings who think we're pretty cool for old shits. They didn't sign up for two years of cat-sitting, of course, but things do move more slowly in Mexico ... harrumph.<br />
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Speaking of cats, we have acquired a rare and special article of clothing: the Bripper. Bruce wanders over and flops himself upon one's feet and falls asleep. Living slippers! internal temp of 107! in the fucking summer south of the Tropic of Cancer or Capricorn or whatever we is. You realise, of course, that when we lived in the Cesspits and the average temps were 30F the Bripper was under the down comforter with his nose in his paws. No wonder they were worshipped by the ancient Egyptians.<br />
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Gary is thrilled. We have had two little thunderstorms in the last week, and he was missing them living in California. I like them 'cause they drop the temperature a bit. The cats ignore them, which is kind of surprising as Bruce was a stray and has been traditionally frightened of noise, including people he has met a million times but with whom he doesn't live. <br />
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The neighbourhood is a mix of newer and older houses, well-maintained for the most part and very quiet, which is a nice change from living on the Ranch. We have a tiny patch of dirt supporting a two-fronded palm of about my height. Gary is hoping to cultivate some of the veg we are not going to easily find here - different kinds of tomatoes, melons, whatever. I say more power to him, as long as I can eat what he grows, I'll be happy. There is also a concrete 'backyard', in which we will locate the laundry and the large fridge when they get here. We have two bedrooms on one side of the house, the living room and kitchen on the other, with the Bog in between the bedroom and kitchen. The humidity and temperature of the bog are a constant 44C regardless of ambient temps in the rest of the place. It is about a metre wide, and the toilet is equipped with a plastic split seat which happily sticks to one's arse from the sweat thereon. the shower enclosure is 10 m. square, which is a delight, and the shower head is so high up the wall I can almost reach it. I can see the installers on ladders up there putting it in - it ain't a pretty picture.<br />
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We are slowly recuperating, the lung crud (thanks, Arlene) gradually vacating the premises. We went out with our friend Paul last evening, who kindly took us shopping, and then we went to supper at a restaurant called La Poblanita. A lot of good food for three - for $30 US. The drawback with restaurants in Mexico generally is that they all have large televisions, loud and intrusive. I suppose it makes a change from US restaurants, where the patrons are loud and intrusive ...<br />
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I have to go stick my head in the refrigerator now.<br />
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RRikk Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14252026294131520330noreply@blogger.com3