THE BIGGEST SINGLE CAUSE OF THESE MASSACRES:
We would like to express the one perfect and total solution to the eruption of massive public murders by firearm and / or bomb during the past forty years. We include the Luby's - Temple massacre (1991), now long forgotten, wherein 23 people died, along with the satanic perpetrator. Before that, we had a perpetrator, a Marine, who went up into the University of Texas "Tower", several times one morning, carrying oddly shaped crates and boxes, Charles Whitman went up, and around noon one August day in 1966, set about murdering (besides his wife and mother earlier) 19 people and wounding 30 or so, from ranges between 600 and 1,400 yards. And the libs said he was insane, and the fault was with the gun...just having the gun in the house provoked him into killing people.....?????
The fact is, he was under the care of a psychiatrist, associated with the University of Texas professorial class. Whitman had been using "behavioural control" medicines for a while, and the mixing was considered normal. My father, who was "on campus" that day giving a lecture, was discussing differential assessment of non-English speaking children when measuring Intelligence Quotient. He thought it might be a good idea to administer the test in an understood language.
As a person fluent in Spanish, he managed to assist in the release of almost 150 children that had been sent to the facility for the un-helpworthy, mentally retarded, due to the fact that their actual IQ's ranged from 115 to nearly 150.
And we were paying taxes to maintain people of this intellectual level? God Save the Queen!!
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The feel-good notion about "ending fully-semi-automatic gun deaths that are always killing children and me all the time"...allows us to re-open the issue from yesterday's blog entry. We would like to demonstrate what a leftist rally always looks like at the end. Leftists are full of their own hubris and egotism. They feel whatever they do is "right-on" by definition.
Perhaps this is because they were raised by parents who used Dr. Spock as their guide. Perhaps it is because the parents hate their children and give them anything they ask for just to get them out the door, out of sight, or anywhere save for where the parents are. Dr. Spock's greatest fear was that the darling little angels might encounter negativity at some point within the first 400 or 500 years of pre-adult life.
We are amazed who the Great Spokesman for the "student movement against fully semi-automatic, NRA-produced, B-52 long-clip, assault rifles" is when he has such difficulty making it through two or three sentences without dropping several "f-bombs".
When your humble observer was a pre-delinquent back in the 1950s and 1960s, it is certain that my father would have rattled my teeth if he had heard me singing a song in the shower with such lyrics included. Were I to have said such things in mixed company and among adults and/or ladies in those days, my father would have rattled my teeth right there and then.
When I jumped on the assistant principal "in charge of disciplinary matters" for McAllen High School in October of 1963 for allowing seven ruffian bullies to beat up on two nerds in the bleacher row in front of them during a pep-rally in the gymnasium, I told him, "Those guys were beating up on those kids with their heavy rings, banging them on the head and face."
When we (three or four 'preppies' seated nearby) tried to intervene, the assistant principal came over and "detained" us, the preppies, and directed me as the "ringleader" to meet him in his office in 15 minutes.
After 90 minutes, the "assistant principal in charge of disciplinary matters" finally arrived and wanted to know why we were causing such a disturbance during a pep-rally, especially considering that this would be a district title football game coming up. I returned the favour by suggesting that my buddies and I were intervening on behalf of two 75-pound nerds with pencil necks and slide-rules and pocket protectors. The "assistant-principal for disciplinary matters" declared that the only thing he saw was a bunch of clowns trying to impress the girls and distract from Mr. Snavely's band's performance, (He was directing the playing our fight songs, Dixie and La Bamba. Both ditties were regarded by everyone at McHI including the preppies, as something like Religious Anthems and Patriotic songs).
My mistake was to say, "No, you chose to see that, because you are afraid physically and politically of those bums...two of whom are with the XXXXXXXXXX ownership and administration and the rest have violent crime arrests! Your problem is that you don't give a damn about the victims, while you are protecting the bullies!!!
Instantly the assistant principal stood up, and ordered me out, but only after declaring, "You are suspended due to lack of respect for an employee of the McAllen School District, and you have used inexcusable profanity in a school setting with ladies present. I shall allow you to attend class on Monday, but only on the guarantee that you will have your mother or father here at 4:00 p.m. on Monday to understand the conditions of your re-entry without suspension, but with probation!"
That was the nature of things in in 1963. My mother came that Monday and said something about insiped, over-paid potentates, and left. I followed her and we rode in silence to the house. Arriving, my mother declared, "I cannot figure you out. Sometimes I think you are a coward, and other times I think you are Don Quixote, afraid of nothing and willing to die for nothing. Don't Change." We got down, went inside, and went about our chores and duties.
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Continuing with this dismal feeling-our-way through the Dark Ages of the 1950s and early 1960s, it is necessary that we visit the Teenaged Republicans club of McAllen and their activities. We wanted to attend the Campaign Rally for Jack Cox, Republican candidate for Governor of Texas in 1962. We washed 2,330 autos in McAllen and Mission and Sharyland, at 5.00 Yankee dollars per vehicle over an eight-weekend period. Some enterprising girls sold 300 dozen chocolate-chip cookies, homemade by their own skilled hands, and that brought another batch of shekels. (The McAllen TAR group was the largest in the nation, of all things, with a membership of 300+, and your humble servant was the President of the McAllen Teenaged Republican Club. El Zorro was, essentially, the Ramrod Plenipotentiary for this and other TAR activities during those times.)
We came up with around 12,000 or so yankee dollars to lease 6 busses from Valley Transit Company to make an early morning and then a turnaround, and return late at night for the 650 mile round trip. Each voyager had to pay for his/her snacks, meals, rest-stop refreshments, etc. Our oldest "teenager" was 19 (a senior), and our youngest were four or five eleven-year olds with a "nanny" and four or five 12 year olds. All were required to care each for him/her and all for one another. Your humble servant and the real ramrod of the even, El Zorro, along with the drivers, ran up and down after rest-stops.
We had Mr. Dave Horger (an attorney and brother of a Texas Ranger) and Mr. Ray Russell, who was a respected real estate attorney and accountant, our sponsors, as "escorts".
It was all done with "kids" who were 14 - 16 years of age, for the most part. There were no law-suits, insurances beyond that which was provided by the common carriers, although we did require parental permission, especially after it was learned that Jayne Mansfield was going to grace the proceedings at the Coliseum in Austin...there in the downtown of the real, live capital, (little did I know that almost all the Newton family would be living in Austin in less than five years).
Suffice to say the Coliseum was full...perhaps 12,000 shrieking junior elephants...having the chance to "go crazy" for a bald guy who, in fact, almost beat John Connelly, the hand-picked lackey for LBJ to run Texas while LBJ was running the country into the pig-stye. Connelly changed parties shortly after LBJ declared that he would not be a candidate for re-election in 1968.
To the right, one can appreciate the Capitol building of the Republic of Texas. It should be enough to point out that the building is both heavier and higher than United States Capitol building. One can note that the Christmas tree is standing in front of the Confederate Memorial. Yankees, Black Folks, dumboes like me, dogs and cats, liberal Yankee professors at the University of Texas, Extraterrestrials, and people on Social Security visit there and in the incredible insides of the building, and none of them have ever fallen down and quivered as though in a seizure.
Many of our 1962 Group visited the incredible building, went to Youngblood's Chicken Restaurant (near the Coliseum and Capitol) and scratched their heads about the sign that announced "White Only" over that door, and "Coloured Entrance" over another door, "over there". In South Texas we were lucky because, essentially almost everyone in deepest South Texas was WHITE!!!!!. Many of our campaign supporters had never experienced segregated facilities.
To make an overly long story as short as possible, we did the two huge pep rallies and local high school bands playing for an obviously political event (it was legal back then if the contractors paid a 'reasonable' engagement to the school's band fund.) The bands were very good, almost as good as McAllen's. We loaded our busses and turned south at San Marcos and headed to the Rio Grande. People (kids) were tired, happy, and tired. Snacks...Fritos...ice-chests with bean dip...all nature of goodies, but no weed. A few guys had to go to the back of the bus to smoke cigarettes, but, heck, James Dean said we had to do that in order to be "cool".
So, Gringo Viejo....so what? Is there a point? Yes...this picture below was not from a Tea Party, Republican, Conservative, or right-wing event. It was from the snowflake-snots who, 3,000 strong, ran from One single shooter, while 2 ROTC fellows, one in uniform I think, and a Coach tried to protect or interdict. They died trying.
3,000 ran and quivered, against the assault by one. Does anyone remember the three Gringos on the French rail car...even the French made some effort, but the three Gringos, of different stripes, but all militarily trained, without arms, subdued the Alahu akbar nutcase before he could do much damage. Land of the Free...Home of the Brave...What Price the Sacrifice of Valour?
In any regard, below, you can see what a leftist, snotty-nosed arrogant, immature even for a bunch of teenies led by their commie and "progressive" puppeteers, leave behind for all the "little people" to clean up. C-SPAN anyone? Can you please tell the truth?
This is the "real" capital of the Gringos...not some movie set or crummy Republic of Texas place where everybody is a racist all the time. The Capital of the USA deserves better respect. Our rally in Austin in 1962 ended only after the Coliseum was cleaned up and ready for the next event. The custodial crew, all Black men of very high degree, guided us in our clean up and expressed sincere gratitude with our civility. Even the Hootsie-snootsie Republicans (who also considered themselves our betters, since they were from Houston and Dallas) got their hands dirty.
A couple of the ranking members of the crew kept telling us, "You all need to leave a little, otherwise the management might think they don't need us anymore." Laughter...but there came a point when it was obviously better to make way for the "pro's". They took over with the new-fangled plastic bags and the sweeping / vacuuming under theatre seats, etc. and perfected the effort.
We lost that election, 52 / 48 after all the votes were counted. Such a close tally between a Democrat and a Republican had never been experienced for a governor's race since even before Reconstruction. But such a close tally caused us to be ready to attack, attack, attack.
After all we had elected, in a special by-election, a 5'5" college history professor for Senator to the Yankees' Upper House back in 1961 to fill Lyndon's (LBJ) open seat. A truly good man, Bill Blakeley (D), ran against John G. Tower (R), the Midwestern University, Texas history professor and 57 other candidates in the by-election.
Tower and Blakely had to face off in a run-off...and to the surprise of everyone, Tower, the Republican, had been selected by the Texians to be their United States Senator, by a somewhat light by-election vote, but by a very decisive margin.
(It turned out that Kennedy's notion of keeping Lyndon on the Democrat ballot as Vice-President was to make certain that Texas would "go Democrat" in 1964. It might have been the sealing of his demise, instead.)
Many analysts figured that the close victory in Texas in the Presidential election of 1960 - 51.5 / 48.5 - was because Lyndon helped pull, by hook and crook, the narrow victory through the eye of the needle {40,000 vote difference with 2,100,000 votes cast}.
The fact was that people who voted for the Democrat Kennedy, did so in spite of Lyndon, who trailed his Roman Catholic, Yankee, Massachusetts Kennedy running mate in approval ratings by fifteen to twenty per cent.)
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This picture is the least of it. Apparently the media sources have learned to not take street and gathering-place "portraits" after BLM and OWS and LGEBPyHHEXDMETWO Rallies and
pointless, meaningless demonstrations in favour of self-pity and obnoxiousness. So, I waited
about three hours too long before searching for the pictures we wanted,
but, by that time they had been expunged.
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All of the above is prologue. The main thing to remember is...The diagnosis of males at the age of 8 - 9 on up to 10 - 12, with some kind of "hyper-active disorder" became a drumbeat and a death-knell for many elementary school and pre-secondary school males during the latest 1960s and the 1970s. Anti-male orientation by some, young psychologists trying to blend in to the trendy, and a notion that clear, horribly damaging liquids in a hypodermic or pills promising a "new-life" without manic / depressive episodes, etc. would solve all the problems of the interruptive, over-active males in the fifth grade. Overly active females, gossipy, snippy, sneaky, and manipulative, was okay, until they became "bi-polar". Bi-polar is another term for loading juveniles and young women and others up with "medicine".
It is a reaonsble question to ask to the writer, "What right or justification do you have? You only have one liberal arts degree from one university of little import." To that accusation I yield. But I do point out that my poor education is buttressed by a very, very deep set of experiences. Those and the studies, and activity within the problem with "hyperactive boys" have reinforced my certainty that discipline with a gentle hand would be much better than finding out that Billy and Sam, who dropped out in their junior year, just shot up the RITZ THEATRE and killed a hundred people. Billy and Sam, as were so many of their mates, were strung out on marihuana, "behavioural control medicine", and whatever street goodies were / are popular at the moment.
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The next of our Song of Lamentation Programme is the remarkable phenomena of cleaving unto any blurb issued by a Nature Lover or a Habitat Protector or an Ecological Balance Monitoring Agent, etc. On the farm, when we lived on a real live farm, which also worked in tandem with a citrus-grove care business with many, many clients, mostly absentee Yankees, my two brothers and I learned lessons about respect for nature and the true and proper order of Christian stewardship by the age of four or five.
These lessons were delivered by Agustin Salinas (QEPD) my father's mayordomo, my mother and father, and my quirky Confederate maternal grandparents. I never knew my paternal grandparents because they died long before my time.
We learned about the care of animals, dirt, water, machinery, workers, clients, weather, markets, pneumatics, mechanical power transmission, wild and wilderness animals. Without doubt, and it is with certain knowledge, we can state that our learning, training, and understanding has evolved and has maintained currency. But, we also know that much of the understanding being employed by "experts" at this time seems to be something that almost has to be purposeful deception.
At the Santa Ana Wildlife Refuge, situated between the Military Highway (old US281) and the Rio Grande south of Donna, Texas, we have seen the erection of a hyper-sacrosanct secular "Eco -Cathedral". It is a place of pilgrimmage, to which the trundling nuns and monks, many parading as bird-watchers, wish to "stop the Trump Wall!!!". It is a psychotic tantrum, fuelled by ignorance, and re-enforced by arrogance.
Quickly, we regress to the past. In Salineno, Texas, some 80 miles upriver from the ancient
Spanish-land grant cousin anciently recognised as Porcion de Santa Ana, there is a sleepy village on the Rio Grande. It is a spin-off of the Jurisdiccion de Mier land assignment during the Spanish Colonial period. Salineno apparently was the first, continually inhabited, white settlement, by law and legal process in the Lower Rio Grande Valley of Texas. There are various sandstone buildings (big then in 1763, but almost doll-house small now) still in use as nice, viable homes. There still is a vibrant ranching and blue-collar business activity there. Of the old families, the ancient families of Spain's various faces are instantly recognisable.
About 20 years ago, the cartel people who lurked on both sides of the Rio Grande, implemented a rarely, but effectively used manoeuvre to confound and intimidate the local hicks (people like me).
Old Man Gonzalez had the "general store" which was a veritable wonderland of memories fitted into the inside of an old Sears home. In all probability it had come up the Rio Grande on a steamer in the years before 1906 (when river passages ended), and then been transported in sections by ox-teams, the 15 miles to Salinen~o. Some of the smaller stuff could have been delivered by small row-boats, also used in that area at that time for such matters. We are talking about 1885 or so. Mr. Gonzalez was a sainted, generous man who would "...let us pay when we came back"...when we were wayward high school campers / fisherman in this beautiful stretch of Rio Grande. (We always paid up, upon return)
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Salineno is there in the extreme westernmost part of Starr
County, there below Falcon Dam. We spent many, many
nights between there and Chapeno, on the Rio, three, even
four nights, fishing, searching for Indian artifacts and dart
point, etc. It was as close to Tom and Huck as a bunch of
Preppies could have ever approached. |
The Gonzalez family owned and operated the store until 1999. Then one very early morning, the large frame building on the main plaza (well-maintained, gravel and caliche, flat rectangle) area, across from the old Keralum Roman Catholic Mission church...the store "caught fire". Well, how could that happen? As I encountered the mess, still smelling of recent burning, but about two weeks after the fact, a great-nephew came up and said. "You are the Gringo David?", to which I had to answer, "Yes. I am he. Where is Don Fulgencio?". The young man informed me that his great-Uncle had died about three days after the fire, just a few hours short of his 90th birthday. There had been a party, even including a pinata, before the fire, but now....?
Why did all this have to happen? It was because the cucarachas then, as now, did not give a rat's tail about anything but getting their "stuff" over the border and on its way to Studio 54 for the hootsie-snootsies to do their snortsie-wortsies in their fancy "powder-rooms" and elsewhere. After all, to the people whom Parade Magazine declare to be superior to laws and morality, they need their "stuff" man...so, move aside...or....
And so there we were and here we are. The Fire Department of Roma, Texas (fifteen miles away) which was barely a recognisable entity at that time (now is it Triple-A minor league, very professional operation, and improving), and other local volunteer units (one step above bucket-brigade), responded and did what they could, but with the Customs Patrol, the Border Patrol, the this/and/that INS and whatever personnel available with their attention turned towards the iconic Gonzalez Store, which was reduced to ashes, literally, there was nothing left to do.
Over a tonne of marihuana and several heavy "bultos" of cocaine and such were passed at the Vado de Santa Margarita and the village up on the old freight road, (now US83) for transshipment to San Antonio and/or Houston. The "fire-fighters" felt as though they were made "burros" and clowns, but such is not the case. The constabulary and nexus did what was reasonable...and that was what the American authority did. In these times, there is a bit better control between Mexican and American and Texian authority and response. Still cumbersome, it is better.
The people who essentially worship the thing that is Santa Ana Wildlife Refuge fall on the ground wailing and quivering, make senseless posters with epithets meaning nothing, and chant about how Reagan and Bush want more dead children and dead old people and ocelots. They declare that Trump's wall will kill the "ecology" (I have never figured out what the "study of ecol" amounts to, but we keep trying).
The people who come to our little place in the middle of Nowhere, Mexico, about 250 miles to the southwest of Santa Ana Refuge, and stay in order to relax, drink beer, talk and inquire, and look for birds frequently turn the conversation to the visit to Santa Ana Wildlife Refuge. Almost to the person, they say that Santa Ana is something like an outdoors petting zoo. It seems neglected in many ways and the paths feel like Interstate Highways with trundling hundreds of folks lugging camera with 3-foot long lenses and battery-packs mounted with solar panels. (just joking, folks...don't become overly excited)
The idea of the ecologically correct tree huggers is that if there is no direct control of the accesses and pathways...(for instance, no directing Wall or obstacle to impede the traffickers)...that there will come that inevitable time when the human smugglers and/or drug traffickers will set fire to the entire small refuge at a point near the flood-control levee on the south side, so as to facilitate a passing of the stuff over by Toluca Ranch on the Rio Grande to the east. It is all so silly, shallow, and egotistical. When the wind is strong from the southeast, sometime when it might be necessary to the traffickers, they will essentially burn down the Wildlife Preserve so as to pass a crummy ten million dollar drug run.
It is a reasonable effort to keep and hold people in the Lower Rio Grande Valley for as many hours and days and weeks as possible. But, the people who come to our Quinta on the Corona River, quite close to the Tropic of Cancer, like the fact that there are no feeders, only community trails and pathways, and that there is a large degree of chance and accidental and spontaneous...essentially 100% unscripted...bird happenings. Our annualised count is now over 500 different species. We also have the 2nd heaviest Monarch Flyway between the North and the Wintering grounds to the South in Michoacan near Angangueo and visa versa during the return flight in March to the North.
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OKAY, THEN WHY ARE WE HERE?:
The point is that the Mara Salvatrucha (MS - 13)...a name that means nothing...nonsense...and the Callejon 18 and all the variations of that group, and all the little wormy, less than single-A minor league nothings like their predecessors who adjunct to those "big-league" love death and destruction.
I cannot write here what some of them must do in order to achieve true membership in the Mara Salvatrucha...it has to do with insertion, a blade, then dismemberment and burning or some similar degradation...of the mother of the initiate.
Obama, Michelle, the Democrats, and the Catholic Charity people declare that we are racists because we do not want these and such people within our orbit. (Sir Edmund) Hillary, Duchess of Corkscrew, declares that we are "deplorable" because we know the nature of the MS - 13 and their disciples. She and the progressives who are so much wiser than us, need to be aware that we commoners would rather not be ruled by or terrorised by such vermin that she and her kind during the Reign of Barry Soetoro allowed to swarm over us. Check the Central American "barrios" in Houston, Chicago, St. Louis, etc. They account for all the increase in homicide stats since 2013.
Gun control, without doing much concerning the over-juicing of males between the ages of 12 and 20 with "kinder and gentler" behaviour-control drugs need to be examined VERY CAREFULLY in terms of the usefulness of those drugs. The drugs are the main "floating variable" in all of this madness.
I am done.
This may well be my last post, because there is really nothing that can be done against a 200 foot tidal wave of stupidity and false credo. Remember, Global Warming is real...I know because it all turned out to be false. That is our new reality.
El Gringo Viejo...
In spite of the moanings and groanings of the Tree Hugger Class, it is certainly true that bobcats, jaguarundies, pumas, and such are actually increasing in number. This is in the USA as well as Mexico.
So now we have the Mexican Black Squirrel, pictured to the left, obviously a male, who has become ravenously addicted to the mulberries on the tree next to our corridor. The birds are tolerant of him, but I am not, because I know that when the mulberries run out, he will begin to search out electrical wiring insulation. We have also caught him, not only eating our mulberries, but also smoking mulberry leaves down below in our more hard-to-reach parts of our property. He has been reported to the proper authorities. Meanwhile we are looking for other beasties to entertain us during the day. There is an abundance, even including insects.
El Cielo is a natural and cultural resource regarded as one of Mexico's true nature treasures. Our Charge d'affaires and his people were and are involved in the protection of that area to this day.
