It swirls around us, like a poisoned gas, and cannot be escaped......

_________________________

We awaken around 04:00 hours most mornings;  sometimes a bit earlier, sometimes a bit later.  This morning it was slightly later.  The morning chores and maneuvers include making a complex type of coffee with honey, cinnamon, whole milk, and at times ginger.   Whether in Texas or Mexico one must always feed the cats who are waiting at the first sign of life within the hearth-stead.  In Mexico that means dogs as well, but for now, we are positioned in what is becoming the shambles of what had been the greatest nation on Planet Earth.

We tune in a bit early for the Trump News (Fox and Friends - Weekend), thankful that we have a remote control whose volume button can reduce the volume of news blather and the offensive advertisements to zed.  After catching up a bit on the comics that went to sleep on my chest shortly before the midnight hour, I tune up the blather.

Upon hearing the new Trumpisms, even I, ever so accustomed to the ever-subjective "Donald", almost spill the coffee and stain my comics page.   It turns out that after being castigated by some poor Muslim man who had suffered the loss of his son in Iraq, Donald decided to take the bait and make an ass of himself (apologies to the Donkey-American community).

A person with any class at all would, of course, respond only with sympathy for the parents of the boy, a captain in the Army's infantry, who obviously sacrificed himself so that others under his command could continue in this life.  The parents resented Trump's resistance to Muslim immigration or something, and they were still (and forever will be) grieving about the loss of their son.

But Trump went out of his way to say obfuscative and pointless things about the father who had been very pointed in his remarks.  Trump also observed that the mother, who was present at the lectern of the Democrat National Convention, said nothing, and suggested that she was probably prohibited by her husband or her religion from speaking.   At each turn in his painful, self-oriented soliloquy he revealed his trademark egotism:   he explained his position from the point-of-view of a narcissist...that the matter was important because it was about him.   He could not say, "We must first consider the reasonable grief that the couple has, as would any parents at the loss of a child.   I will comment no further, and certainly not deny them any feeling the have about me.  End of statement."  That would have been, as it is said, Presidential.

But, Trump was, is, and apparently will remain, the overstating egomaniac, full of bluster and threatening of posture...thinking about his persona instead of the big picture.  He is exceeded only by (Sir Edmund) Hillary's cackling and shrieking about how she is going to give this group that, and that group this.  I mean, after all, is it not time that working women have "free" child care??After all, Miss Sandra Fluke with a law degree from Georgetown University needed to have 3,000 Yankee dollars worth of condoms per years provided "free" by Nancy Pelosi and the Central Government.  It really did seem like a small price to pay, especially if the rich would finally pay their fair share of taxes.   After all the top 10% only pay 90% of the taxes:  does that seem fair? They can always pay more.  

The lunacy of the left knows no bounds.   And as a matter of fact, there should be no income tax of any kind, in that it simply give the Central Government the ability to monitor every move a citizens makes and every breathe he/she takes.

We return to the axiomatic truth.  If somebody requires that something be purchased, subsequent inducements by the seller to the buyer are no "free".   One can say , "At no extra charge".   Or it can be stated, "Included in the price of purchase is a wobdoddle of the colour of your choice."   When politicians wave their hands and declare, "The minimum wage will be 15.00 USD / hour, how do they arrive at that point?   Why not, if their science is so pure and calculations so accurate, such as Global warming, cooling, changing, etc.  Why not 15.32 USD / hour?

Why not 22.22 USD?  Actually, the 22.22 USD figure is what it costs an employer to pay a full time employee a nominal 15.00 per hour.   The dolts who think they should be paid 15.00 hour because the government says so, as well as a great bulk of the American population, are unaware of what the actual cost of labour is, once "employer's contributions" are figured in, along with, where possible, retirement and health care benefits.   Even when the employee is "splitting" the cost with the employer, the fact is that the employer is paying all of the cost of the employment and the employee is earning all of the share of the cost.   That one truth is almost never considered by the Dolt Community and the everyone-is-picking-on-me Community.

Courtesy of Charliecatnip
 master cat portraiture

If these comments hurt peoples' feelings, sorry, but reality is real. Another reality that is all too real is that every government fix is designed to correct a problem that most frequently was caused by that same  government.  And, as before, every fix of the previous problem, of, by, and for the central government will lead to ever increasing programming by "specialists" and "experts".The proposals rendered by the wise men and wise persons will always be another form of midnight basketball for the numerous double reverse, re-transgendered, left-handed, Eskimos and heterochromatic-eyed cats.

Trump, for so long as he considers that Donald Trump is the issue and not America, only reveals by his conceit that his ill-defined platforms are simply variations of "Hope and Change" meant to assuage the dolt-community and dullard-community.  He is only very slightly better than (Sir Edmund) Hillary and her Song of the Gulag aimed at those who want anybody else to pay for their comfort and supposed wants and needs.

So far we are caught between Juan Peron and some feminine form of Uncle Joe Stalin. Each of the two major party candidates is worse than the other.  Nothing good can come from her, and very little seems possible from him save soap opera-like reality show episodes for four years.  We do not trust him, frankly, to appoint Constitutionalist Constructionists to the bench of any federal court system, much less the Supreme Court.  Both candidates are laden with the possibility of an avalanche of felony criminal charges and / or civil suits that lurk in the near shadows even as we type here.

______________________

Making matters worse:

The fancy saloons of Georgetown and Manhattan are abuzz with theories about the recent murders of two Democrat party operatives / employees who were murdered while out walking, and who had been thought to be co-operating with an FBI investigation involving (Sir Edmund) Hillary.   This is actually new, old stuff.   Massive efforts are being employed by the Obsolete Press, and even FOXNews, to keep the stories removed from public view.   Just enter something like "suspicious murders - Democrat National Committee and United Nations".   This follows, by a few days, the peculiar death of a UN slug who had been called to testify, who wound up with a barbell bar crushing his throat in the UN exercise room.   Purely happenstantial.....????

We shall look under the bed and through all the closets, then turn in until to-morrow's coffee and kitty routine.

El Gringo Viejo

______________________

Newly discovered video of the "Gentle Giant" Mike Brown!

     This is the Gentle Giant of Ferguson.   The Left and the Obsolete Press had this since the beginning.  They preferred to allow Ferguson, Missouri to burn than to print the truth.  We know now why the six who bore witness, as Black Men, deserve medals for heroism.   We now know why the Grand Jury deserves medals  for common decency and heroism.

     This is the cultural construct when paternity is replaced by a distant Uncle Sam who always has free money and no judgment or guidance drawn from scripture to bring progeny up in the ways of the righteous.    Planned Parenthood's mission to eliminate the Black Race by "birth control" did  not work, so now they try to eliminate the Race by an incomprehensible killing-field rate of slaughter in the inner cities throughout the United States.

   And while this continues, guns are blamed for the cultural rot and violence found in almost every middle sized and large American city.  The fact is that liberals, progressives, marxists, and various other anti-American philosophies tear down the moral fibre and traditions of this Republic.  And with that degradation of standards and conduct, violence and disrespect of the law and the people of the land abounds.  

29,354,361 Views

Bob Kitsemetry

21 December 2014 · iOS · 

     With each turn of the screw our American civilisation is further degraded.  When someone says, "The Government ought to do something about this!" remind that idiot that the mess appearing on your screen was brought to reality by the central government of the United States of America.

   
It was thought by some to be in the interest of "helping" people.  But the fact is, and always has been that the programmes aimed at "helping" people were actually meant to enslave them as proles dependent upon the Central government, and forever obliged to vote for more of someone else's money.   Remember that one of the better definitions of a leftist is that he is someone who is more than willing to put someone else's money where his mouth is.

El Gringo Viejo

_________________

Choir sings 'Battle Hymn of the Republic' to honor fallen Houston soldier

As a Confederate, I reserve some objection to this Anthem.  However the Anthem does recognise the Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth, and all things visible and invisible.  It has become, by accident, a National Hymn of sorts.

Young people of a school choir rose from their airplane seats and dedicated this Song of Majestic Celebration to an American KIA whose remains were being repatriated to the United States from a cemetery in Europe.

They did not know, care, or ask if the remains were that of an American Indian, a Negro, a Caucasian, Jew, Christian or an agnostic.   They did not care.  He was a hero and a close relative to those who lost him as he fought one of the most hideous cultural contaminants in the known history of mankind.

Mix into that batter that the ones who were singing are young people who recognised in this event something greater than themselves.  They rose and did something that in many ways made them equal to the hero they were honouring.

It seems that every time my soul wilts and turns inward, some single entity comes along to say, "Please, just a few more steps.   We can make it."

EL GRINGO VIEJO

Bubble, Bubble, Toil, and Trouble....(with a small but very important amendment sent in by El Zorro)

________________________

We have been having considerable problems with our little blog engine.  Coupled with having an Apple instead of a computer, we have the feeling that we are the knight who has lost both arms and both legs, but who continues to bravely fight on.

     Undaunted, El Gringo Viejo tries to wade through the mess that popular democracy, demagoguery, and an electorate incapable of critical thinking can make.  No small blame is passed to the "information industry", including FOXNews, for allowing this horrid construct.   Imagine two more flawed candidates than these two.   Can anyone remember Kennedy and Nixon?  Stevenson and Eisenhower? Reagan and Carter?  Neither of these two could hold an intelligent conversation with Adlai Stevenson, and Adlai was a Liberalus Maximus.

     We are left with two candidates suffering from terminal narcissism, illogic, mendacity-on- steroids, bluster, shallowness, patronising this and that group.  It truly is madness.  We are left with sad, older women and even some younger, stern-jawed professional women (and women whose profession it is to be 'women') who can say things like, "Hillary understands my needs and cares about them."

      We are surrounded at times by people who can say, "We need change." and really, really mean it.  We bump into people who droll forth with sparklers like, "He's going to give us free college."  Perhaps the biggest two flopping whoppers are "I'm going to build The Wall and make the Mexicans pay for it." and of course "I'm going to bring all those jobs back to America...right...back to America.   I'm going to do that.  Count on it.   America."  Holy brain synapse breakdown, Batman. 

     So we carry on...still not knowing what November 8, 2016 will bring to my hand in the voting booth.  Electoral vote from Texas will probably not be in jeopardy.  If (Sir Edmund) Hillary is still not in prison, Texians will turn out to vote for Clem Cadiddlehopper just to make certain that HRH is denied a second chance to defile the White House.  It was bad enough to have had Lincoln, Wilson, and the Roosevelts there.   Perhaps if HRH (Sir Edmund) Hillary could return she could channel that meddlesome old battle ax Eleanor Roosevelt simultaneously with Vince Foster and have a wonderful seance.   But I diverge.....

     Writing in Ted Cruz would be an option, knowing that the bulk of the Texas electorate will probably hold its nose and vote for "Make America Great Again" (hear the echo....hope and change....hope and change.....hope and change),  But, what if they don't? 

     Then again, perhaps the FBI will have a change of heart and go arrest Lois Lerner, Loretta Lynch, and (Sir Edmund) Hillary, Sidney Blumenthal, Huma Weiner, and Susan Rice and transfer them all to le Isle Saint Helene where they can commune with the spirit of Napoleon Bonaparte, who died there in 1821 of stomach cancer. (El Zorro causes me to add Debbie Isaman Shultz, should they decide to do the right thing).  They can contemplate on three of Napoleon's most profound guiding observations:

Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake.

A leader is a dealer in hope.

In politics stupidity is not a handicap.

    Please pardon the gentle banality of this submission.  My indisciplined computer and blogging system, plus the problems that the political theatre have presented to my otherwise well-cluttered and enjoyable mind leave me in a bit of a quandary.  This quandary is something akin to the ancient Brea Tar Pits.   Top that off with the fact that to-morrow at 08:15 I am required to report to the dentist.  And it's not even my birthday.

More Later.

El Gringo Viejo

_______________________

After Considerable Consideration......

__________________________________

     As has been said many and sundry times, these are the times that try men's souls.  We have been wandering about, listlessly and trying, if anything, not to think beyond the moment.   This was helped to some degree during the latter stages of our last stay down at our little adobe hut in the Mexican outback.    We had the misfortune, and yet, the opportunity for the performance of many low-heroic moments on the part of many a common man.   The "common men" were drawn from the little ejido (rural agricultural congregation / village) of Francisco I. Madero, Municipal de Hidalgo, Tamaulipas.

     The incident was a fire.  The fire was a matter that burned before authorisation, permits, and other door-to-door informative norms that are usually practiced in that area.  It was even set by the ground-clearing crew involved, notwithstanding the orders of the landowner who specifically forbade any burning at this time of the year, known as "La Canicula" or what the English-speaking world knows at "The Dog Days of Summer".  At this writing, we are nearly mid-way through this year's "Canicula", forty days of heat, usually very dry, but sometimes interrupted by tropical waves or even hurricanes.

___________________

     The events went something like this missive which we sent around to family upon return.  I believe it went out on the Thursday morning after my re-entry to Texas on Tuesday afternoon.   Selected portions of that account are included below:

Hello all...

     We have been out of the loop due to the fact that our telephone, television, and computer have been in dry-dock since Saturday last.   This was cause due to "someone" having cut our TWC cable-line that pertains to our system.  In my way of thinking, it had to have been the Time-Warner crew that was working  (during my absence) behind our place back last Saturday.   I was not in-country at that time, so the evidence is not available to justify certainty.  These events are never pleasant.   Your humble servant arrived here in the Magic Lower Rio Grande Valley around mid-day Tuesday past.  Service was restored to our Television, telephone, and computer to-day at 11:15 after being out for over five days.

     In any regard, we had a fairly uneventful stay of it, until near the end.  Our neighbour, Rafael Salazar, had ordered the services of a land clearing company to take out the old dead and dying Valencia orange trees that once composed the bulk of the Hacienda de La Vega's production.  That orchard was well into decline by the time we built our place there back at the turn of the century.  It had been planted originally in the mid - 1930s.    Now is was necessary to clear everything off and make the final preparations so as to begin the process that will end with the completion of planting about 125 acres in limes of a very special and highly sought-after type.   It is anticipated that the entire process should be done on or about 15 November 2016.   At this point, things are a bit ahead of schedule.

     Our problems began last Saturday.   A team of men were working with two Caterpillar D-6s,  and one D-9, with really heavy disc assemblies (4 - row, 36 - inch diametre  disc assemblies, totalling 40 discs, each disc weighing 120 pounds), literally pulverising everything beneath their path.   Some time late in the morning it became apparent that the men had started fires that were intended to burn up the accumulated wood and chaff associated with the clearing project.   The owner of the land, Rafael, had told the owner of the clearing and cleaning service that there would be no burning of anything because the area was dry, and the "canicula"  (dog days of Summer) was on, so burning would be done after obtaining the necessary permits and after establishing a prudent burn plan, considering the neighbours, and the fact that the Rio Corona's Sabine-cypress trees range from 400 to 1,300 years old and are quite famous.  It is worth noting that I was present when Rafael told the clearance company man about this matter and how it must be understood that there would be no burning.

      To shorten the rather lengthy story, we return to Saturday, around mid-day when El Gringo Viejo begins to have an uneasy feeling.   The various mounds of stuff are being set afire.  They are feeding over into other strewn chaff, steadily lighting the next mound to the east, as the variable and strengthening winds would permit.   The smoke was becoming quite noticeable, along with increasingly worrisome warmth that augments temperatures that are already in the upper - 90s, and heading for 102 - 104 degrees during the afternoon.    I go over to the main entry gate and look around, even as the smoke is beginning to be oppressive.   I am astounded to note threat no effort had been given to the forming of a perimetrical double-pass in width around the edge of the property line of the area under concern,   This would be the minimal norm for providing a border that could serve to protect both the primitive areas and riverine forests as well as houses adjacent to the Hacienda de La Vega.   But, alas, the bramble and all kinds of forest-fire friendly fuel was in full abundance along the Rio Corona as well as on the approach the house of EL Gringo Viejo....the now-famous Quinta Tesoro de la Sierra Madre.   After that, there were over 100 homes that would face certain devastation.

     At about 14:30 hours, I loaded up the rear of the Jeep Cherokee with a few clothes, my little suitcase with underwear, socks, t-shirts and the like, my shaving bag, money bag, documents about the property and house, threw the cats outside to their fortune, and made one last try to raise interest in the issue among the locals.   I drove into the Hacienda de La Vega and encountered about forty people at the little home of the the manager preparing to celebrate the birthday of said manager....all on them in full danger of slower moving, but still very active north-bound fire-line.   I tried to convince them to move, and that they only had about 15....perhaps 20....minutes of escape opportunity.   They remained immobile and confused.....at best.  They were waiting for the manager to return from a nearby village with chickens for grilling and with his daughter (not for grilling) so as to continue with the birthday celebration. They said he was due at any second.

     Then I turned and essentially made a quick drive down the longest lane in our village trying to alert each and every person I saw or whom it was thought might be at home.   For a second my brain coughed up a bad correlation...that of Paul Revere....at the point I was driving up to the home of Alvaro's (the Quinta's majordomo) sister and brother-in-law...Imelda and Efrain.  All were gone to Monterrey, save for Efrain, whom I managed to stir from siesta...he had done the early morning shift at the Hacienda de Santa Engracia (to-day a hotel) where he is the chief of the service staff and general charge d' affairs.  I told him what was going on and he immediately set out on his bicycle, declaring that he would try to collect more men.  He was told that I would  return to the Quinta and extend the hoses by another couple of fifty-foot lengths and meet them at the Brazil tree, about 50 feet to the south of the Quinta's "long, west-facing corridor   There I would have the hose with the "fireman's nozzle" and a few extra buckets.   Almost everyone arrived, however, with one large bucket and a smaller bucket for working little 'hot-spots'  with greater dexterity and accuracy.    In all, Efrain had brought about six or seven, while others were arriving one-by-two, half-trotting on the grade down the little trail where people, in normally calmer moments, would drive the few feet to the very nearby Rio Corona.

     We had water coming into our cistern, as per normal, starting at 15:00 hours, and our cistern was starting off essentially totally full from the day before, and that was our one best blessing.   So I set about to fill buckets as they were presented  and / or arrived.  If there were no buckets, I sprayed the fire in in front of me....about 15 - 17 feet to the fore and to each side.  The fact is, however, that 97% of the real work was done by the bucket people....harder and more dangerous.

     It was 40 minutes of the hardest work in my presence during this life.   The manager of the Hacienda de La Vega had returned with his daughter and the chicken, scruffed up the Caterpillar team....scolding them severely....and forced them to return to our fire-line, essentially a third of a mile away, on the other side of the Hacienda de La Vega.   I had seen them through the smoke, slowly clattering, squealing, roaring, squeaking as they approached ever closer to us....pulling their disking assemblies back to make a to-and-fro pass literally right in front on us.  How they could breathe in the smoke, I have no idea,

    The manager, a fellow named Ciro, came trotting up through the smoke with his big bucket and little bucket to join the fight.  Amazing.  Buying chicken for the barbecue, bringing his daughter down, driving through the smoke to see if his house and the family and other celebrants were still there and alive, then getting down and running over to the Caterpillar drivers and giving them Holy Hell and scathing, profanity-laced rebuke and ordering them to return to the fight that they had caused and then abandoned....and now coming to the fight himself, with his own buckets.   Ah, Mexico. (....by the way, Ciro has never used profanity of any kind within my hearing for the 15 years that I have known him)

     Being older and using that authority, he began to order some of the people to return to their homes and remain available if possible.   Efrain discharged a few as well, but about half remained.   Efrain had promised my back-door neighbour, Anastacio (Tacho) that I would give him a beer at the end of the fight.   After another hour, all had returned home save for Efren, who stayed around to make sure I did not keel over and croak.   He and Ciro would return to hold a vigil during much of the night to watch for possible flare-ups.   Four or five of their posse would be with them.  I sought out Anastacio next door and offered him another beer and 100 pesos for his trouble.  He took the beer, but refused the money.   I protested  and said, "Pero, Don Tacho, Usted ayudo' en salvar a mi casa (But, Tacho, you helped to save my house),"  But he responded, "Y Usted ayudo' en salvar a la mia (And you helped save MY house)".   Ah, Mexico.

    The next morning, at around 7:45, Ciro came back with a bucket, and declared that he had seen a bit of smoke near where we had been working the late afternoon before.   So I took the hoses down again and a few buckets and he rooted out the smoldering area and drowned it. 

     There are many side stories.  A lady from the National Forestry Commission, which my neighbour, the owner of the Hacienda de La Vega, had headed up the Northeastern Division (four States) called him after I had informed him about the fire.   This lady advised my neighbour that the Mexican satellite that monitors  such things as forest fires, etc. had sent the automatic notification to the Commission and she recognised the co-ordinates as being the Hacienda de La Vega.   It was evaluated to be a Level One (most potentially dangerous) conflagration and the estimated "ruin" was about 125 acres but no structures.   It was later evaluated as "controlled".  

     That is some of the story about "The Fire" .

EL GRINGO VIEJO

______________________

A Secret for Texas - Aquarena Springs