Gigbaggin' it

The Passing of an Original

2011-06-20T02:58:00.000-05:00

" When the change was made uptown
And the Big Man joined the band
From the coastline to the city
All the little pretties raise their hands
I'm gonna sit back right easy and laugh
When scooter and the Big Man bust this city in half... "

Clarence Clemons: January 11, 1942 – June 18, 2011

Rest in Peace,

Big Man.

The Confluence of Short-sighted Business Decisions, Large Contracts and Government

2011-01-05T17:26:00.000-06:00

Pilot's view of air-to-air refueling with a 'boomer'

Francisco Javier Cruz Hernández wrote:

Boeing's outsourcing of production of the KC-767: is this the claimed Boeing’s “made in America"?

Boeing KC-767

There is a classic urban legend that tells that "buying Boeing" means protecting American jobs. Boeing has outsourced a lot of the B767 airframe. Whether you review part by part, you can conclude that most of the B767 is coming from overseas. Let's go to the specific data: the fuselage, tail, wings, doors, landing gear and other major components for Boeing's KC-767 are built subcontracted in Japan and Italy. In fact, the tendency is Boeing is shifting more and more workpackages related to B767 to Italy and Japan.

The motives for Boeing’s outsourcing to Japan and Italy are to access these markets, to spread risk, to gain access to capital, and lower US spending on research and development.
This has clear implications for US trade and employment, in that Japanese and Italian subcontracting boosts foreign imports and reduces the need for domestic production workers and US suppliers.

Boeing has opted for a systems integration mode of production. Under this system, key components and sub-assemblies are designed and manufactured by external suppliers. Boeing has especially favored Japanese companies for major subcontracts. The Boeing B767 was the first US aircraft program that entailed substantial outsourcing in aircraft manufacturing since 1970.

Japan aerospace industry (Mitsubishi, Fuji and Kawasaki) builds a high percentage of the Boeing 767. And this outsourcing is growing at a high rate. Boeing is going to contract 35 percent of the B787-airframe structures to Japan.

Therefore, if you compare the KC-767 vs. KC-45, you can realize that Boeing KC-767 is comprised of more foreign made components than the EADS North America KC-45 Tanker. While Boeing is dis-investing in America aviation industry, EADS will invest in the development of the aviation industry in America. EADS North America has a real commitment to American industry and workers.

Airbus/EADS KC-45

Boeing has come to rely more and more on Japanese and Italian subcontractors. Boeing is transferring large quantities of previously American aerospace jobs to Japanese and Italian aerospace consortiums. Adding salt to the American economy’s wounds because that much of the B767 was developed with help from U.S. taxpayers, spite of that fact, the most of the Boeing 767 and KC-767 are built in Japan and Italy rather than in the United States.

And of course, Frank's Take on This Whole Boondoggle...!

Pilot's view of air-to-air refueling using a drogue trailed behind each wing

I was working out of southern Alabama when the tanker project was 'awarded' to them - the Mobile area was ecstatic with, what would have been the creation of more than 300 high-paying jobs from EADS, not to mention all of the residual business that would have resulted, with an overall impact in excess of 1000 new positions for the region. As a former Boeing ME, and not much of an Airbus fan, I was partial to them winning the contract. However my position was changed once I and my friends (also former Boeing employees) reviewed the comparison of the specs for these aircraft - the 330 was easily the best platform for this mission. Still, I hoped that they would split the award, with a 50/50 purchase; it worked fine having both KC-10's and KC-135's in the fleet, so it seemed like a good 'Solomon-esque' decision... lol

Seeing what the Mobile area was going through during that time, it was obvious that they needed this to change their economic situation. Although the rest of the country was experiencing a boom, Mobile was desperately trying to get its economy off the ground. My friends there tell me that now it's much, much worse.

Not only Mobile would have gained, but South Carolina was also poised to see a large influx of work from this contract, although I was not keeping-up with that part of the proposed distribution, although the official projections from EADS were at 1500 direct hires at last count. Needless to say, the overall impact to that part of the country would have been enormous and could have stemmed a great deal of the recession's effect to those two regions.

Boeing's projections were merely to use existing manufacturing lines (we now know they were mostly in Japan and Italy) and integrate the program into the 767 production - no measurable growth in US positions.

My position on the program became cemented in opposition to my previous employer, the people of Mobile deserved this and the 330 was the right choice for a good many reasons.


Boeing workers 'protesting'

It All Gets Nasty...!

I remember when Congress got involved, they cited the fact that it was "sending American jobs overseas" and that had to be stopped.

A parade of US Congressmen ranted and raved about the 'flawed awarding process' on the talk shows and television crews filmed staged protest rallies of US aerospace workers - btw, who were paid by Boeing to do so during their normal working hours. Some cheap publicity orchestrated by Boeing to create a backlash to the Pentagon's decision.

... and it worked - the White House stepped-in and postponed the award citing the need to 'review' the process.

To read Mr. Hernández's account of Boeing's current contract distribution for the 767, it sickens me to my core, although it doesn't surprise me either.

While at Boeing, I watched our management take entire divisions of what was once a massive McDonnell Douglas facility's machining equipment and sell it off in large crates directly to China, simultaneously laying-off an army of 20+ year machinists with the intent to "contract that work out" in the future. Meanwhile those highly-skilled men hit the bricks looking for work and management all received bonuses for 'improving shareholder value'.

I also watched them send large sections of our composite production overseas, and along with it, the technological capability. The company it was sent to is now an industry leader and a direct competitor to Boeing, which was 'unthinkable' at the time but a predictable result for all all of us who were not part of that decision process.

While I was working out of Florida on another Boeing contract, the company was caught actually bribing a Pentagon official, Darleen Druyen with a juicy position offered to her in exchange for a favorable decision in contract awarding. Mike Sears, the Boeing CFO that hired Druyun, was sentenced to four months for aiding and abetting an illegal employment negotiation. She served 9-month in Federal prison. The s**t really hit the fan after that one, I remember!

Still Serving With Distinction

And meanwhile, the current fleet of USAF tankers, continue to fly countless sorties, participating in operations all over the globe, serving a vital role for our nation's military. However, with all of these aircraft having been built more than 40 years ago, everyone knows that the clock is running-out very quickly for them. The decision to award this contract must be made very soon, as delivery will require time to ramp-up. While big business plays games with politics, the military suffers the consequences.

Unfortunately, at the confluence of short-sighted businesses, large contracts and government, you will often find deep corruption, bad decisions and terrible lies to cover them up. This whole episode serves as a classic example.

A More 'Galactic' View of Economic Downturns...

2010-11-10T15:02:00.001-06:00

Not certain who did this (difficult to read), but thank you!

hope this finds you all in good spirits.

This Guy Walked Away With Only a Few Scratches...!

2010-11-04T20:24:00.004-06:00

N151G on display at the Arlington air show in front of the RFA tent

The 'Dead Stick' - Dangerous Enough Without Strong Winds

This is from an email that I received from my friend David, it shows "a fascinating day" of flying, as it is said. The pilot experienced one of the most dangerous emergencies that we train for, an engine-out approach. As you read the story below, notice that he realized he was losing power so he grabbed as much altitude as he could before the engine stopped. In flying we have a saying, "Altitude is your friend", as it allows you more time, and thus more distance, should you need it in an engine-out situation. The most important thing that you must keep in mind in a dead-stick approach - you only have ONE chance to do it correctly.

I belong to a group of aircraft aficionados who specialize in building and flying replicas of classic military 'warbirds'. They are called the Replica Fighters Association (RFA for short) and this particular story caught my eye. In the RFA, the P-51 is a very popular aircraft to build as it's a highly agile machine, but it is also quite pricey. We would see them at the RFA gatherings on a regular basis and with the various kits available, they increase in number each year.

This particular one, called a 'Thunder Mustang' was built with a V-12, so it was also really powerful, but it also makes it more heavy - he didn't have much time to bring it in. The presence of strong winds made his situation more dicey and looks to be the reason for the aircraft's loss. We all are happy that the pilot was not included in that description.

a view of the aircraft's engine and forward airframe

Keep in mind, the pilot was obviously highly skilled, but in my opinion was also lucky in several ways:

First, the aircraft was designed and built with a weak-enough airframe to separate cleanly rather than only fold onto itself (i.e. the pilot)

Second, it was an incredible amount of energy, however the aircraft impacted in such a way that the fuselage was able to separate in this manner

Finally, the Crash Trucks showed up very, very quickly. He landed with a nearly-full bad of fuel; had it ignited he would have experienced, and probably died, in a pilot's worst nightmare.

(from the Reno News site - MyNews4)

Officials say mechanical difficulties and high winds were to blame for plane crash Sunday at the National Championship Air Races at the Reno Stead Airport.

The Thunder Mustang piloted by George Giboney went down during the final lap of the Super Sport Gold championship race, according to a publicist for the event.

Giboney says he heard his plane -"Rapid Travel"- misfire a couple of times, and then the engine cut out and stopped completely. He called a "mayday," and when he attempted to land he hit the runway and bounced. That's when a wind gust took the plane off course and into the dirt, the plane then hit a bump and shot up into the air. The plane began to cartwheel and the plane came almost completely apart as it tumbled.

Giboney got out of the plane without help and, was attended to by onsite emergency personnel, that examined him at the Reno Air Race medical facility. He was released shortly thereafter. He suffered cuts on his arms and legs.

"Our pilots are the best in the world and are trained to handle all matters of conditions and situations," said Mike Houghton, president and CEO of the National Championship Air Races. "George did an incredible job landing and maintaining control of the plane throughout the accident. We are relieved that he is safe and uninjured and proud of the level of skill and professionalism he displayed today.

"The safety of our pilots, fans and volunteers is our number one priority and while incidents like today are uncommon, they reinforce the effectiveness of the countless safety measures we have implemented. Today was a testament to the skill of the pilot, durability of the plane and the immediate responsiveness of our staff and emergency personnel."

There were several mishaps this year, requiring emergency landings, and most of them were relatively uneventful. However, the last one was heart-stopping. Thankfully (and amazingly) the pilot came out of it without any serious injuries. Here, from a variety of sources are some photos. Since they are from a variety of sources, they are not in exact sequential order.

First, this Thunder Mustang had its engine stop. A Thunder Mustang is a custom-built replica of the P-51 and is about 2/3 the size of the real deal. This one had a V-12 engine, and was no slouch in the speed department. It was built entirely of carbon fiber. We knew that this pilot was in trouble when he attempted a landing on the original runway in lieu of two emergency strips.

The plane touched down short of a complete turn onto the intended runway and hit the short taxiway between the two runways, heading straight for a group of planes parked on another taxiway and including Canada's Snowbirds.

He hit a high spot on the grass, and the extreme crosswind (right to left) brought him airborne again and caused a cartwheel.

The right wing tip touched the ground, starting the cartwheel.

Note below the apparent fuel escaping from the left wing tank.

Below the engine and cowling break off as the cartwheel continues.

From other unknown sources, here are some additional photos of the mishap.

Notice the pilot in the below shot. He's now in the very front of the plane with nothing in front of him but his seatbelt (you can see his shoes).

The crash trucks got to the wreckage almost before the dust settled.

From the website Aviation Safety Network:

Date:	19-SEP-2010
Time:	ca 16:00
Type:	Papa 51 Thunder Mustang
Operator:	(George Giboney)
Registration:	N151G
C/n / msn:	FITM024
Fatalities:	Fatalities: 0 / Occupants: 1
Other fatalities:	0
Airplane damage:	Written off (damaged beyond repair)
Location:	Reno, NV - United States of America
Phase:	Landing
Nature:
Departure airport:
Destination airport:	Reno, NV

Narrative:
Crashed on landing during Reno Air Races.
Aircraft had just departed, pilot described, "Sonething broke in the engine", he immediately climbed to 2000 feet, engine quit, he dead sticked the aircraft, bounced, hit a wing, and cartwheeled.

Pilot was uninjured and his biggest complaint - he lost his glasses!!

the aviation-safety.net page on this incident

It is said that a good landing is one that the pilot walks away from, a great one is where the plane is also reusable again. Bravo Zulu Mr. Giboney - a good landing!

Bicentenial Week in Mexico's 'Cradle of Independence' - September 16th, 2010

2010-10-28T19:58:00.012-05:00

Independence Day

I really wanted to see some of the other historically significant cities in that region, ones that my schedule did not permit earlier. For the evening of the 15th, the giving of the Grito at 11pm was probably the high point of one's experience for the 2010 celebration. Unbeknown at the time by and luckily for me, that was not the only one and much more was yet to come. I had to serendipitously stumble upon the rest of the fun and it proved a wonderful trip. First on my list was Delores Hidalgo, so-named for its famous one-time resident who began in 1810 what was being celebrated that day.

(should this be an unfamiliar story, you can see this blog's previous entry for the history of Hidalgo).

On Google Maps, it is labeled as:
Delores Hidalgo
Cuna de La Independencia National
(National Birthplace, or literally Cradle, of Independence).

From Queretaro, it is now a relatively easy trip due to the just-completed renovation of the road between Highway 57 and San Miguel; what once was a twisting narrow old road is now a widened and straightened tarmac equipped with shoulders for passing. The improved route shaved the time from nearly an hour (with traffic) to just around 20 minutes or so, and since I had passengers this time I wanted speed it up. On my part, the much improved mood due to the lowered stress of not having to follow a chicken truck for most of that time was priceless!

To get to Delores Hidalgo from Santiago de Queretaro, the total trip took us, from what I remember, an hour and 15 minutes traveling at around noon in the light traffic of a national holiday. To get there one passes through San Miguel de Allende, however its downtown can be avoided due to the bypass that was constructed some years ago, improving one's time further. We arrived there at about 1pm, in my estimate, and that was perfect to see the day's festivities there and pay homage to the town's most famous resident.

With the significance of that day, the place that hosted the birth of Mexico was as expected a bustling hub of activity, with the town square its epicenter. As with most towns and cities, and Mexico is no exception, the town square is its the beating heart. However, with Delores, the town square is also home of the famous Iglesia (church) where the humble Priest was said to have delivered his famous cry for independence that ignited the revolution of 1810, so this place was one that I, and all who could make the journey, wanted to see.

A Whole Lotta Sewing Machines....!

On the outside of the town the nation of Mexico saw fit to erect a fitting tribute to its historical significance - a 500 foot tall flagpole with a Mexican flag (literally) the size of a football pitch billowing from it. Anyone who has been to the main border towns of Mexico will see one of similar proportions on their side of the border, a 'show of force' so-to-speak, to remind we gringos of the pride that runs deep in the Mexican heart.

As one approaches the town, the flag is the dominant feature of the somewhat flat landscape. I believe we saw it at about the five mile mark outside of town, and it provided a nice orientation as we traveled. Once you arrive, the park is actually a bit misleading in it's presentation - by that, I mean that parking is not allowed directly in front of the main area, but rather on the sides. The park is actually a small military installation 'guarded' by the local reservists who have a small barracks in the center of it; if you try to park on their area, they tend to get a bit testy, lol. Since it's not a huge draw, the five spaces provided to east prove to be plenty. A nice sidewalk promenade allows one to venture to the base of the flagpole, where the scale of the whole monument is soon realized! Standing underneath it, one can hear the massive amount of fabric making a gentle rumble, which is quite impressive - probably reminiscent of the sound made by the massive sails of the schooners of the late 18th century.

The children at the base of the flag give an idea of its scale

Ground Zero of September, 1810

After 'rallying around the flag' we proceeded into town, where the festivities were centered. The traffic was certainly heavier than the first time I visited the area several months ago, but was lighter than I expected. After snaking our way through the narrow streets we found parking at an estacionarse publico (public parking) for about 15 pesos per hour (a little more than 1 USD) and made our way on foot two blocks to the town square.

With very few exceptions in my experience, every town in Mexico and the rest of Latin America, the town center contains at least one 'green space' called the Jardin (garden), and it is where the people gather to relax and enjoy both the trees and the pleasant company of their fellow townsfolk. It is the place to go to buy a newspaper read it while getting a shoe shine, and then relax on a park bench and chat with your companion(s) or just listen to the birds. It stands in stark contrast to the US where to stroll anywhere and taking time to just sit and relax outside is something quite rare in that lifestyle. Obviously I need not delve into the difference in blood pressure rates or heart disease morality, but it does serve as a lesson as to where and how people should consider spending at least part of their day and what role quality of life plays in that consideration.

locals and tourisas watching a musical act in front of the Iglesia de Hidalgo

The Jardin was abuzz with vendors everywhere selling everything from jewelry to snacks and the item Delores is famous for - Ice Cream! Called helado in Spanish, the Ice cream vendors of Delores Hidalgo have created not just a delicious treat that people travel great distances to sample, but also many flavors that range from an amazing natural strawberry all the way to tequila - it's a surprisingly good and usually one of the first that runs out. A final word on the subject, if you have never tried naturally flavored vanilla ice cream, definitely put that on your Bucket List!

The center of the Jardin has a towering statue dedicated to the the humble priest the town was co-named in his honor. From the southwest, (looking NE), the statue of Hidalgo is given an elegant backdrop of the church that he made the famous cry for independence, as the legend maintains. It's an inspiring site, even with knowledge of his fate just a mere nine months later.Eating my ice cream and browsing the wares displayed by the vendors, even this far-removed I still could not escape visions of what that day may have been like and the emotional crossroads he and his followers must have reached to embark on their violent revolutionary march. The rest is written in blood in the history of this country.

the clock in front of the Iglesia de Hidalgo

At the base of the church stands one of the large clocks that countdown to 11pm, September 15th. You may have noticed one similar to it was located in the Jardin in Queretaro also.The government placed them in several cities, especially in historically significant areas, Delores Hidalgo certainly topping that list. The clocks now all read 00 dias 00 horas 00 minutos, as the hour of the bicentennial has come and gone, leaving a patriotic warm feeling in the populace and rhapsodic memories of el Grito and the celebrations that followed.

Following Hidalgo's March into History
After sight-seeing in Delores for a couple of hours, admittedly all in the downtown area as this is where (to me) the most interesting parts of town, we piled into the old Land Rover and headed back to San Miguel. Again, the roads are very good along this route so it took about 45 minutes to get to the outskirts, and taking a less-traveled direction allowed us into the downtown much quicker than the heavily traveled thoroughfares. And No, I will NOT disclose my secret here, as I'm going to need that one for a few more months.. maybe if you all ask nicely I'll consider just before my time here is ending - it's mine, mine mine! lol.

Actually, all of the locals know about it and probably a trove of other ones, alas so my 'secret' is only a gringo one....

On our way to Delores earlier that day, we passed a large pack of riders on horseback, traveling the path of the march that Hidalgo's first assembled 'forces' traveled on their way to take San Miguel. It was the first of many cities to be conquered by Hidalgo's army, and while the majority of them were native peasants on foot, he did have a cavalry also and these re-enactors of this march were dressed in various costumes including period Vaqueros (cowboys) and others in the Spanish Military Blue and White.

By car it's a fast trip, but for these guys, it took the better part of the day. We met-up with them later downtown San Miquel where they were the star attraction - apparently it was an annual tradition that was much anticipated this year.

Ending It All With a Bang - Literally!
Parking was much more difficult here, as it has proved every weekend but especially on this day, being a National Holiday in the city that lays claim and also bears the name of another hero of the revolution of 1810. Ignacio Allende, as I discussed in a previous post, was the counterpart to Hidalgo, and his home is a prominent feature of the town's Jardin, making the celebration here even more poignant.

La Casa de Allende (notice the Starbucks Coffee located immediately to its right)

However, I didn't realize that the celebration here was not only on the evening of the 15th, but also the that evening; what I thought was the remnants of the previous evening's display were actually the infrastructure of the planned fireworks that night. In front of the Parrochia stood an elaborate framework that had been rigged with a huge compliment of colored flares, roman candles, etc, etc, etc. As our group exited Mama Mia's restaurant, we walked immediately into the teeth of and incredible fireworks display - what a show!

After what turned out to be the first half of the show, the second 'barrage' began, of which I was able catch it on video, seen here in two parts. It was climatic end to what had been an already beautiful week:

Bicentenario Celebration in San Miguel de Allende - part I

Bicentenario Celebration in San Miguel de Allende - part II

I think my ears rang the entire trip back to Queretaro, but it was worth it!
f

Bicentenial Week in Mexico's 'Cradle of Independence' - Cont'd

2010-09-21T20:29:00.018-05:00

This week has proved to be one of the best yet during my stay, (and there have been so, so many!!), however it didn't start out that way...

During the whole week here in Queretaro, every day has hosted a major parade that has literally enveloped the entirety of the downtown sector, with various themes such as the indigenous tribes holding various gatherings and marching (more like dancing...) through the streets.Unfortunately, I didn't get which ones were parading, but there were several and they as proud of the Bicentenario as any other population was and they were definitely showing that pride in force!

On Monday last, as usual, the Mojo Katz were scheduled to play at Harry's Queretaro, which was basically located at 'ground zero' of the festivities, as the parades tend to completely encircle both the Plaza Constitucion and the Jardin de la Corregidora, with no real break in the processions until the police sweep them from the streets at 8pm. I was traveling with my good friend Oscar that day, and the traffic was like nothing either of us had ever seen. Usually, we are able to stop the car at the Plaza and unload all of the amplifiers, guitars and gear basically right in front of Harry's, where the rest of the Mojo Katz assist in the transport to the stage, Today was a much different story - Unable to even move in traffic, let alone find a place to park, Oscar pointed me in an alternate direction and we skirted the vast majority of the crush of vehicles trying to make their way to the festivities. Thanks to Oscar, we were able to not only get within proximity of the gig, we even found parking! The down-side of this was that we were still a good two miles away from Harry's, not to mention we still had a Land Rover's cargo of musical equipment to carry by hand to the show - shit, this would officially suck!

The Death March

(or something that approached it...!)

As Oscar and I figured out various ways to hand-carry two good-sized amplifiers, two amp stands, a bass gig bag, his backpack, a mic set and cords, and a laptop case, it began to dawn on us that the task ahead was going to officially 'suck'. Please understand, Oscar is probably half my size, but luckily for me he's at least as strong, and probably stronger. We traded our gear in various configurations, with the amps being the worst of the deal as they just had a lousy handle to grasp. At the one-mile mark, with my hands, feet, knees and generally my sanity beginning to give way, Oscar showed his mettle when he took both amps from me along with the laptop and in essence, give me a nice break for at least a quarter mile! He was a real trooper and had he not been with me, the Mojo Katz probably would have missed that show. (thanks again bro!)

As we approached the north end of the Jardin, we saw that the parades had indeed completely overtaken all of Centro and the native tribes were dancing up a storm, with the 4-6 foot long pheasant feathers from their headdresses rising high above the crowds - it was an awe-inspiring sight! We rounded the edge of the throngs gathered and as we passed in front of Iglesia de San Francisco, a large church that dominates the Jardin's skyline, Oscar informed me that we were better to give up trying to cross the packed street over to the Gran Hotel, where our gig was that evening. He advised me that to attempt a crossing will end very bad for the both of us, as we would be interrupting a sacred ritual; his words were "a lot of angry old ladies", but I got what he meant - bad friggin idea!

We were scheduled to begin setting-up at 6, it was already 7 so there was no way on earth I could wait that long... the gods of the Blues, hearing our desperate pleas, were shining on us that afternoon. They had apparently struck a bargain with the much older gods that these people revered.

Almost like it must have appeared to the Jews fleeing Pharaoh the parade somehow separated with one group pulling far away from another, just like an ocean parting and revealing a path for us to cross. With little ceremony (and several 'colorful' phases), Oscar and I ran across the road, nearly killing a few people with our amps who were hesitant to give way. Luckily nobody lost any fingers or toes, and my good friend and I did a half victory dance-half collapsing on the floor of Harry's as we celebrated the end of the long, difficult struggle.

The gig went much better as we knew that we had suffered for and very much earned it that day.

For those who have been requesting it, we hired a video production company and recorded the entire show; hopefully at least a few of the songs will be good enough to post - stay tuned!

Wednesday Evening's Festivities - the 15th of September, 2010

Mexico's Bicentennial Celebration in Queretaro, Mexico

That afternoon, as I left the north end (behind schedule, as usual, lol) I headed back into town with much trepidation; from the experience of the previous four days I expected the entirety of the city to be awash in vehicles searching for parking within (at least?) 5 miles of the Centro Historico and a massive tangle of 'taxi-buses' and cabs all piled into a massive cluster-f**k that would be my usual route. What I found, however, was a jaw-dropping surprise.

As I made my way south and entered the exit for the Bernardo Quintana Parkway, the lane was almost clear! I thought that I just had not caught the bulk of the Holiday traffic and very soon would be within its teeth, but this was never to pass. With my mouth agape I'm sure, I exited at Los Arcos (the road which follows the aqueduct, the city's principal historic symbol) I found the road sparsely driven and even found a great spot across from the Starbucks. I was completely astounded, and perhaps just a wee bit flabbergasted too. lol

Speaking wit my friends afterward, many of them chose to stay indoors or go to private parties, with all of the news of late about threats from the 'bad elements', therefore that may account for the surprising lack of traffic that early evening. Afterward, I made my way to Centro, as it is referred, I found parking in a local parking garage, which was already full but had some creative solutions to fitting yet more vehicles there, which included leaving one's keys with the attendant. Be advised, when you do this, you are obviously placing this person in a position of deep trust as for everyone, one's vehicle is their most valuable asset and in Mexico and is often paid for with something akin to a mortgage as it involves a much higher percentage of an average person's income - should one be lucky enough to be able to even afford such a luxury. This fact is not lost by the attendants and they take it very seriously - your vehicle is left in good hands.

"Viva Mexico, Cabrones!"

As usual, we made our way to and met more of my friends at Harry's. Since I spend a great deal of time there anyway, it only seemed fitting to be there for El Grito. As we sat in the restaurant, having a great dinner with even better company, the Plaza Constitucion filled with more and more people, until it had grown to a full-scale throng. This was much closer to what I had pictured in envisioning the scene at 11 pm in Queretaro.

From our beautiful table in Harry's outside dining area, looking over the multitude gathered I felt a deep connection with the people who are my hosts during my stay here. Families, young and old, city dwellers and country folk alike, all were joined together in this most historical place for probably the most most historically significant moments of their lives and revel in its magic.

At 11, the bells of Iglesia San Francisco tolled and before it had finished, we heard the 'giving of the Grito' (see previous post for an explanation), and the entire plaza in front of us responded "VIVA" with each hail from a then unseen caller. Traditionally, the caller is the governor of the state who stands on the terraza of the Palacio de Governo located in the Plaza de Armos, about a block away from where we we sitting. It was relatively easy to hear the Grito being called (even with me being so bloody deaf! lol), but the crowd all giving a resounding "Viva" was a force of nature impossible to ignore. A beautiful moment for the entirety of Mexico, allowing a much-tested population a respite from all of it's political, social, economic and violent struggles that transcended into a unified pride in their country, and especially, their heritage.

... and I was especially proud for them, my good friends that I have grown to cherish.

Here's El Grito from the Zocalo given by Philipe Calderone, the President of Mexico, as it was broadcast on CNN Espanol, along with the huge fireworks display that was to follow:

Grito De Independencia De México En El Zócalo 2010 (Bicentenario 1810-2010)

What I did not realize, was that we also seated at 'ground zero' for the Queretaro fireworks display to immediately follow. Over the past year, among other things Mexico particularly favors in its festivities is the ample use of fireworks. That evening was to be no disappointment as the continuous display lasted easily a solid fifteen minutes. It was great!

After the show, we (somehow) made our way over to the other side of the area, the Jardin de la Corregidora, which was just a sea of humanity that I had never witnessed before that evening.

My tranquil little park, where I walk through on my way home from Harry's, had been transformed into a gigantic party with literally tens of thousands who had gathered there to watch one of the famous clocks counting down toward zero, which was followed by the Grito.

A jocular mayhem ensued as the massive crowd moved through the Plaza and notably was both exuberant yet cordial to those not as physically capable. I watched as teenagers and larger twenty-something men, mindful of others, paid very close attention not to push or disturb those around them who may have been less physically adept.

A most impressive and considerate act, considering just how utterly crowded the Jardin was and indicative of the Cultura de Mexicana as a whole, Here they just think of it as a good upbringing, which is the norm.

I Went Down to the Crossroads...!

Making our way northward down Corregidora, as the crowds began to abate, we found out way to another favorite place of mine, La Encrucijada, (the Crossroads) - the best place to see live rock performed by some of the best musicians in Mexico! Admittedly a biased opinion as the guitarist there is Johnny, who is also a member of the Mojo Katz Blues Band! lol

Tonight was a special evening there, in many respects, and they had scheduled a one-time only Wednesday show that featured an entire evening of Rocka en Espanol in honor of the holiday. Although my familiarity with this brand of music is quite limited and I understand very little of the lyrics, I still enjoyed myself thoroughly. It was a treat to watch this amazing band play music that they had grown-up with, playing with such ferocity and the people of the audience not singing, but rather screaming along with what is being sung by the vocalists Pablo and Perla, (who btw is also a guest Mojo Kat on occasion..!).

An amazing performance to witness and I was proud and quite humbled to have been invited to attend.

This is a truly magical place, this Mexico.

Bicentenial Week in Mexico's 'Cradle of Independence'

2010-09-15T17:57:00.006-05:00

My Current Home, This Region of Mexico, is Where It All Started

When I first arrived here in Queretaro, back so many months ago, I took a tour of the city with a guide, just to learn more about it and it's history. She was a college student who spoke some English, at least to communicate the basic ideas, however I found out quickly that she did not really have an in-depth knowledge, but rather a cursory one. As we traveled around the city and I paid both her and her driver (separately) and asked questions about the landmarks she was describing, the usual answer was "not certain". At the end of the tour, she basically asked for 'propina' (a tip), which I paid, however felt a bit taken in the experience, as I had so many questions yet about this new city and its rich past. I spent the next year discovering the answers to them and much more - it was a good year.

When I arrived, my history of Mexico was not very well-informed, with far more of it focused on it's pre-Spanish period. I could talk your ear off about the Mayans, but had no real command of the significant figures of the revolution like Allende, Hidalgo and Maximilian were. Looking back on my education, which was quite decent, for a country right on our border, it's surprising how little of this was taught, but rather the Spanish Colonial Period, the Mexican-American War(s), the campaign against Pancho Villa and the Zimmerman Telegram. That was my formal education of Mexico in a nutshell. Yeah embarrassing, but I'll wager yours wasn't much more, even if you were raised on a border state. That's common amongst most countries - they focus on nationalistic pride first and then if there's enough time, make the students at least a little literate about the world beyond their borders. The US is probably one the worst offenders, lol.

The Bicentennial or 'Bicentenario' actually takes in two celebrations: the first being the Bicentennial of two hundred years since Independence (1810) and the second the no less important Centennial of 100 years since Mexican Revolution of 1910.

A (very) Brief History of Time - The Mexican Revolution of 1810:

Okay, this is a broad subject and I make no claims to be an expert, but if you want the basics so when a famous event or person is referenced, strap yourself into the cockpit and hold on - this will be taught at mach 2! (kidding, we don't have space for anything beyond the basics, but you know that I tend to be verbose).

Since the revolution against Spain is the area that I have been studying most, I'll focus on that, but please remember that BOTH the 1810 and 1910 revolutions are what the national psyche are focused on and are being observed this September 16th.

A Humble Priest Lit a Match That Started a Firestorm

The story of Mexico's first revolution is, in essence, the story of the last year Like George Washington is often referred to as the father of his country, Miguel Hidalgo is often called the Father of Mexico. Before the dawn of September 16, 1810, Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, a beloved yet humble Catholic priest from the village of Dolores, made a monumentous decision that altered the course of Mexican history. Within hours, Hidalgo, as he is usually referred to, ordered the arrest of Dolores' native Spaniards, or 'Gachupines'. Shortly afterward he rang the church bell as he customarily did to call the native population to mass.

The message that Hidalgo gave to them was one revolution called them to retaliate against the hated Gachupines, or native Spaniards, who had exploited and oppressed Mexicans for ten generations. It was not a difficult message for him to sell, they were ready long before that day!

El Grito - The Cry of Independence of Delores

an exploration of what has become one of Mexico's highest traditions

(please bear with me..it's worth it, promise!)

The movement toward Mexican independence had actually already been in progress since Napoleon's conquest of Spain, but Hidalgo's declaration was a swift and unpremeditated decision on his part. Legend states that either from the balcony of the church or from the top of the stairs, (or as some contend, from the window of his home), he gave the passionate cry that was to be the start of the Revolution of 1810.

Some historians contend he told his followers in the chill early morning of September 16 that the gachupines were plotting the worst treason imaginable: They were conspiring to deliver the Spanish Catholic Church and the Spanish Empire into the hands of the " non-believing French", to recognize the usurper, Joseph Bonapart. This account says that the priest called on all loyal 'Americans' and Catholics to defend the cause of Ferdinand VII and throw out the traitors of America.

The (somewhat) historically agreed-upon original Grito of Delores went probably something like this:

"Viva el Rey! Viva America! Muera el mal gobierno!"

(Long live the King! Long Live America! Death to bad government!).

There is, however, little argument among historians regarding the cry Hidalgo received:

"Mueran los gachupines!"

(Death to the Spaniards!)

This was to be the most accurate battle cry of Hidalgo's six-month-long War of Independence.

This was the famous cry (referred to as 'el Grito') which triggered the long struggle for independence. This, or something like it, was what Hidalgo told the Mexicans who were the members of New Spain's lowest caste. He urged the exploited and embittered Mexicans to recover the lands that was stolen from their forefathers. That he was calling these people to revolution was a radical change from the original revolution plot devised by the Criollos, or Mexican-born Spaniards.

Another historical note: Of course, hard-minded Mexican historians suggest that the previously stated it is not quite accurate. In fact, they say no one really knows precisely what Hidalgo said that early morning of September 16. Many versions includes the following additions:

" Viva Mexico!"

(Long live Mexico!)

" Viva la Independencia!"

(Long live Independence!)

" Viva la Virgen de Guadalupe!"

(Long live the Virgin of Guadalupe!)

Certainly, Hidalgo did not shout "Viva Mexico!" simply because there was no Mexican state existing at that time. And most historians doubt that he mentioned "independence" or "liberty," for Hidalgo himself later pointed out that the natives and mestizos he addressed did not understand what those words meant. And since, by all accounts, the idea of utilizing the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe as a symbol of the independence movement did not occur to anyone until later when the insurgents were marching through the pueblo of Atoncillo, Hidalgo probably did not shout "Viva la Virgen de Guadalupe."

However, for the sake of avoiding a never-ending historical debate, the above version, including the place it was given as the church of Delores, is generally accepted but regarded to as 'legend'. In the service of nationalism, it stands as a powerful touchstone to Mexico's long struggle to sever its colonial oppressors and a source of deep pride to its citizens.

As I am writing this, the current president of Mexico is said to be in Delores Hidalgo, and will celebrate the nation's Bicentennial by giving the Grito from the steps (or balcony?) of the church. My friends describe the city and the surrounding area like a military zone that has been completely sealed-off by Mexican special forces and to enter it required a special identification (i.e. no gringo tourists for this one, it's a very special event!)

What Historians Believe About the Actual Event of the 'Giving of the Grito'

When Hidalgo spoke publicly that morning (September 16) he did not address a multitude. Dolores was not a large pueblo. More probably, he roused his household, those peons who worked for him and his close friends in town. They, in turn, awakened others. The jail was opened, its prisoners released and the Spaniards of Dolores locked up.

By this time daylight was approaching, and the cura of Dolores ordered the church bells rung, hoping that would hurry Sunday churchgoers from the countryside to an early assembly. Perhaps at the gathering that followed 'the Grito' was given.

This, of course, does not take away anything from the weight of what Hidalgo had done and committed the course of the nine months - what were to become the rest of his life.

The Grito in Modern Mexico

The Grito is repeated every year, most notably in Mexico City by the President of Mexico from the balcony of the National Place, and it is echoed by the governor of each state throughout the country, all from historically prominent locations. Here in city of Queretaro, it is given by the Governor of the state of Queretaro, from the balcony of the 'Palacio de Gobierno' (government palace), which was once the actual seat of colonial rule while still under the Spaniards. After one hundred years, however, time, good manners, and the secularization had transformed the ritual from the call for a holy war, to a peaceful, patriotic affirmation:

(translated...)

"Long live Mexico!

Long live Our Lady of Guadalupe!

Long live the Americas (sometimes included)

and death to the corrupt government!

Long live Hidalgo!

(... and several other historical figures)

Long live the heroes of Independence!"

Notably the bell of the parish of Dolores was eventually brought to Mexico City by order of President Porfirio Diaz and placed above the central balcony of the National Palace, establishing the tradition which has been solemnly followed every year thereafter. Every September 15th, al 11:00 p.m., the President, following the ritual, rings the historic bell and "gives the Grito" to the throngs gathered in the 'Zócalo' (as it's known today - its formal name is Plaza de la Constitución). The Cry may include other acclamations, but that is how it generally is done.

Zócalo, which literally translates as "base" or "plinth"

On a jocular note: most of my friends use the expression "Viva Mexico Cabrones!", which is a popular modern addition, that basically translates to 'Long live Mexico you assholes' - a fun way to defiantly salute Mexico to the rest of the world, especially those who would disparage it.

okay, enough with the Grito stuff...I think we have it!

lol

The Rise of Miguel Hidalgo

Mexico's first stamp

Groups of Criollos across Mexico had been plotting to overthrow the authority of Gachupines who, because of their Spanish birth, had legal and social priority over the Mexican born Criollos. When Joseph Bonaparte replaced King Ferdinand as the leader of Spain, the Criollos recognized a prime opportunity for Mexican sovereignity. The nucleus of this movement was a group of intellectuals in Queretaro led by the Corregidor of Queretaro (state official), his wife Josepha Ortiz de Dominguez, and a group of army officers including Ignacio Allende. Another historical note: Josepha Ortiz de Dominguez is referred to and memorialized in modern day Queretaro as 'la Corregidora'.

Originally, the Criollos plan for revolution did not focus on harnessing Mexicans but rather, they preferred to avoid actual military confrontation by recruiting other Criollo army officers to cut their allegiance to the Gachupines. By claiming loyalty to the defeated King Ferdinand, the Criollos aimed to establish Mexico as an independent nation within King Ferdinand's Spanish empire. If they could accomplish this, the Gachupines who claimed authority under Bonaparte's rule would be forced to flee, what was to no longer be called "New Spain' and become 'Mexico'.

Hidalgo had close ties with this group. Approaching sixty years of age, Hidalgo was beloved and greatly respected by Mexicans. Once the dean of the College of San Nicolas at Valladolid in Michoacan (now Morelia), Hidalgo was a well-educated, courageous humanitarian. He was sympathetic to the native Mexicans, which was unusual amongst Mexican clergymen. Against Gachupin law, Hidalgo taught the natives of his parish to plant olives, mulberries and grapevines and to manufacture pottery and leather.

Again, at this time Mexico was known officially as "La Nueva España," (New Spain) the most important Spanish colony in the New World. Its supreme ruler was King Ferdinand VII of Spain, whose representative in Mexico was the "Virrey" (Viceroy). Hidalgo's actions irritated the Spanish viceroy who, as a punitive measure, cut down Hidalgo's trees and vines he had planted to help the native Mexicans.

Forced Into the Decision of Both His Life, and a Nation

Gachupines were alerted to the Criollos independence movement by Criollo officers who had refused to join the revolutionary movement, and by a priest who had learned of the plot through a confessional. Hidalgo was among the central figures targeted for arrest on September 13, 1810. The Queretaro Corregidor's wife, Josepha Ortiz de Dominguez, informed the Criollos of the Gachupines plan. Allende immediately departed from Quertaro to inform Hidalgo.

According to an alternate version of this story, it was two officers, Allende and Juan de Aldama, who raced through the night to warn Hidalgo to hide. Others say Aldama alone carried the warning from San Miguel to Dolores, reminiscent of Paul Revere's midnight ride to Lexington which occurred 35 years before and more-so, in that Paul was believed to have been joined by a young Doctor named William Prescott.

Okay, however they got there, Allende and Aldama seem both to have been with Hidalgo in Dolores the night of September 15 (and/or 16). Ironically, the two officers, trained military professionals, planned to go into hiding. Hidalgo, with no military experience, decided to go to war.

One chronicle of the event describes Hidalgo telling Allende that the only thing to do now was to go "hunting gachupines." Aldama's portrayal of the event says that the 57 year-old, balding, gray-haired priest quickly declared, "Caballeros, we are lost. There is no alternative but to go after the gachupines." Either way, Aldama apparently thought this was a "hasty" decision.

Allende arrived in Dolores in the early morning hours of September 16. His message forced Hidalgo to make the most signficant decision of his life, a decision which marked the first struggle for Mexican independence and that would distinguish Hidalgo as the national hero of the revolution. The Criollos had not gained enough military alliance to forfeit the Gachupines rule, as the plot had leaked three months before the Criollos target date of December 8.

Hidalgo had three possible options. He could await arrest, flee Dolores or call on the native Mexican and Mestizo forces. His decision to call the exploited groups to revolution completely changed the character of the revolution, and the movement became a bloody class struggle instead of a shrewd political maneuver.

Hidalgo's Campaign - The Revolution Erupts in Central Mexico

When Hidalgo called the native Mexicans to action, he tapped into powerful forces that had been simmering for over three hundred years. With clubs, slings, axes, knives, machetes and intense hatred, the natives took on the challenge of the Spanish artillery. Hidalgo and Allende left Dolores with about 800 men, half of whom were on horseback

San Miguel and Celaya were captured with little resistance. On 21 September 1810, Hidalgo was proclaimed general and supreme commander after arriving to Celaya. At this point, Hidalgo’s army numbered about 50,000. However, because of the lack of military discipline, the insurgents soon fell into robbing, looting and ransacking the towns they were capturing. They began to execute prisoners as well. This caused friction between Allende and Hidalgo that would eventually lead to their separation and likely, each other's downfall

The Banner of Hidalgo

When the native Mexican and mestizo forces, led by Hidalgo and Allende, reached the next village en route to Mexico city, they acquired a picture of the Virgin of Guadalupe, the patron saint whose image was of a woman of color. The Virgin of Guadalupe, who was indigenous to Mexico, became the banner of the revolutionary forces as Hidalgo and Allende led the path toward Mexico City and the expulsion of the Gachupines. One will notice that this image is often displayed by Mexicanos in various forms, from religious alters to car window decals; it holds significance not only in it's religious connotation, but especially in it's historical role in Mexico's fight for independence. It should be added that at this point, he then inscribed the following slogans to his troops’ flags: “Long live religion! Long live our most Holy Mother of Guadalupe! Long live Ferdinand VII! Long live America and death to bad government!” Perhaps this is how it was added into the Grito Legend...?

From Guanajuato, Hidalgo set off for Valladolid on 10 October 1810 with 15,000 men and his forces took the city with little opposition. Here, Hidalgo issued proclamations against the peninsulares whom he accused of arrogance and despotism, as well as enslaving those in the Americas for almost 300 years.

His first defeat and the Beginning of the End

The military forces loyal to Spain, (Royalists), marched to Guadalajara, arriving in January 1811 with nearly 6,000 men.Allende and Abasolo wanted to concentrate their forces in the city and plan an escape route should they be defeated, but Hidalgo rejected this. Their second choice then was to make a stand at the Calderon Bridge (Puente de Calderon) just outside the city. Hidalgo had between 80,000 and 100,000 men and 95 cannons, but the better trained royalists decisively defeated the insurgent army, forcing Hidalgo to flee towards Aguascalientes^.

At Hacienda de Pabellon, on 25 January 1811, near Aguascalientes, Allende and other insurgent leaders took military command away from Hidalgo, blaming him for their defeats .Hidalgo remained as head politically but with military command going to Allende.

What was left of the insurgent Army of the Americasmoved north towards Zacatecas and Saltillo, possibly with the goal of making connections with those in the United States for support.

Hidalgo made it to Saltillo, where he publicly resigned his military post and rejected a pardon offered by General José de la Cruz in the name of Venegas in return for Hidalgo’s surrender. A short time later, they were betrayed and captured by royalist Ignacio Elizondo at the Wells of Baján(Norias de Baján) on 21 March 1811 and taken to the city of Chihuahua..

From Humble Beginnings, to Soaring Heights and a Martyr's End

The old priest was turned over to the bishop of Durango, Francisco Gabriel de Olivares, for an official defrocking firing squad on 30 July at 7 in the morning. Before his execution, he thanked his jailers, Private Soldiers Ortega and Melchor, in letters for their humane treatment. At his execution, Hidalgo placed his right hand over his heart to show the riflemen where they should aim. He also refused the use of a blindfold.

His body, along with the bodies of Allende, Aldama and José Mariano Jiménez were decapitated, and the heads were put on display on the four corners of the Alhondiga de Granaditas in Guanajuato. The heads remained there for ten years until the end of the Mexican War of Independence to serve as a warning to other insurgents.

Hidalgo’s headless body was first displayed outside the prison but then buried in the Church of St Francis in Chihuahua. Those remains would later be transferred in 1824 to Mexico City.

Yet another important historical note: Despite his ambiguity toward the violent class struggle that was the Mexican revolution, Hidalgo is still revered as the father of Mexican independence and "Father of the Nation’’ even though it was Agustin de Iturbide and not Hidalgo who achieved Mexican Independence in 1821. Shortly after gaining independence, the day to celebrate it varied between 16 September, the day of Hidalgo’s Grito and 27 September, the day Iturbide rode into Mexico City to end the war. Later, political movements would favor the more liberal Hidalgo over the conservative Iturbide, so that eventually 16 September 1810 became the officially recognized day of Mexican independence. The reason for this is that Hidalgo is considered to be “precursor and creator of the rest of the heroes of the (Mexican War of) Independence.” Hidalgo has become an icon for Mexicans who resist tyranny in the country.

After Hidalgo's cry of Dolores and his eventual execution, several years of war were to follow, and many more heroes of Mexico's independence were to follow after him.

As a testament to it's power, through the long decades of despotic Mexican rulers and political unrest, El Grito de Dolores, "Mexicanos, viva Mexico," has persevered. Every year at midnight on September 15, Mexicans led by the president of Mexico shout the Grito, honoring the crucial and impulsive action that was the catalyst for the country's bloody struggle for independence from Spain.

If you ever get a chance to see this event, 'el Grito', for yourself, you will be glad that you made the trip.

The history runs deep in this region.

The crocodile whisperer!

2010-08-25T16:09:00.005-05:00

This is a great story from my friend Bill.

I honestly think that it will make you re-think everything you once believed about reptiles, (especially the larger 'dangerous' ones), and the entire realm of "what is possible" - enjoy!

Rather than trying to tame wild stallions, fearless Costa Rican fisherman Chito prefers a playful wrestle in the water with his best pal Pocho - a deadly 17ft crocodile.

The 52-year-old daredevil draws gasps of amazement from onlookers by wading chest-deep into the water, then whistling for his 980lb buddy - and giving him an affectionate hug.

Chito made friends with the croc after finding him with a gunshot wound on the banks of the Central American state's Parismina river 20 years ago. He had been shot in the left eye by a cattle farmer and was close to death. But Chito enlisted the help of several pals to load the massive reptile into his boat.

He says: "When I found Pocho in the river he was dying, so I brought him into my house.

"He was very skinny, weighing only around 150 lb. I gave him chicken and fish and medicine for six months to help him recover.

"I stayed by Pocho's side while he was ill, sleeping next to him at night. I just wanted him to feel that somebody loved him, that not all humans are bad.

"It meant a lot of sacrifice. I had to be there every day. I love all animals - especially ones that have suffered."

It took years before Chito felt that Pocho had bonded with him enough to get closer to the animal.

He says: "After a decade I started to work with him. At first it was slow, slow. I played with him a bit, slowly doing more.

"Then I found out that when I called his name he would come over to me."

At one point during his recovery, Chito left the croc in a lake near his house.. But as he turned to walk away, to his amazement Pocho got out of the water and began to follow him home.

Chito recalls:

"That convinced me the crocodile could be tame."

But when he first fearlessly waded into the water with the giant reptile his family was so horrified they couldn't bear to watch.

So instead, he took to splashing around with Pocho when they were asleep.

Four years ago Chito showed some of his tricks to friends, including getting the animal to close his eyes on command, and they convinced him to go public with a show.

Now he swims and plays with Pocho as well as feeding him at the lake near his home in the lowland tropical town of Sarapiqui .

The odd couple has now become a major tourist attraction, with several tour operators, including Crocodile Adventures, taking visitors on touring cruises to see the pair.

On the Crocodile Adventures website it describes the spectacle as: "One of the most amazing things that no cruise ship passenger will want to miss, the adventure show between the man and the crocodile."

crocodile adventures website

thanks again Bill!

A Close Call

2010-08-11T12:33:00.003-05:00

(this one comes from my friend Terry)

Pilot Capt. Brian Bews ejects as his a CF-18 fighter jet plummets to the ground during a practice flight for an air show in Lethbridge, Alberta, Canada, on Friday, July 23, 2010.

A note on the ejection seat design:

Notice how the seat corrects its trajectory upward after deployed - this is due to built-in gyroscopes that keep it from sending the pilot into the ground.

Bravo Zulu to those engineers - a true life-saver!

Keep in mind, this is about 2 - 3 seconds duration; the ejection seat has not even hit the ground before the aircraft is completely engulfed into a massive fireball.

Video of Canadian news story from YouTube

Photo Credit: AP Photo/The Canadian Press, Lethbridge Herald, Ian Martens

As a citizen of the 'great state' of Arizona...

2010-07-05T01:31:00.011-05:00

On this Fourth of July, as I sit in a city deep in central Mexico, I wish that I were only thinking of my country and how proud I am of its many accomplishments and how it has played a significant role in the changing of world history to end tyranny, and much more. Instead, I find myself in a different frame of mind that I had hoped would have ended in January, 2008. Alas, I was wrong.

While I usually try to keep this blog light and entertaining, this instance hangs on me like piece of toilet paper stuck on the bottom of my shoe. As an Arizona resident, I am ashamed of the current direction our politics have taken. When traveling through Mexico I have to hide my AZ driver's license, which I once was proud to display. Arizona is a unique state in the union that hosts a very high percentage of Mexican heritage, which of course poses its own unique challenges also, one being immigration to and through the state facilitated by that population sympathetic to those who would be willing to make the risky journey.

Our state once was a good mix of the political spectrum, with a Democratic Governor and Republican-run legislative body for many years. However, now it has been 'hijacked' by a bunch of right-wing opportunists who use immigration fear-mongering to score political points in order to maintain power. They pose straw-man arguments about how incredibly expensive such immigrant populations are to the state, all the while ignoring the economic influx of money that they earn (and thus spend) in our state's businesses, not to mention the terrible cost of corruption perpetrated by these same political forces with the awarding of no-bid contracts for their big financial supporters, etc. For voters like me, who make up the political center and who identify ourselves as 'independents' it is a sad time in Arizona and especially for those of us who wish it, and our country as a whole, to remain the shining city on the hill, as it was once considered.

I was once proud that our state hosted a great many nationalities, especially in the university districts, and if they were injured, our hospitals would see to it that they received the best care in the world. As an AZ taxpayer, it did not bother me that a part of my taxes were being used to assist this and other costs, such as educating those in our schools who did not speak English as a first language or maybe had a sub-standard education in math or science. I was proud that I and my fellow Arizonans were willing to share our good fortune with those less advantaged and help them aspire to their dreams of creating a better life for themselves and their children. As a prosperous state and nation, it was a great source of pride that we were also a very generous one.

This dream, the one that our Statue of Liberty, given to us by another nation that was so impressed by our 'American Generosity' had inscribed the beautiful and inspiring words by Emma Lazarus:

"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door."

For those not familiar with her history, among other things she witnessed the winter of 1882, where multitudes of destitute Ashkenazy Jews emigrated from Russia to New York, where she taught technical education to help them become self-supporting.

Of course, this group of people, who arrived on our shores with nothing but the filthy clothes on their backs, became much of the backbone to the later middle and upper classes of New York, much of it due to their hard work and perseverance. This is exactly what the American Dream exemplified and the genius of our nation's idea of a 'melting pot' that gets stronger with the inclusion of those who wish to become part of our citizenry.

The racism, (yes, that what it F**KING is, that is what is always has been!), as laid-out in AZ's newest laws, currently is directed toward Mexican immigrants, was present then, directed toward the Irish, Jews, Italians, Poles, etc, etc, and probably will always exist on some levels in the future. The new argument that is being made about the high-cost of such immigrants to our social safety-net is too great and they are nothing but a burden to our country. History proves this argument completely invalid in that of the teeming masses that arrived on our shores from such far-flung parts of the world, from Viet Nam to Russia to India and everyone in between, these populations have become powerful additions to our country's economic and intellectual dominance in the world.

To be xenophobic toward another group of people who appear and behave differently than us is a trait that humans have developed over thousands of years of evolution, as it was what usually kept one's tribe safe from 'outsiders' who meant to do harm to it. In human behavior, it is a default position that we can comfortably take as, almost literally, it is part of our DNA, so-to-speak. However, looking back at the history of human societies to it's beginnings, any student of anthropology will tell you that it is the ones that cooperate are the ones that were the most successful.

Again, this is the genius of the United States of America. We as a culture welcome those from outside to join us and through that diversity, the collective wisdom, creativity, intelligence and skill of our population improves with each new generation. This is borne-out in the popularity and dominance of our universities throughout the world, which are considered the pinnacle of opportunity for aspiring students.

Our nation's new tendency to severely limit its generosity to outsiders and the appearance of hostility to those who wish to become part of our population does not bode well for its future. The last century's history that generated such good will the world over is beginning to fade in the minds of those who consider the United States to be the standard in excellence and decency. If we do not alter this course, the reputation of our country, and thus the good will directed toward its citizens who travel and interact with the rest of the world will erode away until we are considered just a remnant of a once-proud experiment in democracy and a stalwart defender what is good and decent.

Again. as I sit in a city center that teems with life and culture, where children dance in costumes that date back more than 200 years for their parents and grandparents who sit in the shade of wonderful gardens, enjoying a wonderful Sunday afternoon, and these same people offer me the warmest of invitations to join them to watch the beautiful spectacle, it makes me deeply ashamed of how we are speaking of and treating this same population up north. These kind folks, many of them knowing my home of record, who offer their deepest hospitality sharing their homes and happiest of celebrations with me, deserve much better than the disgusting rhetoric that I am hearing on both right-wing and even main-stream media. This is not the discourse of the proud nation that I and many others have served to defend. It is is but petty, self-centered, paranoid repetition of talking-points that those who would be easily swayed would repeat as programmed to do so, and it is embarrassing.

While in their country, they offer me a warm greeting and a smile, we offer to them nothing but the heel of a jackboot to their throats.

I implore my fellow citizens to consider these points and pursue a much more tolerant approach to immigration law. Please write to your congressional representatives and let them know that you are not willing to stand by and let our nation fall under the spell of fear-mongering and the politics of hatred. Tell them that you want to see Immigration Reform to streamline our system to allow those who wish to work in the US to do so easily and legally, to make a competitive wage that protects US wage earners and to pay taxes, and return home when they wish to without fear of not being able to re-enter the US due to corruption or changes in policy from political instability. The current system is terribly cumbersome, expensive, takes more than a decade to navigate, and for those who dare, only encourages a slave-like existence should they work here without documentation, many of whom die in the process.It is not sustainable and this is our chance at moving our laws in the right direction.

We have the opportunity to reverse this disturbing trend, however the window is closing soon.

Thanks and enjoy your BBQ's - remember those overseas who only have MRE's to eat.

(...and if you don't know what that means, ask someone who does, they're called combat veterans)

thanks for reading,

f

2000 Miles in One Week - part III

2010-05-27T14:13:00.016-05:00

To the Beach…!

The salt air was easy to smell as I approached the north end of Tampico, passing through the neighboring town of Altamira, looking for, what looked to be, a the beach bypass called Carretera A Puerto Industrial. I didn’t realize it but this was a harbinger of things to come as the name implied, I was in for a rude awakening - in more ways than one. Ignorantly, and thus optimistically, I roared my old Land Rover southwestwardly, looking for signs of the little city on the beach that I had imagined.

Missing the bypass route, (as usual, lol), I navigated my way through what turned out to be the cities of Altamira, Miramar and Tampico, eventually arriving at the Tampico airport, which was surprisingly non-descript. I stayed on a thoroughfare called the Tampico Mante, figuring that I was very close to the Gulf, which I could no longer smell, btw, so all I had to do was look for a sign saying ‘playa xyz’ or, Beach (whatever the name is). It works pretty well in the US so I made the assumption that Mexico would be equally proud of theirs. After all, beaches serve a community as a tourist attraction and thus often a major source of revenue. Tampico treated this natural resource a bit differently…

Persona-Non-Grata

(or is this what traveling businessmen from Nazi Germany may have felt like?)

I wish to take this opportunity to personally thank my home of record, the great state of Arizona for the incredible albatross it tied, albeit remotely, around my neck while living here in Mexico. During the entire time I picked-up any noticias (news) on the radio while heading south from Matamoros, it contained long commentaries and updates from the border state of Arizona and how it was now a pariah for the entirety of the rest of the planet, at least from their perspective.

Watching and listening to the news of the US almost constantly and traveling back and forth to Phoenix, I agree that the situation was becoming quite difficult with the border crossings, especially from the narco-trafficantes who recently are believed to have murdered an Arizona rancher who lived in the southeastern portion of the state. It was quickly afterward that the new law allowing guys like Sherriff Joe and men of his profession to, with probable cause, to verify any person’s immigration status. (i.e. if you are not white and have any kind of accent, you will be asked for “your papers” and be detained if you have none on your person – yes, I read the stupid thing…). If the police decided to do it with a German accent, that would just about round-out the entire scenario for me.

In honor of the new law in Arizona and how it has enabled Mexico, if not the entire rest of the planet to paint us as, this blog officially from this point onward, will have the theme My Favorite Nazi. (no, I couldn’t find a pic of one with antennae)

Lost in a Forest

(...of streetlights)

Bumbling along, feeling a bit like Schultz himself, I progressed through what seemed to be endless city streets that looked like much of the many other cities that I have visited here in Mexico, I finally saw small little green sign that pointed to ‘La Playa’. Following that direction for another 20 minutes, past lots of industrial facilities and not much else I began to lose hope and assumed that I had missed another turn somewhere. However, just as I was about to turn around and try another route I smelled that familiar scent – the ocean - that unmistakable combination of salt, wet sand, and just a hint of old fish.

I ended-up in an area called Playa Miramar, or literally, ‘sea view beach’, which is about a one mile stretch that parallels the ocean. I didn’t know this at the time, only that I had reached the water and life was getting better as I had that sea breeze pouring in through my windows, filling the interior of the LR with that much-missed combination of wind carrying a tiny amount of sand, which peppers the cheeks when it hits you. I was back home on the water – a nice feeling!

So driving down the beach, looking at the layout I found it a bit surprising. It was beautiful evening with a warm breeze and the entirety of the area was nearly empty. I continued my way south until I reached, also surprisingly, the end of the road, where it dead-ends into the shipping channel. Circling back, I came to the quick realization that Tampico’s coastal tourist attraction was only one mile long, and further, it really didn’t have a lot to offer someone looking for a classic ‘beach town’. I counted about 8 or so small (but overpriced) hotels, one really nice (and exorbitantly-priced) resort, a small collection of beer tiendas (shops) and on the south end was a grouping of fishing-focused tiendas, which we Americanos would probably call bait shops, along the seawall on that end.

After checking the majority of the hotels about rates and realizing I was being offered either high-priced rooms with no view of the water whatsoever, or rooms closer to the beach that were just not worth the cost for an 11 am check-out time. I think the prices ranged from $800 pesos to well over $2000, and I didn’t even bother inquiring on what a beach bungalow would have cost… a real disappointment considering the place was just dead. Then again, perhaps that was one of the reasons it was so. Playa Miramar appeared to be nothing what I had hoped, but instead, a sort-of tourist trap for locals who cannot afford to travel to better locations in Mexico like Veracruz, Cancun, or Puerto Vallarta.

Undaunted, I was resolved to make the best of it and searched the nearby areas for a more palatable rate, as most Mexican hotels tend to be. As luck would have it, I found within a quarter mile of Calle Costero, the name of that mile-long beach drive, a small collection of hotels in what looked to be, an unofficial mini red light district. The image that I portray would be incorrect if one would assume it to be a high-crime area – it was not. I pulled into an Auto Hotel, which popular in many parts of Mexico as it includes a garage directly below your room, and has a garage door that serves as the front door to the entire space, thus security for your vehicle is guaranteed (your car is your first floor roommate, of sorts). Be advised, however, should one decide to stay at such a place the amenities are very sparse, with a minimum of TP provided (on a ¾ width roll no less, lol) and bath towels must be requested. The price was right at 350 pesos, (about $27 USD), but the bed was slightly more comfortable than sleeping on concrete with a blanket on top of it. I was pretty tired, so I figured that such things would be short-lived and I would be to sleep very quickly in spite of it.

Btw, there wasn't much on the television...

After settling-in, I was still wide awake and I really did want to explore the beach, which was still very close as the breeze was coming in through my window. Actually, the humidity was significant, and the ancient but still-functioning air conditioner proved to be much nicer than the open window later that evening. It occupied one of the two only outlets in the room, so I plugged-in the laptop to re-charge it a bit while I went for a walk on the beach. Putting on white slacks and a martini-themed shirt, I set off in my tackiest of tourista garb to find a beer to sip on and burrow my feet into the sand.

As I mentioned, this was something of a red light district with the usual, small number of folks meandering about and loitering in front of the storefronts, relaxing after what was probably a very warm day. As is usually the case in the majority of Mexico and contrary to the news reports in the US, I never felt that I was any sort of danger, even walking down the somewhat dimly-lit streets long after midnight. Admittedly, I have a pretty confident swagger, (so I’m told, haha), look people directly in the eye and nod when passing other fellows, and of course I don’t venture down dark alleys when I go out at night. The street vendors were busy preparing their treats of hamburgesas (burgers with a Mexican twist) and media noches (literally “midnights” which are hot dogs also made with a Mexican array of toppings – Btw, I will get to this in more detail at a later time, promise!). I made mental note to pick up a snack on my return trip from the beach.

The Venting of an Arizonian Living Abroad

(i.e. this is the part where all of my good friends who happen to lean hard to the right had probably better just skip over – unless you want my take on the subject)

I agree that there is a HUGE problem with illegal narcotics and human-trafficking efforts crossing the border, especially in AZ, however I fail to see how such a law will halt, or even remotely reduce, such conduits to the US drug market and the criminal underworld that these people occupy, as has been one of the assertions of its protractors. The bastards that killed one of my fellow Arizonians are murderous criminals and they could give a damn about our laws, especially the ones that concern their immigration status.

If confronted, this type of low life would sooner kill a police officer rather than be detained for a mere border violation, however, they tend to specialize in keeping well out of the spotlight of the everyday. They are part of a whole different spectrum of modern society that the rest of us have little or no contact with and thus cannot identify with. Further, the 'coyotes', as the human traffickers are known on the Mexican border, become more powerful with this legislation as they now will be the preferred choice amongst those who trying to cross into the US, and they will exert even greater power over immigrants, keeping them in even more desperate straits with the threat of ICE hanging over their heads. It also moves the role of the coyotes thoroughly into the realm of the professional criminal and what was previously not controlled by organized crime, now will be.

(yes, that is Ratzinger during the war - even HE can make a big mistake and realize the error of his ways)

In my opinion, the recent move by Obama to add 1200 troops to the border, while not a terrific solution long-term, is a start in addressing this situation of halting the criminals from crossing. I think it is important to point out also, that despite the (usual) trashing by Fox News as to the number being far too low, etc, etc, this was the suggestion of everyone from ultra-right commentators like Pat Buchanan and Republicans across the spectrum. Hopefully the Senate GOP gets behind the effort to help steer the process more, rather than simply attacking any new policy as 'inept' or 'ill-crafted'. Every time the guy tries to extend a hand across the aisle and do something that reflects Republican values, they automatically bite that hand, with what seems to simply be spite for wanting him to look bad in-time to regain control of the Congress at the next election. It looks pathetic and they wonder why the public has such a low opinion of Congress. It would be so much better if they would come together to solve this issue, instead of posturing against each other to try to score political points. Perhaps I'm being idealistic, but the situation is dire and the criminals crossing into the US need to be stopped and we need the GOP to help solve the problem; I hope they decide to join the team soon.

Btw, Yes, I pay my Arizona taxes and No, it does not bother me that some of it goes to pay for illegals to get health care when they need it. It is (or was) a source of pride that I lived in a country that considered itself charitable to those in need and did not freak out about their immigration status. Also, I do not agree that these people are taking away jobs from “hard-working Americans” as so many of them work the fields harvesting our food and doing so many jobs that most of us would not even consider. How many times have you heard someone complain that they cannot find a job working in the hot desert sun picking lettuce? I didn’t think so…

We need this labor force, (not to mention we especially need to bring them into the tax base), and if the two sides of the congress, with the leadership of people like McCain, who tried to do this a long time ago btw, could get their s**t together just for two minutes to streamline the work visa process for the US, much of the current situation would disappear. I’ve met so many people who describe it currently as a very dysfunctional & corrupt process that involves either waiting for close to 15 years to get your work permit, or paying a significant amount of money to get ‘expedited service’ (i.e. a bribe).

All they want to do is work the crappy jobs that we do not and for that our current system makes people pony-up a year or two’s wages, or face the desert, or even worse, indentured to less than scrupulous employers who offer a life akin to slavery in exchange for not turning them in to our ICE Gestapo-esque enforcement machine.

This is what the Arizona conservative effort could have pushed and gave the Republicans of Congress the political cover to accomplish, and thus probably have established a powerful Latino voting block throughout the entire US populace. Instead of looking forward, reactionary thought through fear-mongering and xenophobia won the day and the both the national & international reputation of my home state was trashed, making it a pariah amongst those who would try to defend it from it’s historical detractors.

Surely as a constitutional republic we can do much better; I miss people like William F. Buckley at times like this, and yes, I HATE Illinois Nazis...

I know that I am ranting and that is certainly not my intent, however, I really want my friends in the United States to understand the true cost of aggressive laws and foreign policy, at least in what kind of environment we create for ourselves in the eyes of other nations. While I have noticed a correlation between those who tend to favor such policies and an apparent disinterest in foreign travel and/or residence, I will not drive that point too sternly here. However, I sincerely want the supporters of such efforts to at least realize the impact of them on people who work and travel beyond the borders of our beautiful country, let alone (like me) those carrying an Arizona ID card - for me, it feels something akin to having to show a passport with a swastika on the front of it.

Ever been on the receiving-end of the reaction to our foreign policy?

(Been there before also and it still sucks)

So I made my way down to the beach and found a small tienda, selling one of my favorite beers, Victoria. For those not familiar with it, it’s a very good quality pilsner, probably a remnant of the Mexican-based ex-patriot German brewing infrastructure that was nationalized at the height of WWI (refer to your history book under the topic Zimmerman Telegram, as I have not the space for that here). This favorite beer, as with any such comfort food/beverage, evokes a relaxed feeling in me that is similar to a shoulder rub from a female friend after a tough day at the hangar, doing battle with a stubborn autopilot computer in a dingy old 737.

It is a special beer here in Mexico, as it is not exported to any other countries. The company that brews it has established a business model that makes it available in Mexico and Mexico only. A good friend of mine explained the advertising campaign of this brand of beer on Mexican television & publications as, “La Victoria es Nuestra”, which means, ‘the Victory is ours’. A source of pride I agree and it has become a preferred brew while living down this way.

As the fellow sat my Victoria down and I reached for my wallet, he saw that I did not have a Mexican ID, but rather a US one. In a friendly tone, he asked me where I was from and I, being a bit tired and thus forgetting the news of the day, quickly responded “Arizona!” as it’s a source of pride with it’s huge Mexicano population. I could see the surprise in his face as the friendliness left his expression. He slowly retrieved my beloved Victoria from the counter and pointed to the door, saying (I think) “please leave”. Embarrassed for myself, annoyed with his response, ashamed of my countrymen, and just flat-out amazed at the exchange, I stumbled away and looked over my shoulder hoping that someone didn’t decide they wanted to get a piece of me to boot. Thinking back, I realize now that this is not really a common behavior trait amongst the populace, but at the time I was so neurotic about the whole thing that I made it a point to stay away from the streetlights as much as possible.

I crossed over to the other side (and down almost a quarter mile, btw) to the beach side of the street and found another tienda, also selling Victoria’s. Hiding my ID well under a couple of credit cards, I walked-up, order
ed “Dos cervesas, por vavor” and stealthily pulled the money from my wallet. With what I would assume is a thick accent to these folks, the young fellow at the counter naturally asked me if I was from in the US. I answered “Si, Alabama”. He nodded approvingly and I told him to keep the change. Ironically, to Mexicans Alabama is a much less racist area than Arizona… apologies to my friends in both, but it is an interesting point to consider and speaks volumes to the hard work of one, along with the damage done with the stroke of a governor's pen to the other. Thank the dear Lord my LR's tags are from Alabama...!!

Btw, I have now permanently hidden my my Arizona ID and only my close friends here know my home of record. My new nickname is, "Pinche Arizona Nazi Cavrone". Although it's jokingly applied by people who do not mean ill toward me, I still have to wear it like a scarlet letter, hidden under my shirt.

(Frank's current portrait, according to the daily noticias)

If you completely disagree with everything that I have written so far, at the very least please come away with this one lesson - having opinions about your character superseded by the bad decisions of others really does suck ass, trust me. As Americans, this is the bed that we create for ourselves to lie in when we wish to travel through and interact with the people of the world. We are continuing the process of undermining the good will that once dominated public opinion toward the US; a tipping point may be reached in which our reputation of 'the shining city on the hill' will not recover, at least in our lifetimes. I implore the good folks of Arizona to re-think their views on immigration.

Staring at the Sea...looking at the sky, looking at the sand

(no gun in my hand, nope)

Grabbing my ice-cold treasure, I swigged one as I walked out on the beach. I actually finished one within about 20 yards; perhaps it was from the heat of the day of maybe it was the relief that I had actually made it there, but it went down easily and I was transformed to a much better place. I took off my shoes, rolled-up my pants, and entered that beloved place in the mind known to my Parrothead friends as ‘Margaritaville’. I looked up at what must have been close to a full moon as I waded into the Gulf up to my knees, thoroughly enjoying my second beer as the sea breeze gently blew through my open shirt.

Like reaching the top of a mountain peak, a sense of deep relief entered and my body lost all of its tension and life was really good again. There on the beach, after all of the afore-mentioned drama, standing in the saltwater, at that wonderful moment, the victory was mine.

2000 Miles in One Week - Part II

2010-05-11T00:38:00.008-05:00

Headed Due South with a Big Root Beer in my hand

(...and yet another machine gun pointed at my tires, lol)

So, with a big 'S' indicated on the compass, a big Barq’s Root Beer (from Wendy’s Drive Thru, of course), a brand spankin’ new Mexico registration placard for the ‘Disco’ and an actual radio station that was broadcasting "en Ingles" still blasting on the radio, I was lighting up my tires as I headed out of Heroica Matomoros, through the military checkpoints and finding the highway to Victoria with relative ease, (i.e. I got lost only once...).

Btw, my friends seem to love the scary stories of how dangerous Mexico is, so here's a nice, scary pic of a guy with a big gun to scare the crap out of you! lol

Even if it was a just a crappy Journey tune that I was sick of, even back in the 80's, it was being announced in a language that I was not to hear on the radio for the next few months. Life was pretty good, and I was soaking it all in like you take a big gulp of air before diving into the ocean.

As is often part of our experience, however, el Diablo often has something to say about the best laid plans of mice and men, so to remind me where my place was, he made sure a nice big nail found its way to my front tire and as the radio station faded the LR began to increasingly ‘steer’ to the left and my thick-headed optimism was decisively interrupted. One thing that I made certain to do while I was in San Antonio was to reacquire a full set of tools for the truck, including a decent hydraulic jack. The prior had been pilfered during one of my weaken states of inebriation in the quaint little town of San Miguel de Allende, but that’s a story for another time…

So in a simultaneous act of cursing and thanking my good fortune, which is a particularly odd combination, I do admit, I pulled the vehicle in a U-turn onto a very nice concrete slab out in literally the middle of close to nowhere. I say that because I found out that nowhere was just another couple of hours south of there, but the scenery made it worth the trip.

One thing to consider when traveling in areas that are less-than-blessed with infrastructure, which is something that we Norte Americanos definitely take for granted, is the need to be as self-sufficient as is possible. I was now in much less populated part of Mexico, not to mention still pretty close to la Frontera, where all of the news stories generated of late seemed to originate. To have to abandon my vehicle out here to get the tire fixed would certainly be a great risk to it, as what I may return to could very well no longer be operable, if I were to find anything at all. One thing that I do want to make clear, however, is that to do that anywhere on the planet is risky, but in this part of it the risks are just more brought into focus, especially in the spotlight of the US fear-machine we call the national news. I do not recommend being in such a compromising situation anywhere in the world, worst of all would be the major cities of the United States, but that is my experience.

Anyway, I took a significant risk in not packing the basics of a good jack before and now I was in a state of utter relief with the realization of having what was needed for my upcoming effort. That little jack was about to save my fat butt and I swear that I gave it a hug as I unpacked it!

The Mexican Version of the Triple A

However, my previous fears were again allayed, as is often the case in traveling, because after the tire was changed I packed-up and not 30 seconds after I began driving south again I was passed by one of the ‘green angels’ - particularly ironic in that they are the Mexican government's answer to our AAA, and fully sponsored and very well-equipped.

As I mentioned prior, driving in the remote areas is a bit risky without tools, but in the more traveled routes Mexico has established a large fleet of service trucks (painted white & green) that patrol their highways looking for and assisting stranded tourists with small amounts of gas, water/coolant for overheated engines, help changing tires, and minor mechanical work if needed. In exchange for their help, ‘propina’ or a small tip is expected, and this is quite appropriate considering the value of what is offered; from what I’m told, usually $10 to 20 USD is more than fair compensation. To me, it is a great idea that really adds piece of mind, should anything happen, as they have about a 30 minute to 1 hour maximum interval between patrols. For those who find themselves with the decision to visit the interior of Mexico, this service is a demonstration of Mexico’s commitment to reducing the concerns of its ‘touristas’.

Here's a map of the routes through Mexico that these guys patrol, which is pretty much the breadth of the country:

btw, here's a great link for more info:

http://www.ontheroadin.com/travelinnformation/green_angels_of_mexico.htm

In case you're interested, FM3's and such...

I had noted before that the Immigration Officer at Neuvo Laredo was adamant that I get an FM3 if I was going to stay in Mexico for such extended stays, as the last one was definitely that. However, while I was staying in San Antonio I stopped-by the Mexican Consulate there, which is a really beautiful building btw, and after speaking with their Immigration Officers, they insisted that I did not.

For those who are facing this decision, per the Mexican consulate the skinny on an FM3 is as follows: If you are spending a lot of time in Mexico but not working at a company in the country, you do not need an FM3. My contention, that I travel back to the US to do my work and then return to Mexico to do anything but, lol, allows me to use a tourist visa. If a person is going to work in Mexico, then the company that they are working at should sponsor them and get an FM3 for their stay there. This is a somewhat involved process and having a sponsor makes the effort much easier, so I understand.

Coca Cola Diplomacy and the search for some TLC for the ol' Disco

So again headed south I traveled through some amazing landscape, much of it reminiscent of northern California and the rolling hills of Napa Valley, sans tacky “wine tasting” signs everywhere. The area was very sparsely populated and the open spaces allowed sweeping vistas, especially to the westward as the sun moved toward the horizon. While picturesque, it gave me a little concern because I had a bad tire that needed attention, which required a ‘vulcanizador’ or literally, tire expert. I needed to find a place to fix my tire should my luck run out yet again, however one aspect of Mexican highways is that, while there is plenty of debris on the roads, there are also plenty of people who specialize in fixing the problems that debris can cause.

As I approached a small town about an hour south of where I had changed my tire, I came upon the usual array of small tiendas (shops) many of them either devoted to feeding you or fixing your vehicle. I wanted an eatery and a vulcanizadora placed next to each other and it didn’t take long to find exactly that combination. A rickety shack is how I would describe this fellow’s place, really a roadside workshop assembled from whatever lumber could be cobbled-together over the years that could provide shade from the hot sun, a comfortable place for he and his young apprentice to ply his trade, and a reasonably secure place to store his small amount of tools after hours.

Smacking my dead spare hanging-off the back of the LR, he quickly set off to work directing his apprentice to remove the tire and get it separated from the rim, as he himself had probably done literally thousands of times in the past. No surprise that they did not get many of these British mudwagons through their neck of the woods as over-sized lugs were a problem. I offered my 4-way lug wrench and from there on the team dragonaded my little problem; before I could grab my computer bag and request that the new tire be put back onto the front position, they had nearly completely separated the tire from the rim. These guys definitely did NOT get paid by the hour!

The Perfect Refresher on a Warm Afternoon

(or how to experience 'Americana past' in rural Mexico - who'd a thunk?!)

The tienda that I had spotted next to the tire shop was a pretty common sight in Mexico, which is actually nothing more that a heavy grill in front, a metal framed canopy over a couple of plastic tables & chairs, with a shelter in the rear where the coolers for drinks are kept in the shade. By coolers, I mean a couple of large plastic ice chests that house large ice blocks that the vendors ingeniously cut long grooves into, placing a glass bottle of coke or sometimes another local favorite What hand you as they open it is something right out of Americana, at least 40 to 50 years old in its presentation, a large, heavy, nearly half-liter sized glass bottle of frosty cold Coca Cola. It was makings of a campy television ad as I took it and thoroughly enjoyed half of it even before I made my food order, which was easy as there were only two things offered, half or a whole chicken, with beans and Mexican style rice. I decided on the half as the Coke did me wonders.

The temp was in the high 80’s and I looked over to see how the guys were progressing; they were already re-mounting the repaired tire on the rim even before my food had arrived. Ordering two more cokes, I made a special delivery over to my two new favorite people, just to say thanks for their help. Apparently that was rare event due to the highly surprised looks I was given, but after my insistence the old fellow smiled and in seconds had downed half of his, much the same as I had done. His apprentice was dustily banging away on the next victim of the road’s infamous debris, nodding as I waved to him.

Roadside Cuisine - Mexico real

(or if you're not dining within 20 ft of a busy thoroughfare, then you have not properly experienced it)

A mainstay of Mexican culture is the simple, yet delicious roasted chicken that is served from one end of the country to the other, and is called ‘pollo al carbon’. Along with it, various beans are slow-cooked in a pot, usually placed onto the same grill next to the chicken being roasted, and rice rounds-out this meal, also cooked in a pot, often nearby the prior. Along with the chicken, chiles, and/or strips of cactus are roasted on the grill, adding an amazing flavor to the meat and I love to pile them onto my tortilla and cover it with the salsa of the house.

Contrary to popular belief, the salsas are more times than not, quite mild, especially when I compare them to what graced the tables of my home city restaurants in Tempe. Salsas here, really depending on where you eat, range from the flat-out mild to about 7.1 on Franks’ now infamous thermo-nuclear heat rating, lol. No, honestly, if you don’t mind an occasional “warmth” shall we say, real Mexican salsas served in real family restaurants here are more about taste and less about heat. The combinations that are offered are vast with a wonderful surprise in flavor often being the result as each chef prides themselves of having a delicious salsa that they make by hand, every day. My friends and I quipped that in the restaurants in the US, if they need more salsa, they reach for another bottle and pour. In

Mexico

, they reach for the raw ingredients and start chopping & mixing!

After my second coke, I finished a really nice, albeit picnic-style meal and opened the laptop to do some photo downloads. I must have appeared almost alien to the girl working the tienda tapping away on this thing there along the roadside, or at east provided some comic relief for the day(?). One thing that stuck me particularly was that even there, sitting at a roadside village, out in the middle of the Mexican countryside, I noticed that I had a WiFi network available and it was pretty strong also. Amazing how technology offers little escape, even if separated from the large population centers.

I paid my good hostess for her fine treatment & dinner, which was about 40 pesos with tip (approx $3) and then paid my resident tire expert for his expertise & fine work, which asked for 30 pesos and I responded with a 50 peso note and another ice-cold one. I snapped a quick photo and was on my way yet again, hoping to make Tampico before nightfall.

I was treated to yet more sweeping vistas of the Sierra Madres as the sun set behind them in an even more dramatic landscape. Onward & southward my LR and I flew, to the coast to find the little city by the sea called Tampico.

2000 Miles in One Week - part I

2010-05-04T20:33:00.012-05:00

A tour of the ages - well, for my summer... lol

Last week I was forced, due to the vehicle registration laws here in Mexico, to drive up to the border, turn in my expired vehicle sticker and apply for a new one. That was the plan, at least...

My friends put-in their purchase requests for the US trip, as I was driving the Land Rover so weight was not as big of an issue this time. Also, I hitting a Guitar Center while there, so my musician friends had much to include. My time in the USA was definitely dominated by shopping, which was actually quite fun since it was not for me - spending OPM! (other people's money). Something that is easy to do, especially up in the Estados Unidos.

The trip up to Neuvo Laredo was uneventful and I made very good time driving with some 'Chilangos' (folks from Mexico City) in their Audi's & BMW's on the tollways that are offered, called 'cuotas'. If you are ever down this way, I recommend them highly as they are quite reasonable and usually much better quality than the 'libre', which is the free roadways. I think that the entire trip cost me close to $30USD in tolls and probably saved me about 2-3 hours in travel time.

The requirements to operate your own vehicle while visiting deep into Mexico, which is anything beyond about 25 km, are that you must present your vehicle registration, identification and approved immigration form. Also, a credit card to use for a promissory bond that will guarantee that you will not sell the vehicle while living in Mexico, (as the flood of cheap vehicles from the US would cut into the 50 to 100% extra that is paid by Mexican citizens for the same cars, btw), and a $32 processing fee is charged to it.

The permit is only good for 6 months, and in order to renew it, one must turn in the old decal at a border crossing first, getting a receipt to prove that they did so and thus did not sell the car in Mexico; failure to do so automatically disqualifies them to never be allowed to bring another car into the country, so the receipt is a very important thing to keep for posterity, should he wish to drive through Mexico in the future. I have begun my collection which shall be stored with the vehicle registration for as long as I am able to keep track of them.

The Military Was Definitely in Charge of the Northern Sectors

(or how to avoid being machine-gunned at a checkpoint - kidding, jeez)

Getting back to N.Laredo was a cinch, as the roads were fine, the traffic was relatively light and I made it a point to travel only during the daylight hours to attempt to steer-clear of any of the 'problems' that everyone hears about on the border. Actually, the military had occasional checkpoints (2 total in each direction) and they seemed to have done a good job in keeping the likelihood of any such activities a very low risk. At one of them I was asked to vacate my vehicle while the officer on duty checked my the old Discovery for any "pistolas", of which I definitely had none and little else but some luggage so it was a quick one.

They were quite well-mannered and further, quite well-tempered as, while it had to be something of a dangerous job, they still are happy to converse with you as the inspection is being done. I was chatting with a trooper about his FN-FAL, which stands for Fabrique Nationale de Herstal (FN) - Fusil Automatique Léger ("Light Automatic Rifle") and he proudly showed me the smoothness of the magazine loading and the breach action. It was Belgian made, which one of the best on the planet, and he was happy it had been issued to him. I was in agreement, it was a fine a work of craftsmanship.

Okay, I agree, enough geeking-out on ordinance - apologies, it's a weakness, but look at the lines on these....!

Anyway, all the while, one must remember that there is a heavy weapon pointed in your general direction. While it protects you from 'bad guys' one also is cognizant that any sudden movements are ill-advised and keeping a minimum distance from the soldiers with hands held at one's sides is probably the best method of self-preservation. Talking with your hands gesturing - bad idea.

Believe it or not, it is not a feeling of fear, just overall caution along with tempering of behavior and tone, if that makes any sense. In a way it was much like being back in the service, where proper decorum is paramount on occasion; follow the rules and you'll be both protected and on your way soon. While it's not my preferred state of existence it certainly beats the snot out of the other local armed groups who do not have my best interests at heart.

Thrown out of my host country, kinda...

So I get to the Mexican Immigration facility at N. Laredo and go through the line of vehicles to turn-in my old registration, which is set up nicely as a drive through service, and get my all-important receipt. Btw, the attendant does not remove it for you but rather he will simply ask for it. Removing it was my problem, which after six months in the sun could prove difficult 'by fingernail', etc. Luckily, (for some reason) I had an old razor blade in my center console, so removing it took me far less time than most of the other soon-to-be repatriated Americanos. A streak of luck that would be short-lived, unfortunately.

One of the requirements to have one's registration authorized, obviously, was to have a valid & approved immigration document. Meandering to their window I presented my prior documents from when I first arrived six months prior, along with my most recent one granted in Mexico City. He questioned my comings and goings and quickly decided that I had been in Mexico far too much to be a tourist and that I needed to spend at least a week back in my own country.

A bit taken aback, I asked what I had done wrong and he insisted that I get an FM3 authorization, which is for long-term visitors who are either employed and working in Mexico, or retired and living there. I know that this is a costly and somewhat complicated process, so it was not good news to me, however I nodded and agreed to look into it at the Mexican Consulate in San Antonio. Waving his hand, he instructed me to go and get one and I was out of there before they could decide I needed something else on top of what I considered to be an already difficult task!

I was happy to spend the next few days in San Antonio, as it was the home of a good friend of mine from back in my Pensacola days and it would give me time to recharge and let my knee heal up from the long drive. Btw, my cruise control was completely inoperative, so I had to stay on the gas pedal for the duration of that leg; not fun on my old joints and it left me walking like a little old man for much of the time up there. Of course, that proved to be the biggest priority during my visit there, which the local Land Rover dealership obliged and corrected in just a couple of hours, (once the part arrived from UK on the following Monday - yikes!). What a professional crew that was; I would hope to at least just stop in and say hello to them some time.

Shopping like it's friggin' Christmas

With list in-hand from my good friends down south, that weekend I commenced to hit Wal Mart, Macy's, Dillard's, Guitar Center, and every great BBQ joint I could find. My favorite was a TX chain called Randy's - we ordered a sampling that included every thing on the menu, which the cooks were quite happy to accommodate, as they absolutely couldn't imagine living for several months without not having a good BBQ! lol Also, there were several great movie houses in town, which I was able to not only see the ones that I had missed down in Qro, but they even had them in IMAX 3D, which was completely worth the wait and I highly recommend it if you haven't experienced it yet. I definitely was living the Texas life that weekend, which was like everything else in Texas - BIG. It was a nice mini vacation that actually included some work, as the Starbucks were plentiful and the WiFi was too.

After the 'Disco' was repaired, I pointed it SE on the 37 and was in Corpus Christi in just a couple of hours. It's a nice town with a scenic shorefront along Corpus Christi Bay that basically starts from downtown and, looking at the map, could be driven all of the way to the Naval Air Station. After over 30 mins south along with stopping at one of the many parks, as the sun began to set, I eventually chickened-out and headed back west to catch the 77 south to Brownsville. Along the way, however, I got lucky and stumbled onto the main drag through the south end of town, the 358, and found a nice coffeeshop (inside a B&N Bookstore) to do some final checks on the route, flirt with some ladies in English for a change, and also get a good map of Mexico, which I had been in serious need of. Charging out of there an hour later, I headed to Brownsville and rolled into a hotel at 1 am that evening, about a three hour drive.

The following morning I was running behind schedule, as usual, so I had to forgo a quick trip out the the coast to San Padre Island. According to those whom I had spoken with knowledgeable of the area, I had missed a chance to see a beautiful little resort town on the sea. If you are in this part of the state, be sure to not make the same mistake; based on what was to come, surprisingly, it was my last chance to experience a great part of the Gulf of Mexico for a very long distance while heading southward.

A Great Many Surprises Awaited Me

At the border crossing from Brownsville, at Heroica Matamoros, I had no idea what to expect but was certainly prepared for the worst. Armed with a 'last meal' from the Wendy's about 1/2 mile north of the crossing (I've never found a Wendy's in Mexico, unfortunately), I proceeded across the bridge and was directed to the immigration facility immediately afterward. Finishing-up my Barq's root beer (again, not found in Mexico, unfortunately) I steeled myself for the expected onslaught to come and walked into the office.

What I was greeted with, however, was a huge, genuine smile and a wonderfully helpful Immigration agent who made the experience not only easy, but also a pleasure. 30 Minutes later, after I had completed everything needed, including getting my new vehicle registration, I found myself in a terrific mood and strolled to the waiting LR, which unlike the facility at N.Laredo, is parked in a covered area so it was easy to adhere the new decal.

I was good-to-go and headed south big time, but I had a very long distance to get to Tampico, which was my next stop.

A word on my home state's new immigration law

2010-04-29T17:22:00.006-05:00

the newest version of fascism - it's a beautiful thing... (yaaay)

f

having a bad day at work?

2010-04-15T11:00:00.008-05:00

Have you ever felt like this

when you are overloaded by your boss ???

...ah, reminds me of my days at Boeing, lol

things that can go very wrong at a gig - vol. I

2010-04-08T18:17:00.006-05:00

For the touring musician, an occasional 'tough lesson' that I am reminded of living (and eating) down here. Definitely make sure that you're well-accustomed to the local cuisine's impact on you - before-hand!

I know, T-M-I, but a cautionary tale for those who make their living on-stage.

lol

f

Special People Who We Never Really Knew

2010-04-04T21:47:00.019-05:00

There are countless people in the world who lived their 'normal' lives while also living a quiet, but important other life, not seeking to be rewarded but rather because it was the right thing to do. This story is about one of those people.

You may have known her from early radio, countless movies, TV shows, both stage and screen indeed, but the actress, singer & comedian we knew as Martha Raye was also known in the military affectionately as

"Colonel Maggie".

I've compiled a couple of anecdotes that tell another side of the story of this remarkable woman and the contributions that she quietly made to support the troops in some of the most dangerous places in the world, witnessing so much of the worst war has to offer.

I hope to, at the very least, remind us all of what a debt of gratitude we owe her and others like her.

The following is from an Army Aviator who takes another trip down memory lane:

It was just before Thanksgiving '67 and we were ferrying dead and wounded from a large GRF west of Pleiku. We had run out of body bags by noon, so the Hook (CH-47 CHINOOK/helicopter) was pretty rough in the back. All of a sudden, we heard a 'take-charge' woman's voice in the rear.

There was the singer and actress, Martha Raye, with a SF ( Special Forces) beret and jungle fatigues, with subdued markings, helping the wounded into the Chinook, and carrying the dead aboard. 'Maggie' had been visiting her SF 'heroes' out 'west'.

We took off, short of fuel, and headed to the USAF hospital pad at Pleiku. As we all started unloading our sad pax's, a 'Smart-Ass' USAF Captain said to Martha.... Ms Ray, with all these dead and wounded to process, there would not be time for your show!

To all of our surprise, she pulled on her right collar and said... Captain, see this eagle? I am a full 'Bird' in the US Army Reserve, and on this is a 'Caduse' which means I am a Nurse, with a surgical speciality.... now take me to your wounded. He said, 'YES MA'AM, Follow me'.

Several times at the Army Field Hospital in Pleiku, she would 'cover' a surgical shift, giving a nurse a well-deserved break. Without fanfare, without the media!

The following is from another Army Aviator and his memories of her:

In October 1966, she went to Soc Trang, Viet Nam, to entertain the troops at the base which was the home base of the 121st Aviation company, the Soc Trang Tigers, the gunship platoon, The Vikings and the 336th Aviation company.

Shortly after her arrival, both units were called out on a mission to extract supposed POW's from an area nearby. Raye decided to hold her troupe of entertainers there until the mission was completed so that all of the servicemen could watch her show.

During that time, a serviceman flying a "Huey Slick" helicopter carrying troops recalls that his ship received combat damage to the extent that he had to return to base at Soc Trang:

I was the pilot of that "slick" which had received major damage to the tail-rotor drive shaft from a lucky enemy rifle shot. The maintenance team at the staging area inspected and determined that a one-time flight back to base camp would be okay but grounded the aircraft after that.

Upon arriving back at Soc Trang, I informed Martha (she came right up to us and asked how things were going) that we had a gunship down in the combat area and additional efforts were being made to extract the crew. I don't recall if we had received word of the death of the pilot at that time. Martha stated that she and her troupe would remain until everyone returned from the mission. As there were no replacements, the servicemen could not return to the mission.

While the servicemen waited, Raye played poker with them and helped to keep everyone's spirits up. I enjoyed playing cards with Martha but regretted it somewhat. It appears that she had plenty of practice playing poker with GI's during her USO service in multiple wars.

But I still love her for who she was and what she did. When the mission was completed, which had resulted in the loss of a helicopter, gunship and a Viking pilot, there was also an officer, the Major who was in command of the Vikings who had been wounded when the ship went down. He was flying pilot position but was not in control of the ship when the command pilot, a Warrant Officer, was shot. When he and the two remaining crewmen were returned to Soc Trang, Raye volunteered to assist the doctor in treating the wounded flyer.

When all had been completed, Raye waited until everybody was available and then put on her show. Everyone involved appreciated her as an outstanding trouper and a caring person.

During the Vietnam War, she was made an honorary Green Beret because she visited United States Army Special Forces in Vietnam without fanfare, and she helped out when things got bad in Special Forces A-Camps. As a result, she came to be known affectionately by the Green Berets as "Colonel Maggie."

Martha is the only woman buried in the SF (Special Forces) cemetery at Ft. Bragg...

(thanks to Bill Terry)

Semper Fi,

a weekend with good friends - part II

2010-03-24T21:17:00.019-06:00

A funny thing happened on my way to the Forum...
(okay, I was headed to Harry's, lol)

So, there I was, minding my own business, headed down to Harry's to watch the last two sets of a new band (to me) called Bee-Groove. They were a funk-style band that was fronted by the wife of my friend & coworker Fabien who is the head of Engineering at the facility I work at. Her name is Lixia and they hail both from Paris, home of great funk bands! ....well, maybe it is(?) lol

She formed-up this band with some of the local pros and have developed quite a reputation as a fun show to catch - so I planned on seeing them at long last.

However, my best-laid plans were halted at the edge of the plaza entrance by some recent and not-so recent acquaintances, Miguel, Javier and his brother who was in town for the holiday weekend from Chihuahua.

They basically collared me before I could even enter Harry's and we were off...!

(obviously I was not struggling)

After a quick stop at the convenience store en-route to pick up two bottles of 'the Captain' and cokes, we headed over to what was a party already in full swing. It was hosted by a fellow who is widely-known as 'El Quixote" as he makes his living impersonating the famed literary character, armor included. His metal breastplate has a slight modernization in that it includes a three inch slot cut into it with a 'gracias' written in sharpie just below it, (yes, exactly - it's for tips!).

The form of entertainment was called 'trios' and it consists of three talented and very rehearsed fellows playing traditional romantic songs, singing in harmony, while the entire room sings along.

As we entered the room and made our way to a table reserved in the corner, the leader of the trio announced, what I think was, the title that Javier held, along with leading the crowd in a 'three cheers' to him. He replied with a nonchalant wave to everyone and quickly sat down.

I thought, "who is this guy anyway...?"

After the three finished their hour-long set, we were treated to a short slide show of a famous since-passed fellow musician, whom I found out later that the party was actually held in honor of.

here's a not-so-professional video I shot of the event.
it's just a quick pan, but it gives an idea of what it was like:

After that, ladies were brought up to the front to sing their personal favorites, which instead of turning into a karaoke-esque fiasco, turned out to be something quite elegant and one lady's rendition of a bolero called "El Pastor" left no one present with a dry eye, much in the way Tania Libertad was famous for.

Btw, go to YouTube and search for that song; there are several beautiful recordings.

here's one of Tania; it will put you into the mood of the event:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_8Jm4ITptjM

(btw, the video portion is not so great but the audio is worth it!)

It was a beautiful way to spend an evening, however it was far from over.

Front-row treatment t the hottest spot in town

We left the party with the bulk of the attendees and as we literally stumbled along the cobblestone streets of Queretaro, I was informed that we were headed to another place called 'La Mulata' which was a club here in town that I had yet to see, but always wanted to. The name translated is that of a dark-skinned woman, which denotes sexiness, I imagine.

Arriving at the entrance, we were met with the usual bulldog-like reception of bouncers demanding 'entrada', which in this case was 50 pesos (around $5) each. Javier, who as I said, I knew as a local politician with a few connections, met the head bouncer and after chatting with him all of ten seconds, we were not only in for free, but were led into the place, which was as spacious as a warehouse and completely packed with at least 700 people, perhaps 1000(?).

After walking nearly a full two minutes, winding our way through the darkened aisle ways lit with the occasional flash of the overhead lasers and camera flashes, we were led to a table that was right in front of, and at the center of. the massive stage. We were in arguably THE best table in the place!

The once passing thought was now a full-blown nagging feeling as I thought, "just who the heck is this guy anyway...?!!"

And so the night continued, the party raged and the band came onto the stage to re-claim it from the DJ plying his usual wares of trendy hip hop, etc, that is common now the world over.

To call this place a nightclub, however, would certainly be a misrepresentation, as it was one of the largest indoor areas I've seen since I arrived here, more comparable to a High School Gymnasium. This is an important point for what happens later in the evening - well, morning...

A Cat with a way-kewl axe

So in travels I usually try to chat with the band and compare notes, especially with the bass players that I meet. This fellow caught my attention when he pulled-out a 'Factor' bass, which is a really cutting-edge looking machine by Philip Kubicki, and his was even a five string, which I had never seen before. I remember back in the late 80's when these were popularized by cats like Stu Hamm & Jon Taylor from Duran-Duran, and they were all of the rage until they almost literally disappeared 10 years later, at least to me. Looking on the Internet, they can still be had, but this guy's factor5 is truly a rarity - a way-kewl axe indeed.

Chatting with other players and some research on the net show that Kubicki is still making basses, but finding one seems to be a bit difficult for folks like me. Perhaps some day when I'm playing that lousy 80's cover band, I'll be sporting the flock of seagulls hairdo and slapping my own Factors - ah, to dream, but I digress... haha

A somewhat-normal occurrence, at least for me, unfortunately
(or how to really screw-up a really great evening by being a dumb s**t)

So eventually I make my way back to our table in center/front and the whole place is going crazy as the band proceeds into a 30 minute medley of dance tunes from the 70's, 80's, 90's, along with a heavy dose of hip-hop driving the set. It was definitely well-rehearsed, quite incredible and nobody was able to resist dancing - the entire area in front of the stage was on the verge of being a mosh pit, (but a fun one).

So I reached for my wallet ready to help pay for the tab, and then it struck me - gone! I checked every pocket, nothing. All around the floor in the immediate area, nope. I think the color left me face as I realized that I was in a foreign country with no credit cards, no means of getting money, and the only ID I had was my passport book. Doing a quick calculation, I figured that I needed a minimum of $500 USD to get a plane ticket back to Phoenix, or at least half that to drive to Texas, either of which I had nothing to use - shit!

Selling one of bass guitars was about my only other option, but that would have really sucked as it took a lot of time & money to acquire them. Of course I was a bit inebriated with the good rum all night, so my thinking was not entirely clear, but I did at least grasp the weight of my predicament - get looking for it was my immediate decision (I know, duh!).

I checked around with a few places I had chatted with the band, etc, but nothing was there. Back at the table, my friends were equally worried for me and offered to pick up my part of the tab. Nice, but also a bit necessary, as I had not two pesos to rub together! Heading out of the club, I was feeling pretty bummed, but Javier told me to wait a moment while he told the club manager about my loss. The manager motioned for me to follow him back into the club. After another couple of minutes of winding our way back to the other end, we came to a bar that was located there where he asked a lady working there about finding anything.

Lifting up the cash register entirely, she held out my wallet and said "solamente esto" (only this). I think I did a moonwalk as I found that everything was in it including my debit card & identification, life was good again! Javier was officially my favorite person at that point, lol.

So just who is this guy...?

On the way home we made our way over to the atm as I insisted on paying them back my share of the tab, which was not really a lot to me, but I know that wages here are roughly a third of the States. As we strolled the cobblestone streets, admiring the older colonial-era mansions of the central district, we passed through the plaza in the middle of the government offices, which once served as the seat of government when Queretaro was Capital of Mexico, long ago when it was the crown of the Spanish empire.

As we passed a particularly elegant edificio (building) from the 1700's with a huge bronze plaque on it that read, something to the effect of, State Governor's Office. Javier non-nonchalantly pointed to it saying, "That's my office."

Inquiring about it later that week with my friends down at Harry's I found out that he's the representative for Queretaro for that office. in the US we would refer to him as, basically, the Lieutenant Governor.

...Okay, I wasn't expecting that one, either!

For all of you guys out there who like to drive really fast

2010-03-23T12:35:00.010-06:00

It says:

Life goes on. Drive Carefully.

'nuf said...!

f

a weekend with good friends - part I

2010-03-16T18:04:00.004-06:00

To feel like a Lion on stage...

It was an amazing weekend, starting-out with Friday going to see my friends Vudu Chile play at Wooli's Kaban in San Miguel Allende. It was a special evening in that, unbeknownst to me, they had an artist as part of the show. The painter, Norton Wisdom, had performed a couple of days prior with David the vocalist, who was doing an acoustic show there, David was so impressed that he invited him to perform at the Vudu Chile show.

As I arrived, the 'canvas' was already being set-up, well ahead of the band's gear (surprise-surprise! lol). What it consisted of was a 4x8 sheet of plastic with shrouds on the sides and a bright spotlight on the back side. This illuminated the plastic canvas in a way that allowed the field to be seen even from the far end of the room and the paints that he used, as I found out later, were semi-translucent, and they became a glowing work of art as he worked to create them. This he did all evening, creating an amazing scene that was driven by the music being performed in simultaneous harmony - literally, performance art!

In my ignorance I asked Norton at the beginning of the show, "so do you do one painting for the whole evening or a couple, or what?"

He simply replied, "You'll see..."

That was an understatement.

It turns-out that he's a renowned painter famous for this style of work; there are several videos of him on-stage, so-to-speak. Here's a video of some of his paintings being created:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZIn0a9APMNU http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GUUx8x309iQ&feature=related

One important caveat - this form is basically just a sketch-version of what Norton Wisdom does on canvas. He travels with a photographic portfolio of his work that he sells, and it is amazing. Similar in concept to the 'stage paintings' however the depth of work looks to be several days, possibly even weeks to create.

The band set up their stuff and it was our first time together since I had left three weeks prior, so we had a lot of catching-up to do. I had brought back several things from the US that the guys could use for 'the music biz' so it was a bit like Christmas - we had a great time chatting and opening gifts! lol

The first two of the three sets saw several creations by our resident artist, which he would creat over a few songs, photograph and then wipe the board clean. A few of the painting s were a bit risque' ones that, while most of the customers really loved, a select few 'were not amused' and one decided that she had "had quite enough of this and this guy needed to change his paintings or end this immediately!". In a moment of clarity, as she demanded that the band interrupt the show and basically kick Norton out, David also decided that he had had quite enough of her pettiness and politely yet firmly informed her that instead of adhering to her demands, "perhaps it was time that she left".

After hearing the story, I and everyone else was quite proud of him.

The third set was especially fun, in that the alcohol was beginning to really kick-in, both on-stage and off! David worked the room as the seasoned pro he has become and the crowd danced and cheered with his 'improvisations', shall we say, during a song that allowed him to really cut loose. The evening was a very fun but it most certainly rated PG.

Settling into my comfy couch in the adjoining room behind the stage, I re-opened my laptop and went over some design specs for Gigbag, which I had been doing much of the evening, not to mention the whole week prior. We have been trying to have design of the Musician's section of the website completed so the vendors can get us an accurate estimate for it, which we expect to be quite a substantial sum. It has become something of a routine for me over the last few years, where any time that the muse is upon me I almost always carry my bag along just in case.

About 20 minutes into the set though, I see Javier, the bassist of the group waving to me to get my butt up there. My first thought was "shit, I haven't even touched a bass in almost a month!" and me playing a song was probably an express ticket to clearing-out the bar. Luckily for me, I do have one thing especially in my favor: Javier, who is an amazing player is also a skilled technician, has set-up his G&L 5 string bass with such wonderfully low action and even my rusty fingers find it is a dream to play.

'The lads' insisted and we broke into a solid rendition of SRV's Texas Flood, which is a slow blues tune that really has a lot of room for what I would call, contemplation, and it allows deep infusion of emotion into it. At first I felt very rusty and a bit out-of-it, however it quickly clicked.

As the song moved out of the intro and into that now-famous opening riff that filled the room as Julian gave amazing voice to his guitar, channeling the fellow in the wide brimmed hat - the crowd resounded to the guitar lick's visceral tone, howling their approval.

As usual, the drummer Adrian set up a pocket and I could bury myself into it, focusing on both simple yet driving walking basslines. I guess the strength of the groove definitely registered on some as the owner of the bar came up to the stage and bowed-down in front of me, which was a huge compliment and also was the first time THAT has happened...! haha

It felt great, the bass just growled for me, which is something I strive to produce, and at the end of the song David put his arm around me and said, "Dude, look at the painting Norton did!" Turning around revealed an amazing painting a lion's head (straddled by a lady's legs, of course) flanked by a figure playing a highly-stylized bass guitar. In a 'shamanic moment' as David likes to call somewhat-inebriated deeply reflective conversation, we discussed the effect that my musical contribution that evening on Mr. Wisdom's painting. David asserts that my being here in San Miguel de Allende at this point in time and that meeting and playing with them is not merely an accident, but that it has a real purpose. I'm just happy to have known this evening and many others like it playing with these fellows called Vudu Chile.

With their help, the bass not only growled that night, but even roared...!

(After the Show - pic of Norton with Adrian the drummer)

Btw, if you wish to see more, Norton's website is at:

http://www.nortonwisdom.com/

He's a great guy and if you get lucky enough to have a chance to see him, definitely go!

The donkey who fell down into a well

2010-03-10T18:31:00.013-06:00

One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well..

The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do.

Finally, he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey.

He invited all his neighbors to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well. At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's amazement he quieted down.

A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing.
He would shake it off and take a step up..

As the farmer's neighbors continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up.

Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well, and happily trotted off!

Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Each of our troubles is a stepping stone. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up.

Remember the five simple rules to be happy:

Free your heart from hatred - Forgive.
Free your mind from worries - Most never happen..
Live simply and appreciate what you have.
Give more. Expect less

NOW ....... Enough of that crap. The donkey later came back, and bit the farmer who had tried to bury him. The gash from the bite got infected and the farmer eventually died in agony from septic shock.

MORAL FROM TODAY'S LESSON:

When you try to cover your ass, it always comes back to bite you.

(thanks Henry!)

f

Always Ask - Never Assume !!

2010-02-05T00:53:00.011-06:00

His request approved, the CNN News photographer quickly used a cell phone to call the local airport to charter a flight.

He was told a twin-engine plane would be waiting for him at the airport.

Arriving at the airfield, he spotted a plane warming up outside a hangar.

He jumped in with his bag, slammed the door shut, and shouted, 'Let's go!'.

The pilot taxied out, swung the plane into the wind and took off.

Once in the air, the photographer instructed the pilot, 'Fly over the valley and make low passes so I can take pictures of the fires on the hillsides.'

'Why?' asked the pilot.

He responded, 'I need to get some close up shots.'

'But Why, I don't understand?!' repeated the pilot, a bit puzzled.

'Because I'm a photographer for CNN; I need the shots the news this evening!' he insisted,

The pilot was strangely silent for a moment, finally he stammered, 'So, what you're telling me, is . . . You're NOT my flight instructor?!!'

"Life is short. Drink the good wine first"

(thanks Maribeth)

f

It Finally Happened...!!

2010-02-01T23:36:00.012-06:00

How to tell if you are really learning a language:

Today was a significant day here in Queretaro on my Mexican Adventure in that something occurred and I didn't really realize it until about an hour after it happened. Yes, it's been raining for days now and that is a very rare event during this time of year, let alone for days on end, but that's not what I'm talking about here.

I was actually thinking in Spanish...!

The reason this is notable, at least to me, is that it is when our brains are creating new neuron pathways on a large scale - the brain is literally being re-wired. This point of brain (re)development is where we start to counter the effects of aging by adhering to some basic principles spelled-out to me a few years ago.

How to tell when you are in the presence of greatness:

My friend Paul Winner, a leading neurologist studying the treatment and prevention of Alzheimer's, dementia/memory loss and other types of neurodegenerative disorders, extols the importance of keeping the brain fit the same way that we should keep our bodies fit with exercise.

http://www.palmbeachneurology.com/ourdoctors/doctors/winner.html

He gave a presentation at our last symposium that was really monumental to the event and I think everyone came away with a whole new appreciation for 'brain science' and how to make real changes in out lives that would create a real impact long-term.

He approached the microphone with the same basic questions as we normally do, however Eben Pagan, the host of the symposium, weeded-out some core issues with Paul and he struck gold when they delved into Dr. Winner's professional efforts. Paul spoke for the next 15 minutes and gave an impromptu presentation of his lab's research at that time - I think it rattled the entire room to the foundation, and I am not exaggerating this point; any of my friends reading the blog who were there can corroborate this. When he finished his synopsis, the Sheraton LAX ballroom erupted into wild applause from both a deeply receptive and appreciative audience.

To see it for yourself, google "eben pagan leadership symposium" and you should be able to find some of the event, hopefully Paul is a featured speaker (found a pic with Eben and one of his surfer-dude marketing gurus, lol - kidding bro!).

Anyway, to save you the time trying to ply out the meat & potatoes of it all, Paul gave some specific examples of how the brain dies and also, how it can be kept fit. He spoke of several examples of people he had studied over his career who were able to maintain a high degree of mental alertness, (similar to that of people of university age), well into their 90's and beyond!

He and his team had spent many years looking closely at not only the physiology of these people, but also their behaviors. While some possessed special traits that allowed their impressive faculty, the vast majority of them had developed habits that proved to be the source of their unusual mental resiliency.

How to tell if you are keeping a 'fit' brain:

(The rules for a life-long healthy brain - seriously, write these down and post them on the fridge!)

I took the liberty of putting these 'rules' into an easy to remember format that I refer to constantly. I hope it helps any of you interested in this area of human development and aging, as I have noticed a difference in my own lucidity and mental agility in maintaining as much of it as I can over the last few years.

Travel - visit a completely new place in the world at least once a year and take-in as much as you can absorb; paying close attention to new sights, sounds and smells.
Speak - learn a new language (to the point of thinking in it...!) every ten years
Switch - be sure to often change the hands that you use for things like shaving, combing your hair brushing your teeth... even playing table tennis!
Walk - exercise at least 3 times a week, and just walking is super-powerful in fighting the big 'A' ; there is a deep connection between physical and mental activity.
Play - learn to play an instrument, or sing, (or both...!). If you know how to play an instrument already, learn another!
Do - if you do crosswords, do Sudoku (or just mentally try to count your change before the cashier can tell you). If you're addicted to Sudoku, open up to the Sunday Crosswords. We need to do BOTH word and numerical exercises often, and puzzles can be a great method of stretching the sides of the brain.
Live - work hard to experience and understand new things, ideas, tastes, and even paradigms often. Your brain will thank you each time.

I hope this is as valuable as it was to me.

http://www.drwinner.org/

Remember:

"if you don't use and develop it, it dies!"

f

Irish Birth Control

2010-01-26T22:05:00.008-06:00

Mrs. Donovan was walking down
O'Connell Street in Dublin when
she met up with Father Flaherty.

The Father said, 'Top o' the mornin' to ye!
Aren't ye Mrs. Donovan and didn't I marry ye
and yer hoosband two years ago?'

She replied, 'Aye, that ye did, Father.'

The Father asked, 'And be there any wee
little ones yet?'

She replied, 'No, not yet, Father.'

The Father said, 'Well now, I'm going
to Rome next week and I'll light a candle for
ye and yer hoosband.'

She replied, 'Oh, thank ye, Father.'

They then parted ways.

Some years later they met again.

The Father asked, 'Well now, Mrs. Donovan,
how are ye these days?'

She replied, 'Oh, very well, Father!'

The Father asked, 'And tell me,
have ye any wee ones yet?'

She replied, 'Oh yes, Father!
Two sets of twins and six singles, ten in all!'

The Father said, 'That's wonderful!
How is yer loving hoosband doing?'

She replied, 'E's gone to Rome
to blow out yer fookin candle.'

(thanks Bill & Jim)

...apologies to 'Uncle Ronnie', I just loved the pic! lol

f

a winter poem...

2010-01-20T20:39:00.006-06:00

'WINTER'

by Abigail Elizabeth McIntyre

Shit it's cold!

The End

(thanks Mike)

An Old Pilot

2010-01-10T22:16:00.013-06:00

Ya think you have lived a good, long life and know who you are, then along comes someone and blows it all to hell!

An old pilot, wearing his flight jacket, sat down at the Starbucks and ordered a cup of coffee.

As he sat sipping his coffee, a young woman sat down next to him..

She turned to the pilot and asked, 'Excuse me, are you a real pilot?'

He replied, 'Well, I've spent my whole life flying biplanes, Cubs, Aeronca's, Pipers, flew a B-29 in WWII, and an F-86 Sabre Jet later in the Korean conflict, taught 50 people to fly and gave rides to hundreds, so I guess I am a pilot.'

'What about you?' he asked.

She said, 'I'm a lesbian. I spend my whole day thinking about naked women. As soon as I get up in the morning, I think about naked women. When I shower, I think about naked women. When I watch TV, I think about naked women. It seems everything makes me think of naked women.'

The two sat sipping in silence.

A little while later, a young man sat down on the other side of the old pilot and asked, 'Are you a real pilot?'

He replied, 'I always thought I was, but I just found out I'm a lesbian.

f

the Reyes Magos

2010-01-09T01:05:00.017-06:00

No Santa Claus in this part of the world
In the United States we know them as 'the three wise men' or 'the three kings'. In Mexico, they are called the 'Reyes Magos', which literally translates as 'the wizard kings'. This is significant as the Christmas season that we celebrate a bit more north of here pretty much ends after New Years Day, (called Ano Nuevo in Spanish), where folks here keep it going for several more yet.

When I returned to my work on the the following Monday, I noticed several desks open. Wondering if there had been a layoff, I was 'educated' about the holidays here in Mexico; turns out that many, if not most people take vacation all of the way through the end of the following week after New Years to observe the companion holiday of January 6th, Reyes Magos.

I guess they are starting to expect my usual expression of "what in the flying crap is that...?!" so they coupled it with a brief explanation - my coworkers are very patient with my gringo mannerisms, luckily.

Here's the skinny: Up north and in much part of the western world, there is a jolly 'ol elf, or some derivative or him, known as everything from Father Christmas to Santa Claus. In Mexico, the gifts kids look forward to do not 'magically appear' on the morning of December 25th, but rather the morning of January 6th. Also, in keeping with the much more religious observance of the holiday here, the gifts are not the the product of the kindness of ol' Saint Nick but rather the three kings of biblical fame. Obviously, the story of the nativity mentions them arriving after first seeing and then following the dang old star for several days only to arrive, turns out according to the Catholic tradition, on the 6th of January, a full 12 days later - you know, the 12 days of Christmas..!

Anyway, while I'm staring at my aircraft components being put together, a bunch of kids are having a blast tearing into their gifts that same morning, with their happy parents watching the fun. Perhaps I got the short end of that deal, but to me a beautiful new A-320 Main Landing Gear is (almost) as pretty as anything that I ever got on Christmas, except that one time my girlfriend showed up wearing nothing but a cute ribbon.... well, you get the idea. lol

A Nativity Scene for the Ages
(or what happens when you give a bunch of artists a lot of money and a large space downtown)
So on my way back from Harry's a few weeks back, I had to navigate my way through a huge operation that had literally taken-over my usual path back to my apartment, which passes through a park in the Centro Historico. Again, my usual expression of "what in the flying crap is that all about...?!" was probably apparent as I watched a large crew of workers and electricians moving massive amounts of equipment, statues, lighting and probably a mile or two of electrical cables and rope lights out of semi truck trailers and lay it all out covering the entirety of the park. It looked like the makings of a Las Vegas-style show complete with elephants.

Turns out I was not that far off...

Mary gets the news that 'the rabbit died'

Walking up towards the park on my way to Harry's to have a cocktail and type away at this laptop for a few hours, I saw a massive glow coming from its entirety, as if a group of UFO's had landed and were lighting-up the trees and creating a huge halo effect that could be seen for a quarter mile distance. As I got closer, the lighting was even more complex than I had first thought and I could see that the mile or two of light-roping had been ran upward from the ground and wrapped around each tree, with white being the most common, but also some blues here and there, (and on the far end was a corner done completely in red - "what in the flying crap is that all about...?!"). I would find that one out in due time.

Approaching the NW corner of the park, I was greeted by, of all things, a smiling donkey...
yep, you guessed it - "what in the flying crap is that all about...?!"

At closer inspection, I let out a chuckle as I realized he was getting a free wi-fi connection, of course! lol

(notice the sign at his feet)

Rounding the corner was the scene of poor Mary finding out she was going to be an unwed mom and probably have to go on welfare, luckily Joseph was a gullible guy and, well you know that part...

The entirety of the park was set up with elaborate displays that included a scene of a traditional Mexican family celebration including the making of sopes & tortillas and kids making quick work of a pinata, which showers them with lots of unrecognizable goodies. Judging from the way they were portrayed in mid-celebration, it was wasn't broccoli dropping out of it.

Another was a full-blown display of Adam & Eve in the garden of Eden, along with requisite 'strategically located' vines worn by the shameless pair, lol. This was especially interesting as it included every kind of animal they could fit, from a gorilla glowering at the passers-by to a hippo in a large man-made pond playfully floating about to the great amusement of the many kids visiting the park with their parents. It was quite clever, as they created the top portion of the hippo, probably in a styrofoam-type of compond, so you could only see the ears, eyes, nose and back floating on top of the water.

Next to that display was a depiction of the caravan of the Reyes Magos, which traditionally includes a horse, a camel and and elephant, with the color of each maji's skin corresponding accordingly also, as white guy rode the horse, the Arab on the camel, and a black fellow on (what else?!?!) the elephant... don't ask me, at least it wasn't the usual blue-eyed Jesus thing, but then again, I didn't check the kid out that closely. The Black Maji did have serious 'bling' going-on, with an all-gold robe, so he did a good job making the other two look under dressed for the occasion - hey, it's the king-of-kings; break out the tux with tails, gents!

A large section of the center display was dedicated to the manger scene, which was pretty traditional, and yes, Mary was almost vampire white in her complexion, (as was all the ladies of that region of Palestine during those days, right?). Baby Jesus was even giving the hand gesture that the Pope uses today, obviously it wasn't meant to be any kind of sign they give me while I'm driving in morning traffic, I hope.

The folks doing the display made, in my opinion, a fun change to the shepherds, as they were all Mexican peasants donned in the traditional straw hat and poncho attire of about 100 years ago. The ladies also wore the traditional shawl and scarf attire, creating a neat juxtaposition of the two cultures into a mixed-media display that was full of such fun idiosyncrasies.

The one that caught me off-guard was walking around the side of the scene of the manger and spotted sitting with several animals, was a gent dressed as a padre, complete with Luther-esque haircut and wool robes. I guess these guys were just sitting around before that time, ready to carry out the great commission. Hey, where was he when they were dragging poor Jesus off to die on Golgatha, anyway? Boy, could have used his help then!

Finally, heading out of the park and in the direction of Harry's, on the park's SW end, I was completely stunned to see before me, a truly Danteaen scene.... again, "what in the flying crap is that all about...?!"

Out of the frying pan and into the fire (& brimstone too)

I was awestruck at the artists creation showing what, apparently, was happening simultaneously down below in hell. They had constructed a representation of Satan sitting on his throne, clad in red & black robes and surrounded by several of his devils & demons, enjoying and also falling prey to the pleasures of the flesh, with all of its trappings. Each one seemed to extort one to the seven deadly sins, including sloth, gluttony, greed, and so on, much to the bemusement of the throngs of folks looking at the corner of the park.

To make it even more eerie, every five minutes a huge rat located in the middle of the display would belch out a large cloud of smoke (like the kind we used in my band - uh oh, we're going to heck for that one, I knew it! lol). Satan and his crew were enveloped into a hellish cloud and his glaring, evil smile was always just above the whole thing - very well done!

Contemplating on the display later that evening, I could not rid myself of the thought of how such a presentation of Satan and his demonic court would be received by the majority protestant Christian populace, with their puritanical approach to such matters. I would imagine it would involve protesters carrying signs, news crews broadcasting live from the 'controversial' display and culminating with a spot on Fox News and Bill O's cultural wars opinion pieces... it would probably create some fireworks indeed.

In an apropos indictment of my almost daily ritual of imbibing in wine & song, each evening I would come face-to-face with this horned & fanged, trident wielding dude with his gang of willing executioners laughing at my misdeeds and counting the days to when they would have me in their clutches to amuse themselves for all of eternity...

In my usual rebellious manner, I would simply give them 'the raspberries' as I passed by -

"pbbbbt! Take that, Lucifer! "

(yep, that showed him..!)

f

The Perfect Recipe for Christmas

2009-12-03T20:29:00.011-06:00

BE SURE TO READ THE WHOLE RECIPE AND

FOLLOW EVERY STEP CAREFULLY :-)

1 cup water

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 cup sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1 cup brown sugar

4 large eggs

1 cup nuts

2 cups dried fruit

1 (750 ml) bottle tequila (Jose Cuervo or your other favorite brand)

Directions:
1. Sample the tequila to check quality.

2. Take a large bowl; check the tequila again to be sure it is of the highest quality.

3. Pour one level cup tequila and drink.

4. Turn on the electric mixer.

5. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.

6. Add one peastoon of sugar.

7. Beat again.

8. At this point it's best to make sure the tequila is still ok, so try another cup just in case.

9. Turn off the mixerer thingy.

10. Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.

11. Pick the frigging fruit off the floor.

12. Mix on the turner

13. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaters just pry it loose witha drewscriver.

14. Sample the tequila to check for tonsisticity.

15. Next, sift two cups of salt, or something.

16. Who geeves a sheet.

17. Check the tequila.

18. Add one table.

19. Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink.

20. Whatever you can find.

21. Greash the oven.

22. Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fool over.

23. Don't forget to beat off the turner.

24. Finally, throw the bowl threw tha window, finish the quetila and make sure to put tha stove in the wishdasher.

Cherry Mistmas !

(thanks Mike..!)