El Gringoqueño

All a man needs out of life is a place to sit ‘n’ spit in the fire.

Month: July 2005

Interview with Jesus Part II

July 27, 2005 /

…And no philosophy, sadly, has all the answers. No matter how assured
we may be about certain aspects of our belief, there are always painful
inconsistencies, exceptions, and contradictions. This is true in religion as
it is in politics, and is self-evident to all except fanatics and the naive.
As for the fanatics, whose number is legion in our own time, we might be
advised to leave them to heaven. They will not, unfortunately, do us the
same courtesy. They attack us and each other, and whatever their
protestations to peaceful intent, the bloody record of history makes clear
that they are easily disposed to restore to the sword. My own belief in
God, then, is just that — a matter of belief, not knowledge. My respect
for Jesus Christ arises from the fact that He seems to have been the
most virtuous inhabitant of Planet Earth. But even well-educated Christians
are frustated in their thirst for certainty about the beloved figure
of Jesus because of the undeniable ambiguity of the scriptural record.
Such ambiguity is not apparent to children or fanatics, but every
recognized Bible scholar is perfectly aware of it. Some Christians, alas,
resort to formal lying to obscure such reality.
– Steve Allen, comedian, from an essay in the book “The Courage of
Conviction”, edited by Philip Berman

We got such a great response from the last informal chat with Jesus, we decided to follow it up with a second more formal part – well formal in that there will be questions, and we hope answers.  Jesus was very forthcoming last time, so we’re hoping to get a window in on ultimate Truth today.  Keep your fingers crossed folks.

I: Jesus, it’s nice to see you today, err I mean, ‘Jesus, the Savior, it’s nice to see you today.’

J: “Haha, that’s a good one.  (Jesus wipes a tear from his eye.) Whoo, *chuckle*.

I: So, Mr. Christ.

J: Call me Friend.

I: So, Friend, we on this planet have some burning questions for you.

J: Shoot.

I: We’re hoping you can clear up some things for us.  Maybe give us an update on your last best seller, “The Good News.”  I know you’re working on a sequel, but we’re hoping maybe you can give us a peak.

J: Be glad too.  In fact, it’s not so much a sequel as a 2nd edition.  It’s different of course, but all the basic information is there.  It’s just that it’s been nearly two thousand years, and a lot’s changed since then.  I thought an update was in order.  To some of your readers it will all seem new.  I’m trying to really get the message across to this modern age of good people who are looking for a purpose.  It might be considered a self help book, but I think if you look closely, it’s really an “other-help” book.

I: That’s interesting, care to give us an example.

J: Sure, yeah it’s super interesting and once you get it, very enlightening.  The other day, one of my children was walking into a gasoline station.  As he stepped toward the entrance, he realized he’d not looked at the pump number… you know, so he could have the cashier activate it once he stepped inside.  He strained his neck trying to figure out what pump it was, but couldn’t quite see it.  Suddenly, another of my beautiful children, a homeless man, offered that it was pump number two.  The homeless man was looking for a few cents of course, and I noted that the first man didn’t have any cash on him… which was okay.  So the first man offered him a thanks, paid for his gas, and left thinking of the homeless fellow who’d watched him intently and offered up the very thing he needed when he most needed it.  The gasoline buyer took with himself a beautiful lesson about what it means to be human, for what we are predestined, and why we exist.

I: for each other?

J: Yup, you got it.  That’s it.  Nothing more complicated or simple than that. Find a way to help.  Promote.  Don’t demote.

I: That’s a nice story.  So that’s a glimpse of what we’re going to see in the 2nd edition?

J: I think so.  I have to get with my editor.  I’m either too wordy or not wordy enough.  I never know the right balance.  I love you all, but sometimes you’re a confusing audience, and I love that by the way.  Many pore over every word looking for meaning, losing the forest for the trees.  Others just skim over parts that they think aren’t important.  As a result, I’m going to go with an old standby – the parable – it worked two thousand years ago, I think it will be successful in this age.  People seem to respond to stories very well.  I guess I just need to update them to make them more relevant.  Not a lot of people are farmers and fishers today, so that’s one area we have to update.  It is coming along nicely, though.  I think people will really enjoy it.  And for God’s sake (*chuckle*), don’t fight over it.

I: Thanks for talking with us today.  Stay tuned to this channel for more of our chat with our Friend, Jesus that cat from Nazareth.

J: Thanks, appreciate the opportunity.  Peace out.

Glass Half Empty, Cows Deny Production Problems

July 26, 2005 /

glass.pngIt was reported today in a small Midwestern town that a glass of milk was found to be half empty. 

"There was so little milk," said 12 year old Timmy after immersing his chocolate
chip cookie only halfway.  "You see, it’s all good on this side,
but this other.  It’s mighty dry, I’d say."

News crews and emergency workers were dispatched to the area to investigate.

"I’ve never seen anything like it.  Half empty?  Why when I was young, it was half full.  What is this world coming to?"

Cows
are denying production problems, but sources close to the industry,
have noted cows always deny any problems exist.  A spokescow, had
this, "I can’t speak for Timmy, but we have not had any issues with
production.  I can’t speak for the glass in question either, but
perhaps the glass size has increased.  We’ve noticed that the
glassware syndicate has been slowly increasing size for years.  I
mean, you can’t blame cows for an increase in glass size.  Can
you?"

There you have it; is a trade war brewing between cows and glassware manufacturers? 

A
researcher with the local university, confirming part of this story,
had this, "We’ve been studying the relationship between volumetric
content and receptacle utilization for some time.  Our studies
have shown great promise, but Federal grants in this field have left us
underfunded and overburdened, I’m afraid, just as we were to make some
sense of this tragedy.  Let me just say this:  there is
something going on, and someone doesn’t want us to find the truth.  Think about it.  George Bush’s father, owns stock in a company that supplies butane gas to run warehouse equipment.  This very same equipment is sometimes used to cart around boxes of glassware… even loading them on trucks to be brought right to your door.  They’re hiding something, I know it."

Can we trust our government? 
Is there a conflict of interest?  Why are they cutting funding in this important area that affects the
public health and our children?  What about the children?

These are all profound questions, questions that this reporter
will investigate until the truth is revealed.  We will work around
the clock to get to the bottom of this.

Why is the glass half empty?

How Many Articles Can I Begin with “Oh holy shit, they’re at it again”?

July 9, 2005 /

Imagine if you will a place where the boundaries between Legislative and Executive where blurred, wrapped, and crossed with the Judicial – a place of sound, a place of fury, and place signifying nothing.  You have just stepped off the boat one thousand miles southeast of Florida… somewhere into the Twilight Zone.

Tomorrow, in the semi-autonomous territory and commonwealth of Puerto Rico, a referendum will be held.  Imagine if you will in our parallel sister Twilight Zone where odd and bizarre things occur, if president of the United States, decided to hold a nationwide referendum.  At stake was the decision to change Congress to a unicameral assembly or change the form of government to a parliamentary system. 

Imagine it!  NOW!

What do you mean you can’t? 

What’s that?  You say that the president has only some limited powers over the Legislative Branch?  You mean he has veto power, which can be overridden by a 2/3 majority. You say he can set executive policy, govern the military, and write the budget?  Well, I guess.  Bush has overstepped his bounds on occasion, but even he has not tried to void the Constitution (well, without a good reason… okay, I’ll concede that too… sheesh).

So how would one go about changing the structure of the legislative branch of government?

First, the Congress would have to propose, debate, and vote on the change (2/3 majority in both houses).  Next step would be for 3/4 of the states’ legislatures to ratify that change.

I can’t imagine it’s too much different in Puerto Rico, but tomorrow, there is a referendum on changing the legislature from bicameral to unicameral.  Huh?  Wouldn’t it just be great that if every time the president didn’t like what Congress was doing he could call a nationwide vote and threaten to disband it?  What the?

Well the short of it is that in Puerto Rico the governor can’t do it either, but what he can do is propose to spend $4 million tax of tax payers’ money to execute what amounts to a poll.  If the people were to favor a unicameral legislature, the next step would be for the legislature to vote on it, then do whatever process is required to amend the Puerto Rican constitution.  Oh, yeah, but we have one more step here.  All changes to our constitution must be approved by the United States Congress.

The only reason for a vote tomorrow on this issue is pure and simple intimidation of the legislature.  It is nothing more than executive branch thuggery.  Personally, I couldn’t care less what system the legislature runs.  It couldn’t get any worse. 

But don’t kid yourself.  If anyone votes either yay or nay, it is a vote for the governor, a vote for intimidation, and a waste of money.  Don’t for one second think you’re deciding anything.  You’re just playing into the governor’s hands, perpetuating the folly, the circus, and furthering our decent into a banana republic.

Ah, but everybody loves a show.

Sensual Delights

July 7, 2005 /

I was reading over some of my old writings from around ten years
ago, when something struck me.  They were so rich with flavor, like for example, "To Build a House." 
I reflected with disappointment on my current work.  It’s so
immediate, so sparse, so "get to the point."  Perhaps it’s this
Internet age that is upon us.  I feel like it’s shaped my writing
in a negative fashion.  Where before I would indulge in the senses, the
details of a particular scene, I now hog-tie it down like a starving
maniac.  Got to get to the point, quick before someone comes along
and takes my scrap of meat.  And wild-eyed and ravenous, I babble
forth matter of fact prose like a recluse who hadn’t spoken in
years.  Bah! How lazy, how shallow, and how tasteless it has all
become. 

So, I dug up an old piece that I wrote in the North
of Spain.  I hope by posting it here, it will remind me what I
should be doing.

I met Laura in front of the cathedral in Renteria, near where we
were going to eat. She looked lovely, happy to be out in the
festivities of a Basque celebration of culture. Loudspeakers broadcast
Basque music into the echoing walls of the plaza. Young people,
intermingled with the old, gathered amongst the posters for freedom,
and graffiti covering the ages old stained stone. We walked hand in
hand to a small restaurant near the church and sat down in a small
wooden alcove. Warm deep rich paneling and beams of rough hewn logs
surrounded us. The waitress approached.

"For to start, we have mixed salad, stuffed peppers, and rice with chicken."

"I would like the mixed salad," I said.

Laura decided to have the stuffed peppers. The woman hurried off,
and I said to Laura, "I have been inspired this morning on the new
issue."

"Oh, I’m so glad for you."

"I’ve been thinking about a lot of things, and it’s got me all excited. I feel so invigorated. Everything’s flowing."

"Well, I’m just glad we’re finally feeding you, it’s probably because you haven’t eaten in two days, loopy man."

"Nevermind that, it’s the artist’s life. Seriously, I just haven’t
noticed. It’s easy to do. Other things have been feeding me, or gnawing
at me, can’t say which." I looked at her. "This issue has awakened a
lot within. I think people have forgotten."

"Forgotten what?"

"Oh, I don’t know, sensuality. It’s like Hemingway’s ‘Snows of
Kilimanjaro’ ‘…He gave them up for richer and richer women.’ It’s
like people just upped and walked away from themselves. Hell, it’s like
the entire world is walking away from itself. Spielberg’s Peter Pan,
the boy who never grew up, but did eventually. He forgot. He forgot
himself, who he was, what he truly was. He walked away and ended up
bashing fantasy, giving into the nature that says there can be nothing
separate from my experience.  To believe in fantasy is
false.  There is no magic, no wonder.  And Pan ceased to
exist."

"What a beautiful thought." She smiled at me.

The waitress
brought our appetizers, some bread, and some cider, all Basque staples.
I dug into the bread dipping it liberally into the vinegar and oil on
my mixed salad. I mopped some of the mixture from the anchovies strung
out over the top."

"Ummm, hon, can you hand me one of your tomatoes. They look really
good." She looked longingly in the direction of my tangy red garnishes.

"Sure, but only if I can have some of your sauce." I reached across
with a piece of bread and mopped the cheesy tasty liquid running out of
her pimientos rellenos. "Oh, man that’s good." She smiled a satisfied
smile at me as we dug into our food.

I said, "At least we’re both getting the bacalao, so you can’t steal any of that."

"But, I do so much like stealing your food. Maybe just a piece?"

"Okay, dear," I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, are you going to eat your olive?"

"No, you know I don’t like them. Here." I passed my olive to her
plate. "Okay you eat the olives, I’ll drink the cider, since I don’t
expect I’m going to get any help from you."

She popped the olive into her mouth. "That’s what makes us such a
good match. I eat the things you don’t like, and you finish my coffee,
tea, wine, and cider." Laura laughed.

The waitress returned and took our plates, polished clean of every morsel, every speck of food. "Man that was good," she said.

"I know," and I poured us each some more cider.

One Step Closer to the Tour de France

July 2, 2005 /

Olaia, pushed her bicycle out of the garage and down the sidewalk towards the park.

"Daddy, this is hard.  The bike is heavy.  It wants to pull me down the hill."

"Just hang on little girl.  You’re doing fine.  Okay, stop there.  Let’s wait for Jaimito."  Jaimito was pulling his Hot Cycle, trying to hang onto his Matchbox cars at the same time.  His little desires had overwhelmed his abilities and cars began to fall.  

"Daddy! Help me!"

"Here, let me put them in my pocket.  You think you can manage your Hot Cycle?"

"Yeah," he said as he picked up his "beep beeps" and I put them in my pocket.

Olaia was excited.  She hadn’t tried to ride her bike for a couple of months now.  Between the afternoon rains and the scorching summer sun we just hadn’t gotten the bike out to ride.  Actually, since I had been steadying and running behind her, it was quite a workout and since I am drenched in sweat within seconds, I’d been lazy.  "Olaia, it’s too hot today, we’ll bring your bike next time.  Olaia, it’s too wet today.  We’ll bring your bike next time."  Well, a month or two had passed and I was starting to feel more than guilty for not biting the bullet.

Today, though, the conditions were just perfect.  The day was overcast and gray.  It had rained throughout the morning and into the early afternoon, just late enough to stave off the heat, and short enough that by 6 pm it was dry. 

I was still going to get drenched from the exertion though, but I was ready.  Olaia pushed her bike the long way around the park to avoid the stairs leading to the grassy field.  Jaimito followed her and quickly took to a sprint.  He looked like he was skipping on air as he flew around the park at a breakneck pace.  I winced as I imagined him tripping and landing on the jagged asphalt.  But he made it.  I’d never seen that little boy run so fast.  He jogged up to me.

"You were fast little man!  You ran so faaaast!"

"I was fast, huh?  I’m faster."  And took off again to show me it wasn’t a fluke.

Olaia approached pushing her bike. "Daddy, I’m gonna do it today.  You watch."  She took her bike to a corner of the grassy park and labored trying to get her pedals in the right position to start off.  After five minutes of watching her struggle, I offered a suggestion.  "Why don’t you start up the hill just a little bit.  Just a little bit so it’s easier, but not so high that it’s scary or anything."

"Okay, Daddy."  I helped her up onto the bike, adjusted her pedals, and gave her a little push and let go.  Laura had told me that she’d practiced falling the last time in the park, so I hoped that at least she’d go a few feet and jump off.  But as any father, I let go with a little trepidation.  Oh, my poor baby.  I hope she doesn’t crash.

Olaia, went three feet, then six, then twenty, then fifty, and onward all the way across the park, where she gracefully dismounted as she ran out of steam.  I could hardly contain myself.  "Olaia! You rode your bike!  Oh my, that was awesome.  How did you-  how did you learn-  wow!"  And I applauded her.  She beamed her bashful smile, pleased but a little surprised herself.

Now she was determined.  The next pass she hopped up on her bike and pushed off with no intervention.  She looked like a pro, like she’d been doing it since forever.  Again and again and again, she made her way across the park on her bike, beaming and proud and as happy as could be.

She would have gone all night, if I hadn’t drawn it to a close.  Her little face was beet red by this point, her sweaty hair matted down by her helmet and sticking to her face. 

"Okay, Daddy," she said, if you insist.  Such determination in that little girl. 

And in France today, Lance Armstrong launched his bid for a seventh straight victory in the Tour de France with a powerful performance in the opening time trial.

Look out, Lance, Olaia’s coming for you!

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