Pore ole Mexico continues its disravelment in astonishing ways. Gangsters are snatching people off buses in northern Mexico and killing them, apparently just for the pleasure of killing. Dashiell Hammett, in Red Harvest, called that kind of gleeful violence going blood simple, and some movie guys appropriated the phrase for a movie title. It's sad to remember that Mexico was once the place we wanted to run off to. Not ten years ago, I was looking at property in Yucatán and dreaming of huevos motuleños and morning coffee at the Express in Mérida. Some music from the old days, when Mexico was more romantic than tragic.
And a funny, sorta, piece about wild boar in Berlin city limits. We can sympathize with the Berliners and their pig problem. Ck it out here on the BBC.
And a blog comment that I liked: '[C]ivilization is defined by the presence of musical instruments, alcohol, and literature, in that order.' And, so, another little copita of tinto for me, and maybe a bit of book and a tango CD.