Our little fishing village in the South of Texas was filled with people from afar this three-day weekend. On Friday there must have been 30 or 35 trucks and boat trailers parked down at the boat launch. Lady at the grocery store said one of the people there had stood out front and counted 11 rigs headed for Port O'C in a short time. He got tired and quit counting. I guess you could've walked across the bay on the boats. Today it got so windy that there were only about a dozen trailers parked. You can tell the Evilopolitans when they come by ... if you wave they snap their heads around to break the eye contact. Everyone in the village waves to all passersby, but for the denizens of Evilopolis exchanges with others are apparently an invitation to undesirable things -- time-wasting pleasantries that generate no profit, the possibility of defilement by contact with lower castes, something like that.
Gave a moment of thought to my heroic hillbilly forebears, who fought the hard campaign in the middle colonies during our revolt against the mother country. Battles such as Eutaw Springs and Cow Pens and King's Mountain don't get the glory accorded battles farther north, but they were crucial in the revolution.
For a couple dozen Juarenses it turned out to be a bad weekend:
At least 25 people -- including two police officers -- were found dead during the weekend in Juárez, after an e-mail warning people that this weekend would be the "bloodiest and deadliest" surfaced.
Get the details on the carnage in
the world's worst newspaper. Poor Juárez.
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