Sunday, May 09, 2010

Sand Sex

One week and three days into our new digs and not one shark attack, drowning or oil spill.  

Must admit that in the first 48 after reaching this island we both were so bummed by the move and heat that we had not even set toes in salt water, much less got with the sand, surf 'n sun stuff. In fact, while Michelle unpacked and rearranged, I mostly sat like a slug in a stupor or slept drooling on a pillow. Since then, however, we have not missed a day in the drink. The water is clear and warm like a swimming pool. The entire island is one great sand beach of palms and pelicans and all we have to do is walk, creep or crawl to it, which we are doing now with neatness and dispatch.

As for my daily bike ride, there are pluses and minuses. There is only one road on the island and a round trip from tip to toe is about 10 miles, I allow. There is more traffic than on my old route back in the gator jungle but most everyone here drives sanely on these tiny winding curves and there is little risk to my longevity. And the road itself is like some sort of heavenly conveyor belt. Imagine a flower shop. Now imagine a flower shop five or so miles long. The entire route to and fro is festooned with purple, blue, red, white, and yellow blooms, hanging lushly from trees or growing in gobs from bushes. The fragrance for the entire trip is . . . well, it is like flower shop. A low canopy of mangroves covers much of the road making it cool, moist and tropical. Weirdly, I have already spotted coons dashing across the road, a squashed possum, and squirrels running on the wires overhead. Zero buzzards. Alas, I have also counted two snakes flattened in the road. I suppose the only way to escape these slithering devils is to move to Ireland.

Manasota Key is so narrow in places that one can literally throw a coconut east and hit Lemon Bay, then throw another coconut west and hit the Gulf. Yesterday, as Michelle and I lay on the sand with the surf washing over us, tiny sandpipers fed so close to us that we could have almost caught them. In a word: Life is Good. If it gets any gooder, just shoot me before I explode.

Viva Arizona

The federal government's defacto open door policy concerning illegal aliens these past twenty years may be good for Wall Street and Walmarts but it totally blows if you are a 'Zonan barricaded behind your own doors in Tucson and your community has been overwhelmed by Spanish-speaking crime. The usual suspects--the Feds, the media, the multiculturalistas--are predictably down on Arizona now because the people dare stand up for themselves.

If "our" federal government actually gave a Rat's A about its own people, it would have long ago brought home the U.S. Army from the wilds of the Middle East where they are doing far more harm than good and sealed our border tight with Mexico. After shooting or droning the first dozen or so illegals attempting to cross over, the problem would solve itself. Word would soon spread south that the gringo fatsos are serious this time.

And BTW: Since the Mexican government's answer to rampant over-population and unemployment is to send its starving hordes north to invade us, I suggest we also use our army to invade that pitiful-excuse-of-a-nation and unseat the pack of corrupt criminals in control. Just like Manuel Noriega of Panama, once we tree these coons off they go straight to jail here in Florida. We then 1) set up our own puppet government just like we do everywhere else around the world, we 2) force Mexican baby machines (women) to have their tubes tied and we 3) "encourage" Mexican men to keep their rockets in their pockets. No more 15-20 children per hut when the parents cannot even provide for one child. And if the Pope don't like them tacos, we invade the Vatican and throw him in jail too.


Future Car of the Day