Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Homo Killers Rock and Homemakers Suck

A big greedy insurance company very recently conspired to find out what career makes people the happiest, so they could provide more insurance to long-living happy folks rather than short-lived sad folks. (Money-grubbing and number-crunching bastards!) Because of the intensely-evil capitalist motivations behind this research study, they failed to approach their subject with the proper PC bias of a sophisticated peer-reviewed/censured university professor. (Trigger alert: rude myth-busting reality coming up next.)

With the callous disregard for achieving specific results once called objectivity, they completed their cold research then irresponsibly blurted out the unfiltered horrifying result to the media: housewives are the happiest. (Smug, smarmy, apron-donning cunts!) Despite working more hours than other professionals, despite receiving less money than other workers, despite being brutally harassed by feminists as underacheiving gender-betraying domesticated tools of the patriarchy, these stay-at-home rebels have the gall to be happier than they should be and happier than most important PC-approved cubicle jockeys ever will be. (To the gallows with the old school bitches!)

Before the executions begin, I must confess my own complicity in this traditional perversion. As a breadwinning male, I have often found secret pleasure in buying shit for my financially-dependent woman. I have sometimes relished coming home to a healthy meal that was lovingly prepared while I was doing uber-important paper-shuffling professorial stuff. (Yes, I've been a homemaker enabler.) I've recklessly valued her contributions to our team and even made comments that made her feel as if her work was equal to mine.

When my beautiful Latina has crazily suggested that my muscles and her breasts could suggest God/Nature has equipped us for differing contributions to the tribe, I have failed to insist that we gringos with our gender-equality-requires-gender-uniformity dogma are much wiser than the 99% of human history that came before us and any cultures that currently differ with us. American political correctness is the fashion and the future. We're smarter than brown folks, nature, and God, who are all just oppressive traditionalist haters. I will somehow help the simple sentimental little woman to see the light - the cold hard light that makes gringos so smart, trendy, and miserable.

Followers of Jesus who say that the traditional family is a worthy model and even claim that folks with a homosexual orientation can find fullfillment without indulging such desires are grotesque oppressive haters who should be fired or imprisoned. Bitter aborted-baby-part-hawking feminists dragging homemakers out of their woman-cave kitchens by their hair and Muslims cheering on slaughters in gay bars are valuable liberal voting constituencies. They should be given every benefit of the doubt or sensitive spin that the media can offer. I apologize to everyone I have offended with my politically-incorrect folly. I have wasted too much time watching nature and reading scripture. Screw that outdated biblical verse "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are God's ways higher than your ways and God's thoughts higher than your thoughts." I promise to pick up a copy of Cosmo Mag and get my thinking straight. Forgive me, PC thought police, for I have sinned.

Thursday, May 5, 2016

Life Is Cooler Than Fiction

The prestigious Eclectica Magazine is publishing dual anthologies of what they consider the best fiction and nonfiction writing from the last twenty years. I'm honored to be included. Since my life makes vampires and zombies seem a mundane snoozefest, I only write stuff that's absolutely true, so the chosen story "Dying With Dignity Mexican Style" from my debut work Sacred Ground & Holy Water will be featured in their nonfiction collection. You can buy it soon. I must concur that this piece is one of the most shocking and moving passages I have ever written. It was a long descent into the abyss to write and not for the faint-hearted.

Monday, April 25, 2016

Strippers, Cactus, & Other Edibles III

Goat milk caramel and strawberries with whipped cream are common confections in Guanajuato. Yet, I’m introduced to these ordinary sweet things by an extraordinary sweet thing: a brown sugar and exotic dancer named Clementine. This girl doesn’t spend much time in the kitchen, but she could teach your grandmother some luscious ways to serve up desert. Here is how I get myself into an extremely sticky situation.

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Strippers, Cactus, & Other Edibles II

After dreams of making beautiful music with Lila Downs, I awake under a desert sunrise. Hit the road home to my ranch. Just outside the remote little village called Bravo, I turn off the highway onto a dirt road at the Corregidora Tech University. Here is where I work as a professor. The long and low sand-colored and rock-studded buildings meld into the landscape of desert scrub valley with distant blue mountains. The only sound is the wind. I savor the silence.

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Strippers, Cactus, & Other Edibles

While moving this week into a new house in the verdant rainforest that encircles my university above the Oaxacan coast, your author stumbled upon notes scribbled at the desert ranch I inhabited for two years before coming here. I think you'll find them quite interesting. The notes explain how I came to devour scrumptious desert delicacies that include much prickly-skinned cactus and one smooth-skinned stripper. Here we go with what I might call the nonfiction hunger games.

Friday, March 18, 2016

Why America Embraces A Trump/Clinton Circus

This magazine has already provided snapshots of the tiny tip of the huge iceberg that is the lifelong ideological and moral bancruptcy of Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. A word to the wise is sufficient. It's now time for wise people to come to grips with why so many Americans have enthusiastically embraced a knuckle-dragging guy with a fascist strong-man aura and a scandal-laden hag with a socialist mother-superior attitude.

Friday, March 4, 2016

Trekking the Birthplace of Food IV

The next morning, I’m driven to the small town of Coxcatlan by a new friend named Lily. She’s not exactly hard on the eyes. Our road traverses agricultural fields with multiple mountain ranges on both sides. The top ridges are stark and knobby. Heat and humidity increase until we reach the town turnoff at a fountain inscribed “Coxcatlan: Cradle of Maize.”

Getting permission to visit the cave of the oldest corn fossils means following the 5-step process required for most authorizations in Mexico: submit to authority, make new friends, wait and wait and wait. Confrontation and demands can get you results but more often get you screwed.

Sunday, February 28, 2016

Trekking the Birthplace of Food III

I spend all morning at the Museum of the Tehuacan Valley. This shrine to the history of corn is located in the former Convent of Carmen, where I stroll happily from exhibit to exhibit in a geek’s paradise. Today, the Tehuacan Valley is a dusty nook between the states of Puebla, Veracruz, and Oaxaca. Yet, people have camped here for 12,000 years. When ice-age chill dominated North America, this cave-dotted hot spot was a migrant tribe magnet and seasonal tourist destination. The museum documents a transition of humanity from hunting and gathering to irrigating and farming. Mighty important stuff for those of us unprepared to track, stalk, kill, and skin our dinner every day.

Monday, February 22, 2016

Trekking the Birthplace of Food II

Outside the bus window is a deceitful desert. Hot dry air and dusty bone-colored land totally conceal a vast subterranean river network draining the ice melt from Mount Pico de Orizaba. Bald moonscape mountains surround this Tehuacan Valley. Verdant springs pierce the dead crust in myriad hidden locations known only to odd species of cactus with swollen tree-like bases and weird species of trees with thorny cactus-like trunks. Many such plants exist only here.