Ain´t gone happen Gringal, Darlin' and you know it. These morons could not adjust to life in Chiapas and, as much as I am fond of you, do not pretend to place the Bay Area on a scale with the Soconusco. We are not on the same planet and I say that as one whose life in the <Bay Area started in 66 and ended in 01. Rise above the crackers with whom you have ostensibly affiliated. They are unworthy of your trust.

This boy first traveled in Mexico in the 1960s fartbrain and when I first visited The Yucatan there were no improved roads and the local yokels were as backward fascistic and isolated as the folks on the Bay of Arcachon in France or the peasants who built their stone shacks along the narrow gauge railroad from the French border to Barcelona when General Franco was still sticking hot pokers up the asses of Republican Commie Sympathizers so don´t try to lord it over the Fat Boy who remembers Idi Amin in all his glory and was nearly plugged full of lead by the thugs associated with the Lion of Judah in Addis Ababa in 1969 when he so much as looked askance at the presidential palace and you may live a thousand years in your small wonderland having married into a Mexican family and feasted on two-bit tacos but you will still not have spent the time climbing Mount Kilimanjaro or wandered the cinnamon and clove and cashew nut forests with Dawg on Zanzibar nor sipped strong tea in Darjeeling or Calcutta before strolling the sewers of places from Madras to Bangalore Puntbrain. Partake of the joust with those who have ventured nowhere nor seen rats climb out of toilets in Kathmandu after partaking of hashish laced oatmeal in places of which you can only dream. When it comes to experiences, you are the Birmingham Barons and Dawg is the New York Yankees.