Just for the record am rather unhappy with the css layout of this site. Geronimo sits and nods. His comanche compadres from Texas have come to zip coffee from Chiapas, a gesture I had to force myself do in order to appease all the elders that hang out here including grumpy grandpa who complains that they are all nothing but freeloaders. Man, am running some sort of convalescent home or something.
-Solidarity my ass I said, it all comes from my pockets ese and revenues aren’t exactly rolling in homes.
Though I caved in at the very last since my eye caught sight of some very angry Yaqui folk gathering with some Navajo folk outside by my 1956 Chevy looking at it with their magical eyes. I said, je!, pinches dólares, what are they for anyway?
The beans came the other day and like out of thin air everybody came to see the wonder beans handpicked by lacandona maya indians and they all wanted to hear the letter SubMarcos sent along.
They seem to still have a sort of a hangover because Corky Gonzales appeared in their midst. The last I heard was Qvole! and suddenly there they were, Reis Tijerina, who by the by, still owes a few thoughts at the offices of Yonder Lies It, Gloria Anzaldíºa, Chalino Sánchez, Henry B Gonzales and César Chávez. Heck, I was taken aback at the sudden presence of these great ones.
Acá in Sweden the reports of the LA Mayoral race have come in odd tones. It was brought to my attention by erudite Tomas Rivera, what’s up with that he said, cómo que gang member becomes mayor of LA?
All I could say was that I was sending a letter of protest for the inapropiate heading in that piction, though no promises are made.
That’s when I snapped, don’t you guys have anything else to do other than come to breath down my neck ese?