Don't Listen to TS Eliot, Plus Southern Italian Culture and It's All One Big Happy MEXICO!

[mallorys_camera]

Never mind what that straitlaced old ailurophile Thomas Stearns Eliot says—April is just the friendliest, kindest, most solicitous month ev-vah ‘cause I was born in it!

Though the next few days is kind of a slog through Garden of Gethsemane before I begin the ascent up the Mount of Olives that leads to—whoa! how can it be?—my 67th birthday: So many people I’ve loved died in the first few days of April.

Shortly, I must begin searching for my dusty bottle of Laguvulin to toast Tom. Dead 24 years on April 6. No-o-o-o. What?

And my mother—18 years dead!

(Well. My mother… )

And other people.

###

Drake in his tweeted eulogy to Nipsey Hussle—shot yesterday! Not in time for the early April death parade, tho—sez: I want the world to know I saw you as a man of respect and a don…

A don?

Jesus. That whole black worship thing for Southern Italian “culture” is deeply weird.

I’m Southern Italian. And actually related to a couple of low-level mobsters. My half-brother Dane, for example, was a low-level enforcer for a seedy Las Vegas casino before he decided to go straight. (Turned out he’d contracted Hep C, so his subsequent redemption arc as an HVAC contractor got cut short. He dropped dead rather suddenly of liver failure. Not in early April.)

There’s nothing redemptive or worthy of emulation about Southern Italian culture.

Southern Italian culture sucks.

###

Else?

This appeared on America’s most popular TV news channel:



The talking heads were discussing t-Rump’s exceedingly ill-thought decision to cut off foreign aid to El Salvador, Guatemala and Honduras.

Welcome to socialist Central America, suckers!

Or World War III. Whichever comes first.

Spent all day yesterday writing a piece on the differences between single-payer (broad category) and Medicare for all (subcategory) during which I got to compare and contrast the American system of healthcare delivery, the Canadian system of healthcare delivery and the British system of healthcare delivery.

That was boring.

Almost done with the June-goes-to-Famous-Players-Lasky section of the Work in Progress. Why is this taking so long to write?

In the evening, had a longish phoner with Max who had just gotten back from a speed-tour of Arizona and Utah’s national parks. Max and Mia are coming east in July; I floated the idea of possibly renting an Airbnb on the Jersey Shore for a few days while they’re here, inviting RTT down, maybe Nathan & Kristen, too.

“What do you want for your birthday?” Max asked.

“I want you to spend a perfect day of happiness,” I said.

I wasn’t being mawkish and sentimental, either.

What I really want is for John Beresford Tipton to cut me a certified cashier’s check for one million dollars and for Michael Anthony to deliver it.

(I was ruined by TV at an early age.)

Since that seems unlikely to happen, I wanna keep clutter to a minimum.

Comments

[asakiyume]

Three Mexican countries LOL LOL LOL. That explains the map I saw moving around Twitter:

[mallorys_camera]

I immediately stole that for FB repost! But did give you credit. :-)

[asakiyume]

hahaha no worries; I stole it from my son who got it who knows where!