In Crowd

If you have what it takes, The Red Taxi system is the ticket.  I have what it takes.

A mile later, I said Aqui Nada Mas, and handed him 10p.  He handed me 5p back.  There was a hint of salsa verde on my 40 cent coin.  The Big Woman let me out.

The kid with the cast got off at The Crucero.  A woman appeared, and handed the driver an order of tacos.  An old lady with a cane and a basket full of orange flowers slowly made her way into the back seat.  I stayed focused and memorized my line.

The perfume and cologne combinations were working perfectly.  Somebody in back spoke on what was probably a refurbished Iphone3.  A ton of everything goes down in the morning hours, and this morning was no different.  Action and Energy were peaking.  The sun low.  The hope high.  By 1pm, it’s usually time to duck & cover.

Five minutes down the way, the driver pulled over for The XL Woman, and her pregnant friend, who also was carrying a toddler.  I had experience making this kind of split decision, so I quickly ran the scenarios and scooted over.  As I figured, the pregnant lady with the little one got in back, and Queen Latifah squeezed in the front seat with me.  My left kneecap was directly in line with second gear.

No more than 50 feet into my ride, he stopped for a young mother with two kids.  One kid she held in her arms, the other was a uniformed kid with gel keeping every hair in place.  They were walking to school.  The five year old conversed with the driver as if they were related somehow.  It was pretty cute.  At the top of the hill, the driver stopped in front of the schoolyard and all three got out.  They paid nothing for the lift.  One other young man got in.  He had a cast on his left arm.

Back to Red.  So I jump in the front and say Buen Dia to the driver and the person in back.  It was 7:45am.  The driver had the radio on loud.  A little bit about the driver for what it was worth to me.  He looked just like Larry Bird.  But with black hair and dark skin.  Unlike Bird, both his thumb & pinky nails on both his hands were an inch long.  Creeepy!  His reason for doing this seemed like none of my business.  Jesus trinkets dangled throughout the dashboard arena.  The Red Taxi has a playlist of horn sounds; Each sound has a different meaning.  Pay attention!

The Red Taxi sounded.  I looked back and gestured Yes.  I did a quick survey and hopped in front.  I am new to The Red Taxi system this year.  In the past, when the time came for me to hail a cab, it was always The Dark Green kind.  The Dark Green Taxis will personally drive you just about anywhere around town for about $2.  Anything you need to take with you can either be crammed in, tied down, or hung out a window.  You can bring your pet into this taxi.  You can bring a bag of cement in this taxi.   I hear that if you go directly to the morgue or cemetery, you can bring a dead body in this taxi.  It’s basically your automobile for the taking.

IMG_6306    IMG_6316    IMG_6378

Take Down This R(x)ecipe

My old friend Cy, who sometimes posts up in my Attic, had the Nerve to start in on me once again.  At times he can be a real pain.  Instead of dealing with him au natural, I decided to try a different R(x)ecipe.  I had heard time and time again that the drug stores in PE can be much more liberal with their products and services, if you know what I mean.  And there are as many pharmacies in this town as there are places to get your haircut.  And let me tell you, there are more freaking places to get a haircut in this town than there are fish in the sea.  So, sans shoes or shirt, I walked into this random ‘hole in the wall’ pharmacy to see what I could get my hands on.  In Spanish, I asked the young man if I needed a doc to write me up an Rx for one pain pill.  Just one I said.  He closed out his Facebook account, turned the Eminem volume down a bit, and asked me what hurt.  I told him my back was killing me.  He said that all he had in stock was 50mg tablets of Tramadol.  No Way, you’ve got Tramadol?!?!  I told him that Tramadol was my preferred Rx, especially with a couple of beers, and double especially after a good win on Sunday.  He didn’t get that part, but half-laughed anyway.  Again, I told him that I would be happy to come back with a written script from Dr. Pepper knowing DP would write up an Rx for any reason.  The pharmacist told me not to sweat the note, and handed me ten tablets for 70 pesos.($6)  I reached into my bathing suit and could only come up with 41 pesos.  A bit tight in the cash department I thought to myself.  Hunching my credit would be gold, I still continued with my audition and I told the man that I would return later.  He told me I could pay the balance manana.  And Bingo was my Gringo.

Pick My Poison

Buenos Dias lasts until about 10 in the morning.  It seems that Buenos Dias begins and ends when the roosters say so. Then comes Buenas Tardes.  Buenas Tardes sticks around longer than you think it should.  There really isn’t a time limit on Buenas Tardes, but typically around dark is when Buenas Noches gets fired up.  Though there are sure to be some that might not begin using Buenas Noches until around midnight.

That is why I stick to Buena-uh-huh.  It can work anytime anywhere.  To ensure its effect, it should be confidently mumbled .  [Hold that Thought]  If it’s 8am and clearly a Buenos Dias moment, as an elderly man or woman is coming my way, then of course I greet them with a proper Buenos Dias.  But 19 out of other 20 times that I become aligned with the need to personally salute another, it’s Buena-uh-huh out of this guy.

This Song Has No Title, Just Words and a Tune

it was a young girl.  she was a wearing a red tank.  couldn’t see her from the waste down because she was on the other side of a waste high, unfinished cement wall.  she was standing on the dirt street in the hot sun.  i was on my computer with the fan on medium.  

i had been down this path a million times prior.  at least a couple hundred.  i knew she had food.  i knew about what it would be.  she would call them quesadillas even though you and me would know them as taquitos.  beads of sweat had taken over her pre-adolecent face.

she asked for a very small sum of money.  i handed her twice that much.  i could see it in her eyes that she was happy and loving.  i could tell by her garments that she was doing her very best.  for a brief two minutes, i felt that she and i meant the world to each other.

Jamaal Charles

Oh Crap!

the wi-fi went sour, i had less than one half hour

time trialed to The Cafecito, ordered the veggie burrito

mopped up all the sweat, logged onto the internet

with 45 seconds to spare, i leaned back in my chair

a ghost town was around, spanish was the sound

60 seconds on the clock, I should have done a mock

but then i heard His voice, the Mighty Allahs choice:

Do Not Go White, Do Not Be Dumb,

Be Sure To Draft The Speedy Muslim!

Aa to Z Puerto





El Balon

Fifteen 2



















Yo Tambien


Trix are for U.S. kids

We have been taught in The States, when choosing to buy anything perishable, to grab from the back.  Least I have.  Need some milk—grab the one towards the back.  Same holds true for yogurts, eggs, tofu, etc..  Like I said, perishable items.  US supermarkets and the like receive new shipments of whatever, and strategically shelf them so that they save on spoilage by making the most likely to spoil product most handily available to the idiot end user.  Example:  Today is Friday The 13th.  Safeway has just received a shipment of previously frozen eggs laid by hens that have been eating their own shit for years.  The eggs are supposedly good until Friday the 27th.  The eggs that are front and center expire on Wednesday the 18th.  Joe CattleCall Homeowner buys those ones because somehow he wasn’t taught any differently.  He goes home, and a week later he makes a big ol’ six egg omelette.  It tastes great and nothing bad happens.  Au Contrair Mon Frere! 


I’ve been coming to Puerto Escondido for years.  I’ve come to learn a lot of things about nothing.  They call it trivia in the US.  Then they make a game out of it, and several people make a ton of money off it, and millions of people waste a lot of their time playing it.  Where was I going with this?  Oh, learning lots of things about nothing.  So here it’s different when it comes to choosing your perishables.  If you choose your Milk from ‘Five Milks Back’, that Milk is sour, and if you go home and pour some all over your Frosted Flakes, it’s going to make you sicker than a dog.  That’s why you choose the one in front.  Just like if you buy cookies or chips from any of the thousands of “Room Temperature Tiendas” that line every road in Mexico, it’s the cookies in front that are the fresh ones.  The ones in back have been there forEVER.  For years I would always pull from the back, and consequently never got a fresh bag of Lords.  Those would be Spanish Oreos.


Reader:  What’s Your Point Guy?

Writer:  Not Quite Sure Guy!

Cepillate los dientes!

He showed me his teeth.  The ones in the jar.  The ones he pulled.

I observed them real closely.  I asked if it hurt.  The ones he pulled.

I went home that night and smiled extra wide in the mirror, admiring how nicely my teeth had aged.  I wondered whether, when I became an old(er) man, if I would be the guy that walked the Bridge which connected the Crown that was hiding in the Root Canal, OR was I going to be the dude that just yanked the fuckers out when I couldn’t take it any longer.  I thought about the tooth fairy and how that might affect her bottom line.  I thought about how many years removed it might well have been since I had gone to the dentist, had that dentist not been the commissioner of my fantasy football league.  I thought about the insurance companies skimming the top, middle, and bottom.  I thought about how long I would have to bare the pain before the tooth would be rotten enough to where it could be wiggled free with a pair of needle-nosed pliers.  And of course I thought about why we call them pairs of pliers OR pairs of scissors, when we really only mean one pair.  There, I did it again.

Sir Isaac Newton

I removed my sunglasses out of respect for what I was about to hear.  I didn’t want to take them off, but did it anyway.  The middle aged man was about to tell me that when he died, he wanted to me to guard his 360 gig hard drive.  I gave him that look.  He was serious.  I was thinking about the title to this blog.  He told me it was going to contain compiled information that could possibly change the course of our universe before the course of the universe becomes unchangeable.  I gave him that look.  He was dead serious.  I asked him to give me a little more info.  He told me that he has been compiling very important information, much of which can be found on the internet,(if you knew where, and dared to look) and much of the information is conclusive evidence that he has personally documented based on his compulsive compiling Efforts.  “much of it is in video form,” he said.

Obviously, my next question was, “What am I supposed to do with this hard drive, and what am I supposed to do with this hard drive when it is MY turn to die?”  He wanted me to guard it with my life, and that if I was still alive in 2060, which we both determined was easily possible, [and no sooner], I should bring it to either Jon Stewart or his predecessor.  “But Aaron, this is very crucial information that needs to be shared with as many human beings as possible.”—“And you want Jon Stewart to have this information…Why him?”—“I’m akin to his delivery.  He will be able to make perfect humor of the certain demise that will be plaguing and crippling our species,” the middle aged man replied.  I just sat there jaw open.  The grey haired man offered up some Kirkland Mixed Nuts.  I spotted a pecan, and made that my first nut.  I began to think about climate controlled hiding spots.



I’m cracking.  I’ve cracked.  Things began getting dicey around the new year.  Mid January brought some hope that it was just a bluesy blip.  By early February, I was regularly playing handball with my own shit.  All hell broke loose by the middle of February.  I’d say that is right about when the straw hit the camels fan.

I am in desperate need of some homogenization.  White on white.  $5 milkshakes.  Hot showers.  Cold rain.  Cameras on 41st Ave.  Shoes & Socks.  Jackie Greene.  Sierra Nevada on tap.  Loyal teammates.  Family & friends.  Cuz everything and everybody here is wayyy too Down to Earth, and I simply can’t take it any longer.