The Chicest Burberry Bag

Sold exclusively in Mexican street markets. I could kick myself I didn't get one.
The height of chic.

Take Me to the Pilot

Every time I come back to NYC on a plane, I notice that, as it approaches the airport, the plane starts spinning around New Jersey in a holding pattern. I don't like this. So this last time, coming back from Mexico City, the pilot makes the following reassuring announcement:
"Ladies and gentlemen, because of the high winds, the authorities at JFK decided to change the orientation of the runways, which means that we need to be put in a holding pattern for about 45 minutes (something like, while they figure their shit out). You will see planes above and below us. We will do our utmost to steer clear of these planes. "
Gee, thank you, man. Please go ahead and do your very utmost not to crash with another plane in mid-air while I'm sitting here, why don't you.
Frankly, I don't know what is better. The pilots who don't bother to tell you that you are going for a carousel ride as you can see Manhattan in the distance, or the garrulous ones like the above, which explain way too much.
In any case, we were given permission to land shortly after that and I just decided not to look out the window.

Mexican Japanese Peanuts: The Saga Continues

Beloved readers: I have a stash of three big bags of Nishikawa Mexican Japanese Peanuts.
I doubt they will last until the weekend.

Max Roach

Unfortunately, I'm not talking about the famed Jazz drummer, but about a humongous cockroach, lying on her back in my kitchen floor, a la Gregor Samsa, upon my return from Mexico. I greeted her with a piercing scream.
Why are these creatures so big, so vile and so ugly? The roach appeared very dead, but then it started moving and squirming. How did she get on her back, I have no idea. I also had no idea about how I was going to get rid of her, as I was paralyzed with disgust. I sprayed her with a pretty generous dose of anti-roach poison, which I breathed in as well. She contorted, agonized briefly and died. I threw a paper towel on her in lieu of Christian burial, then sprayed some more poison over that, and then scooped the whole thing with a scooper and threw her down the chute.
Roaches disturb me greatly. I'm very upset.

Let's Boycott Red Bull

For the height of marketing stupidity, nothing can beat what I saw happen on a Friday afternoon in Mexico City.
As a prelude, I must tell you that the traffic in Mexico city is now officially a giant knot without exit, end or solution. If people thought it could not get any worse, it has and it is beyond human comprehension.
It is not helped by the absolutely stupid attitude of drivers, who contribute to it by throwing their cars at any free space without any regard for traffic laws or the right of way or even daredevil pedestrians.
So in comes some marketing/advertising genius who decides to unleash a flotilla of about 15 Minis decorated with the Red Bull colors, driven and peopled by a bunch of third rate female models (as is customary of all marketing promotions in Mexico), all the cars bearing a giant Red Bull can in the back, all honking their horns doing spins around the block, creating more traffic, more noise and more pollution, as if Mexico City didn't have enough already. I was hoping the police would stop them, but no such luck. Who gave, if any, permission for such a retarded stunt? I was sitting at an outdoor cafe when this happened and to judge from everybody else's grimaces this moronic campaign did not do much to endear us consumers to Red Bull. Quite the contrary. To which I say, I'm never drinking that shit again. And I urge you to do the same.

Ces't ne pas possible!

Only in Mexico:

I am taking my morning constitutional at the magnificent Parque México in the fabulous Colonia Condesa where I was born and raised. I run into my old dance teacher, who still is and looks stupendous. I visit that fabulous fountain with the mini-waterfalls, I say hello to the ducks and the geese in the pond, I even do some tai chi in the shade of this gorgeous art deco park.
As I'm walking home, two women approach me and ask if I speak French. "Badly" I say. Do I read it, they ask and I say yes. So they give me this little magazine, a pamphlet in French about the perils of the internet for the jeunesse. Published by none other than the Watchtower Society. That is, the Jehovas' Witnesses.
It was great reading, and wonderful practice for my (as we say in Mexico) macarronic (puny) French, but can somebody explain to me WTF? Why distribute pamphlets in French randomly at passersby in a park in Mexico?
Such are the surreal mysteries of my country.

Greetings from the "failed state"

It sure don't look that failed to me. Mexico City is magnificent and thriving, the jacaranda trees are in bloom. It certainly doesn't feel like Iraq, a truly failed state thanks to American intervention there, hello?, or like Afghanistan, which is a medieval dump. Or like Zimbabwe, or Sudan which are still rotting and festering like open wounds without anybody doing anything about it. Mexico is nowhere near that.
So there is absolutely no justification calling Mexico a failed state. It is grossly offensive in fact to call it that. But it just goes to show the ugly American aspect of the gringo. Not only more than half responsible for the problem, but hypocritical, arrogant and ignorant, to boot. I have never been an anti-yankee. I'm not the kind to blame America for everything. But this is too much. You guys should take a good look at yourselves before casting such aspersions. Why is there so much demand for drugs in America? Why can't anybody come up with an intelligent solution to cripple the drug business? Instead, it's blame it on Mexico. Patronizing, toxic bullshit is what it is.
Mexico has a lot of problems, but it is also a great country. With a great history and a great culture and great people, so fuck off.
It is amazing to me that Americans still have not a clue about Mexico. Mexico gets absolutely no respect from the US. None. Americans think it's a third world country like all of them are the same, they think it's Spring break and mordida and banditos and slushy margaritas. But I guess Americans treat the rest of the world as some kind of lowly subordinate that exists just for the amusement and enrichment of America.
I've had it with this crap.

The solution to all the drug problems in Mexico.

Pinches gringos: STOP BUYING DRUGS.
And for all of youse who think Mexico is a failed state, here's a cogent response from Enrique Krauze.

Hitting your head hard

Poor Natasha Richardson. My sympathies to her illustrious thespian family.
Her story reminds me of something I witnessed recently and now I am mortified about.
I went ice skating at the rink in the Houston Galleria shopping mall a couple of months ago. In this particular rink you skate at your own risk. There is nobody on the ice to keep order or give aid, which I think is extremely wrong. The rink was almost empty, but as is usual with skating rinks, there were several groups of people who had never skated on ice before. There was a small group of Latino kids who were hanging from each other for dear life. They were all very annoying, as teenagers always are. This slightly chunky girl kept falling over and over. She was hopeless. They were all laughing their heads off. At one point, this girl fell head first onto the ice. She hit herself hard on the back of the head. It sounded like a wrecking ball hitting concrete; a thump so loud and sharp and dry, it made my own skull hurt. I could tell it hurt a lot, from her trying to save face while rubbing the spot, but they were all laughing like idiots, and she seemed to be fine. She was trying to laugh too. A few seconds later, she was back on her feet again, looking normal.
Today I'm thinking, first, I should have asked her if she was okay. Second, I should have told her to go to first aid and have her head checked. I hope she is not dead or in a coma.
And from now on, I'm wearing that stupid helmet when I bike.

Iron-Clad Stupidity

Obviously, the talented executives at AIG have absolutely no regard for the public relations catastrophe that their obscene behavior is inflicting to the company. After this bizarre performance, who in their right mind would consider doing business with these bozos? Would you trust them as your insurance company?
Bank of America was the first to air a grossly indecent (and very expensive looking) commercial about this being America and the bank helping to open doors, presumably to all those people it foreclosed by selling them evil mortgages. It's called spin, advertising, brainwashing, however you want to name it. I'm sure that right now nobody is so gullible or clueless as to believe it, but B of A thinks it has to do it to keep afloat what's left of their good name. That it makes people gag is another story.
Yesterday I saw another such commercial, an epic, fake-emotional wonder from General Electric, trying to remind people why their stock should not be costing 9 bucks. "Imagination at work" is right.
AIG seems oblivious to such concerns.
Which makes me wonder whether the man who is leading it is not damaging it even more. Instead of claiming "iron-clad" legal obligations, which legal experts have all debunked as utter crock, he should be setting an example for his troops and either firing them or telling them to surrender their bonuses voluntarily. Or as that senator said, politely suggest they commit hara-kiri. He should be fired as well.
The American public is outraged not only at the sheer audacity of the nerve, but also at being treated like morons by these people. As if insurance companies don't do whatever is in their power not to respect their side of the contract when someone comes down with a catastrophic illness or has a "preexisting condition" or there is an "act of God" like Katrina. There is no lost love between those creeps and the American customer, but if you look at the tropes of insurance advertising they are all about honesty and trust and safety and empathy and being in good hands and all that crock of bullshit designed to make people think they are not putting their lives and limbs at the mercy of ruthless, heartless crooks. As Jay Leno said, AIG stands for Adventures In Greed.
We may be bailing out this stupid company, but will it ever survive its bad name?*

*And will the Obama administration ever survive it, now coyly feigning innocence and outrage.
Larry Summers is a chazer (a pig; everybody must learn Yiddish already) and Geithner is no better.