Buster's Mexican Getaway

Buster and the lovely Mrs. Gammons have just returned from another trip to Cozumel.  We enjoyed wonderful warm weather and mass quantities of food and drink.  I read a couple good books.  Friends Val & Kim and Art & Stevie joined us there, plus we made acquaintances with some other good folks, Tim & Jen and Dan & Tammy.  We all had a great time.

"Back off, Yam-Face!"

Buster's Border Patrol.  As on my last visit, I again volunteered for the Mexican army and joined a border security unit protecting the country against invasion from the Orange Menace to the north.  It was my pleasure to serve.

Eats bananas, oranges and fingers

Day of the Iguana, Night of the Emergency Room.  As previously mentioned on Facebook, down there the house "pet" is a 5-foot iguana named Pancho who lives in a palm tree beside the pool and boldly roams the grounds.  He's fond of bananas and oranges from the pool bar and happily gobbles up pieces left for him around the pool deck.  One afternoon, a young, foolish and inebriated turista decide he would hand-feed Pancho like he was a baby goat at the petting zoo.  He stuck a bit of banana in Pancho's face and the lizard promptly bit the shit out of the guy's finger.  Nasty cut, lots of blood, followed by medical attention, "I-am-a-dumbass" waiver forms, and a trip to the ER.  Always remember:  Do not put your hand in the dinosaur's mouth.


Fan Boys.  As in "fanatic," "zealot," or "maniac."  There are all kinds.  Here are a few we observed:

A man in head-to-toe Louisiana State University regalia -- LSU tee-shirt, LSU swim trunks, LSU cap, LSU sunglasses, LSU sunglasses neck strap, LSU crocs, LSU backpack, and LSU towel.  He looked like a Barney-in-paradise purple nightmare.

An aging rock 'n' roll Santa -- long white pony-tailed hair, long white beard, with old Brit-rock tattoos.  He had the Rolling Stones logo inked on his lower legs.  He had the Beatles logo tattooed on each shoulder, and emblazoned across his upper back, he wore the titles to a dozen random Beatles songs.  Rock on, Gramps!






Pence pal.  Overheard a fellow from Indiana assert that Trump "always knew" that he would not complete his first term in office, and that was part of his plan in selecting Mike Pence as V.P. -- so he could hand off the presidency to Pence the Pious when the time came.  The same guy also declared that what he liked best about Pence was that "he's strong on guns."  (He's also strong on homophobia, Bible thumping, and self-righteous moralizing.)



Gays for Trump.  Met a nice gay couple from New York.  One of them sheepishly admitted that he had voted for Frito Corleone.  (His husband/partner did not.)  Why, we asked?  Why in the world would a gay man ever knowingly vote for such an obvious bigot?  What the hell were you thinking?  "I thought he'd be good for my portfolio," he replied.  Huh?  As opposed to who?  George W. Bush?  Herbert Hoover?  News flash, fan boy --  Presidents have virtually no influence on the performance of your investments.  And don't you care about anything else?


(I wonder if the gun-nut Hoosier conservative knew he was sharing a pool with some gay guys.  Where's Mike Pence when you really need him?)

These are my chairs and umbrella.
Find your own.

Space Invaders.  They're everywhere.  The early bird gets the worm, and the early worm gets the deck chairs with the umbrella.  And I am that worm.  I made sure I was up early enough each morning to stake out my territory and snag two chairs underneath an umbrella.  Returning to my spot one day, I found it cramped cheek-by-jowl by space invaders.  It was Rock 'n' Roll Grandpa and his entire pallid family.  "Let me move my chair over," I said "and give you a bit more room."  Grandma then had the gall to ask if they could also have the umbrella!  Seriously?  How about NO!!

Dumb and Dumber.  That's what we called a pair of yahoos from Iowa who behaved as though they'd never been out of the house before.  They were eagerly over-excited about everything, and expressed their first-day amazement at maximum volume:  "TEQUILA!"  "WATERSLIDES!"  "CANNONBALL!"  (With a 4-foot pool depth, not a good idea.)  Both had wives/girlfirends who were too embarrassed to be seen with them.  Happily, after their initial revelry, Dumb and Dumber were massively hung over and sun-burnt to a crisp, and so kept a lower, quieter profile.


All things considered, it was a wonderful, relaxing vacation and a welcome time out of mind -- a Mexican mind-wipe.  But now the pampering is over and it's back to our American reality -- a corrupt, Twitter-ranting fake president surrounded by incompetent nincompoops and protected by Faux News and the invertebrate GOP.

Someone bring me a cerveza!