The truth is, I like gangsters. Some people like IRS Agents. It’s all a matter of taste, rite? The other day I was walking up a street in San Miguel and I noticed a shiny new silver Chevy truck with Texas plates. Driving it was a chico malo, muy guapo — Mex-Texican, with that cool, sleek look. My favorite kind of North American. They invented Low Riders, those souped vehicles loaded with springs so they can actually jump. Hair net chic, what can I say.
cholo style
Cuz I love the esthetic — who could think this stuff up? The T-shirt under a dress shirt with just the top two buttons closed. The guy in the truck had only one tatoo, a big boy sitting on his neck. He was wearing a white shirt, kickass shades and I somehow knew he was gangster and I got an endorphin hit.
I love that gangsters live outside the law. Inside the law can be so dreary and labor intensive. I have a recurrent fantasy in which I argue the following: if the law defines what’s okay, people who want to be law-abiding citizens should feel free. But what goes on outside the law is really none of the feds fucken business. I’d had a few when I came up with this one, entertained the idea of researching the history but I wanted to use just straight up logic to defend the theory.
In a related way, the philosophers who interest me are the ones who look at the individual and that person’s thought process, as opposed to the kind that run their mouths about society, governance. The best government seemed to be what the North Americans had working before the white guys showed up, i.e., almost none. They didn’t pay taxes, didn’t own land, teepee schooled their kids.
Not to mention they revered what the planet offered them and treated it with reverence and respect.
When you stop and think about it, the whole planet would have been better off if white guys had never left their turf but that’s another story for another day.
Back to mobsters.
I know a big part of my attraction to the mob is becuz it’s dripping with psychologically saucy stuff like danger, death, drama, excitement. Did I mention drama? When I had the flu for a month it was no real biggy, I just watched history of the mob videos on youtube.
I knew a lot of this stuff anyway, that Frank Costello
Frank Costello
was just too cool, always has been, lived in The Majestic no less on Central Park West,
dressed impeccably, walked out of a grilling saying ‘I’m not under subpoena here’ and the feds thru him in the slammer for 18 months for ‘contempt.’ That’s playing dirty, saying you don’t have to say anything unless you’re under subpoena and then they get you for having a bad attitude.
See what I mean? When you really look at things, the mob and the government are just mirror images. Most people think the gmen are ‘rite’ and the gangsters are ‘bad.’ To me, they’re all in the same business, fighting over territory, selling guns and drugs and killing people to make money.
Trust me, I realize I have a ‘bad’ attitude, like some people say. I say screw ’em, which is a saying on a plaque my best friend Danni gave me. She was typically Danni-like when she gave it to me, concerned I mite be offended. On the contrary, I burst out laughing and said, ‘Truer words were never spoken.’
It’s good to have friends who are undamaged psychologically and enjoy good mental health. People who are enthusiastic about family, for good reason. They enjoy interacting with people, like to have them around, have faith in negotiation. Wow. What a concept.
When I bitched to her that Netflix had dropped, one day to the next, all their workout stuff — this was years ago before what you want you just download. She asked, ‘Well, did you get in touch with them?’ No, I just cancelled my subscription.
Danni’s instinct is always to reach out, to dialogue. She assumes that people mean well and will want to help. I assume people are doing what’s good for them. She assumes a logical sequence of events. I assume, like Yogi said, it ain’t over till it’s over. What can go wrong will.
Big difference.
A lot of people believe in the power of positive thinking. I’m happy it’s working for them. As much as possible, I try to believe in logic. Logically, then, my problem with that ‘belief’ is why does 1/3 of the planet not have decent water? 
The garbage pickers — would they change their lot in life if they just visualized an upgrade? The other logical chaos in the theory is — it’s been my experience that people who believe in that are, on the surface anyway, but we’re all like icebergs, aren’t we, 90% under the water — well adjusted, happy-ish, easy going.
That’s the reason things work out for them. Because they are emotionally ‘appropriate.’ And part of that emotional ‘appropriateness’ is believing that things will work out.
That’s known as hope, a Christian-branded virtue. They make a point of drilling into the heads of the people they enslave. You know, even tho you’re living in misery in this life — there’s always hope for the next one!
Just keep praying or, in San Miguel, just think positive!
Easy for them to say. They’re not New York Yankees fans.
You get the drift. Hey, I’ve got nothing against a pair of perky boobs — I had a damn nice set myself once — but do they have to be so in your face? And, being a practical Virgo at heart, the last thing I want to do is to expose my still firm and unfreckled chest, from the collarbone on down, to sun. Unless you’re really careful with that, you end up with the look a former friend, and avid tennis player, sported — a thrice face-lifted, tight little mug, and a neck and chest sporting an atounding array of sun damage, freckles, moles, wrinkles.
magic in san miguel 