Weird Movie Riffs

I vaguely remember in El Salvador going over to meet Richard and Karen Lindvall who were visiting at the Buenos' house. Karen was quoting all these movie lines and Richard said something to the effect of that is the way Karen is apparently. I don't remember exactly what she was talking about but I really did not care that much to tell the truth. It just wasn't that important.

Put a lid on it

Someone really ought to put a lid on Koa Tio. The man died in China while visiting friends there almost one hundred years ago which doubtless created some complications in the execution of his last will and testament. What happened to his 20,000 pesos and Philippine real estate empire in Santa Cruz, Manila? I really couldn't care less. I suppose that one could speculate on the possibility that some of his descendants may have emigrated to the U.S. and might even be living somewhere in America. I would not be surprised if that were the case given the fact that Koa Tio was said to be loyal to the United States and had a special U.S. passport issued to Filipinos loyal to the U.S., winner of the Spanish-American War. Still, there are many "Koa Tios" here in the U.S. We are all immigrants from somewhere else and our ancestors brought with them whatever they could, I imagine, most importantly themselves. What is American treasure? Is it the pieces of eight fought over by the pirates of the Caribbean or is it the precious lives of the people themselves? Rich or poor, it matters not. American treasure is something else, something intangible, something that cannot be counted or discounted so easily. If you try to count it you would have a problem. The love of family, the loyalty of friends, faith in God, these things cannot be quantified and reduced to a balance sheet. There are times when doing the right thing does not pay so just having plenty of gold bars stashed away in a Santa Cruz vault does not prove that you alone represent what is good and right. It is more complicated than that. The United States was never a Spanish colony, fortunately for us, or we would never would have anything. We would just be slaves to some Mexican-style dictatorship, I imagine.

Visions

There are those who would conjure visions of crude and vulgar Joyce tromping across the platform in those ill-fitting army boots, F-words spewing from one side of her mouth, curses heaped curses to anyone who would ask her to remember the Bible. Any conventional motivational speaker or mother can tell you what you did wrong, but anyway it is fairly obvious that self-obsessed Joyce was born to sling pies at Harvey's truck stop, as most would prefer not to have to say in so many words. Dim-witted truck drivers really like her type of Sassycrass but we only drive cars so we really would not know anything about that. Where are the healings? The altar calls? The church? Where is the forgiveness from sin that we find in Jesus Christ? No, it's all just Joyce's big ego trip.

Which reminds me that I was never really a fan of Johnny Cash. I never had a roommate named Pam so obviously I was never all that interested in these Cash shipments. I only vaguely remember that June from New Hampshire, who lived down the hall at Evangel, was Pam Hart's roommate. I cannot begin to imagine what kind of spin June would put on whatever was said in the room given June's empty state of mind and given that June and Jan Green, who was my wicked witch roommate, were pretty much equal in terms of being too worldly wicked for Christian college.

Boring Joyce

It is hard for me to understand the enduring popularity of boring pedantic Joyce. I could not care less about ever seeing that woman in person or finding out why she has some huge chip on her shoulder against me. I just want to kick Joyce's butt away and tell her to make sure and stay out of my personal life. I recall her describing the manipulative control freak, which means that she was describing herself, obviously. Now let's see what kind of curses and evil spells that witch will cast upon me. Ha ha ha! Sometimes exercising freedom of speech can be risky and dangerous, obviously.

Ah, yes, if only I had one of those approval cards with a number on it, then I could do whatever I want to and get away with it, one might imagine. Then my mother's approval would be just automatic and notarized by affidavit. I would need to apply for native citizenship I suppose. Ha ha ha! Not really that funny actually. You could make yourself sick and dizzy hopping down these little bunny trails, as the saying goes.

The Chicken Pox

Which reminds me that I had chicken pox for an entire week when I was in first or second grade and had to stay home from school and slept most of the day with fever and chills and so forth. It happened to be the week of my birthday and so I was not able to have the birthday celebration with cupcakes in the classroom on the designated day as planned. I remember being very disappointed but life goes on. The clock does not stop just because I had chicken pox for a week. I was still a year older, obviously. Who would remember this anyway except the wicked witch Lange sisters whose backstabbing ways mean that there is no reason for us to reconnect anyway just to add more fodder to the would-be sham of pretending that we are still friends and still care to hear from each other just because we do still have your 12-year-old picture in our photo album even if we don't remember why.

No letters

I do not recall ever writing any letters to the weather girl or the teacher, especially not Miss Marken. I heard that the mothers were angry with her but, really, who cares what wicked witch mothers think. Of course if you are a state certified teacher and/or nurse with U.S. citizenship it is fairly easy for you to fend off the claws of the wicked witch mothers whenever they stage their little turnabouts and strikes and demonstrations protesting that the delinquency of their sons should not be reprimanded in any way. At least the embassy has a record of your identity in case your body is found in some forgotten corner torn to pieces. For an uncertified maid it is much less possible to avoid getting fired if the son or daughter turns or tells on you. I personally would not put so much faith in dusting and mopping skills as anyone can do that if they have to. Employment as a maid is really not any way to get ahead socially in today's economy. If that is what you were expecting you will be sorely disappointed.

Complaints

You have a lot of nerve telling me not to complain when you yourself are the worst whiners on the planet. Every day we hear reports of your shrill whining and complaining, always at our expense, and then you turn around and tell us not to bother setting the record straight after you have set everything on edge and turned everything upside down and inside out so that everything is all skewed helter skelter and connections fabricated that never existed in the first place and your vain imaginations coddled and pampered to such an extent that you don't remember anymore what is right and wrong, what is good and bad. We were not expecting a rose garden, obviously, so there is no need for you to imagine that we would lay any claim to your prickly patch. You do not have anything that I really want or have to have so you will not presume to tell me not to tell it like it is, thank you very much.