Which Reminds Me

Yes, I vaguely recall 2 or 3 years ago running across a missionary article that explained the group mentality of Mexicans. Now if only I could remember the volume and page number. What magazine was that anyway? Of course Irene and Ivonne are not exactly Mexicans and yet I sometimes to hear that foul demon spirit hissing through their channels. Not exactly a Mexican demon then but still you cannot really learn the path of salvation reading Dante's Inferno. It might scare you enough to not want to go there but the anatomy of hell is not a subject to revisit after high school, thanks anyway. Been there done that.

Fight Picking

Anyway, I was not planning to pick a fight with anyone in high school. They were such scary rich people, unbelievably nasty and mean to me in every way, I would rather just leave the country. I doubt that I would ever have any reason to return there anyway. I will go back to the U.S., attend college, get married and have my children and then retire to anonymous oblivion in some place of which they would never be aware as I doubt that I would ever move in their exalted Spanish social circles. It is not like high school people are that important anyway. Maybe in 30 years I will attend the high school reunion and see what happened to everybody, who married who, and that is about all there is to say about high school. But if they want to fight about something it would help if they could more clearly explain to somebody what exactly it is that I am supposedly lying about because I really don't remember anything specific. I mean, punctuation is important but, anyway, if you have nothing intelligent to say then adding lots of commas and semi-colons just isn't going to help.

Lack Of Sympathy

Everyone seems to have forgotten what nasty people there were among my high school classmates. Take, for example, those snarky dogs Irene and Ivonne. Such horrible snobs they were. There is not one good thing that I remember about them to like, just that they were there. They tend to run in packs like dogs, which explains the sharp fangs, but they sadly have no ability to think for themselves as individuals. They are shameless liars but as they are all colluding in their slander of me who can prove otherwise? It is just my word against theirs. They can sit around plotting against me and saying nasty things about me behind my back I imagine because I am just a white person anyway and not nearly so wealthy, only a missionary kid, a lonely Protestant drowning in a sea of clueless Catholics, and get away with it because they are rich and I am poor. They would not be living in the United States now if their families were not incredibly wealthy even by U.S. standards, unlike myself. Unlike myself, they have all kinds of money to pay for Freemason membership for a quick entry they imagine into U.S. society even though lots of U.S. citizens have not much use for that sort of pretentious highfalutin' gobbledy-gook and deeply resent being forced to pretend that we were ever friends with Freemasons when actually not really so much. We were high school classmates but there is only so far that sort of occultic nonsense will get you when the Christian witness ought to be your top priority. You cannot serve two Masters at once or you will end up despising one or the other.

Which Reminds Me

Years ago about the time that I was working at a community newspaper nearby, I remember that the New Times or one of those alternative newspapers did a huge cover story on the problem of French Canadians. The article went on and on in their most artlessly "Yellow" way about the problem of this flood of horrible French Canadians coming down here to South Florida winters and filling the beaches and stores and parks with their rude and nasty presence. I might not have noticed the article if Bonnie, another reporter, had not pointed it out in the newsroom. Bonnie was loudly talking about it and emphatically agreeing with the general point of the article, heartily sharing as she did this media hatred of French Canadians in Bonnie's extreme way. I was shocked that Bonnie would say it that way, but, well, that was how Bonnie was. Bonnie was really much too extreme. I would never think of saying that sort of thing in print but apparently Bonnie is not shy about such things. I had forgotten about that but obviously someone has forgotten to mainly ignore Bonnie's big mouth. It just wasn't that important.

Which Reminds Me

When my sister and I were young girls our relatives gave us each a $2 bill. I might still have mine, I don't remember. Incidentally, the $2 bill was devised as currency for betting on horse races, which is something that my relatives apparently enjoyed doing. However, as for myself, never in my life have I bet on a horse race. I cannot afford to lose that much money and I just don't have that kind of "in" on the horses. However, it was nice of them to give me a $2 bill.

Welcome to my MIserable Life

I declined to perform on the piano at the Sanchez shindig at their house. It was embarrassing the way they were trying to egg me on to perform because I was not expecting that and not prepared. And besides I am really not that good so they should not have so many expectations. But foreigners like the Sanchez are always so impressed with the persnickety airs of snooty New Englanders, which of course only proves they are yet foreigners in their own minds. They do not seem to understand that the rest of us are often not at all like New Englanders. Many U.S. citizens never read a book twice and never want to think that much about punctuation after college, let alone ever set foot in New England. Book dissection and autopsy skills generally are not useful unless you are applying for admission to some pretentiously secretive club of no practical value. Why would I want to overly complicate life by socializing with that type of horribly nasty New England snob? The thought never occurred to me. I just don't care.

Which Reminds Me

Stacy was asking me about my plans to go to New York which seemed so ridiculous to me for several reasons:
1. I would never in a million years discuss my personal plans with such a horrid nasty person as Stacy. These creepy Cox dogs are not entitled to poke their noses where they are not welcome. Being filthy rich does not entitle this cravenly stupid Byron and Stacy Cox to just butt into my life and trash everything in such a pathetically clueless away just because obviously the Hawaii millionaires are paying them under the table. I am not interested in sacrificing my future happiness so that a crude and vulgar dog named Stacy can disdainfully dismiss me as yesterday's garbage and only on the grounds of opera voice. It is not like Stacy has any other virtue. If I had any influence at all I would use it to bury these vile pseudo-Italian filthy rich Cox swine seasoned with Maltese extract. There is no reason why I should care about the filthy rich slime of Hawaii when their only aim is my destruction.
2. I had read somewhere in a magazine about the Broadway wannabes who undertake their mandatory pilgrimage to New York to try to get into the music business, but I had never considered myself a Broadway wannabe or of the caliber that would benefit from such a trip so there would be no reason for me to go there. Obviously, Stacy reads a lot of sappy magazines but her assumption that readers like me would automatically do whatever advertisers tell them to do is highly insulting and only proves how pathetically devious and dumb, not to mention wicked, Stacy and Byron actually are. I do not want my life story to coincide with theirs on any of these points. Thus I like having the option of flipping off these pathetically stupid Cox advertisers whenever I choose because all this worthless chatter really gets on my nerves.
3. I would not actually know anyone in New York if I did go there, which could be good or bad. I am indifferent to the idea of New York. Most of the people I ever met from New York seem to have odd mental issues and strange behaviors, which does not bode well for the idea of actually going there to be surrounded by the weirdest of the weird.
4. I vaguely recall Jennie Cerullo mentioning that she was from New York. I don't know Jennie or her friends and family that well and all signs seem to point back to Point No. 3.
5. I vaguely recall Sharon Leibowitz talking about being from New York. I don't know Sharon or her friends and family that well and all signs seem to point back to Point No. 3.
6. All persons from New York that I have ever met: Point No. 3.