Thursday, July 28, 2005

I see your image in every dusk fading
I hear you laugh in every breeze passing
I feel your touch
I feel your finger on my lips
as you quiet me
as you lay me down

Take me away far away again
Take me to your world
Take me through my slumber
Take me in your embrace
as you cover me
as you press close to me

I hate you for doing this to me


How old? A wise man told me that you're as young as the woman you feel but I aint got that kinda cash seeing that I bought a car yesterday!! So I'll just settle for 47.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Deberia (I should have..)

I hide dreams without thinking when it will come.
And if the light embraces me at the beginning
I live playing, supporting the truth.
Now I want to listen.

There should be a little more.
I do not need to ask.
There has to be a little more.
This silence will grow.

When life does not come to greet me
I suppose it hides in my city.
Better to go out, look, and confront it.
Now I want to escape.


Punish me I'm sorry.
Now do you feel better?
Punish me for you.
This sun and this dream,
with you is finished
in some corner.


I was mistaken. That IS Grillo singing. Rocio Cuba is the owner of that wonderful voice singing with him. Grillo is playing a 12 string guitar.

I hope you listened. Please let me know if you did.

Just one of my quirks

One day I was in the bathroom taking a leak and when I came out my wife asked, "Why do you flush the toilet while you're still peeing?". I explained to her that I try to time it so that I finish peeing just at the water stops going down the bottom of the toilet. So she asks one of those dumb questions that a wife asks a husband. "And why do you want that to happen?". To which I answered, "because when it does I WIN".

This is a Bolivian musician named Grillo Villegas. I lived in Bolivia four years and when I returned for a visit last January my sister-in-law played some of his stuff for me. I think he's great. Check him out even if you don't speak Spanish. His web site is: Click on musica and then a song named "deberia" (I should have). It played on my windows media player. Grillo plays the guitar. That's not him singing. He writes all the songs though.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

You take a walk on a bleak street
Tonight could be the night you crash
Then you turn and stop
Start to fingerpop
You think you hear a whailin' combo
You climb a flight of twisted stairs
Some cat says buddy

If you've got eyes
To rhythamatize
Bring your flat hat and your ax
Cause tonight at ten
We'll be workin' again
At the Teahouse on the Tracks

The last five CD's I listened to

Emerson Lake and Palmer: Box set disc 4
Donald Fagen: Kamakiriad (quoted above)
Nickelback: The State
Llegas: El Pesanervio
Billy Joel: Songs in the Attic

Saw the last Star Wars. 3 out of 5 stars

I'm up FAR too early on my day off but we had to take my daughter's buddy to the airport. So what the hell, let's see if I can come up with something interesting. I FINALLY got a digital camera. A cheap digital that I'm gonna play around with until I have the do re mi for the new canon that I want. Of course what I REALLY want costs a grand but takes the EOS lenses that I have.

Now it's time to start posting to my buzznet account and seeing if I can find a way to link it here on the side like some sites I've seen. Dana Delaney has not contacted me and I know it's probably because she's working in some remote location without computer access. I'm an impatient man so it's time to move on.

Time to go watch the shuttle launch. I'll make another futile attempt at interesting later.

Thanks for dropping by.

Saturday, July 23, 2005

OK OK. All calmed down now. Cooler heads a DHS told Joe to shut the fuck up and sit back down. I hope he got some beat down. He's such a knob

WILLIE NELSON came by the stand the other day. REALLY nice guy. Signed an autograph. Today the gal who wrote legally blonde stopped by. Nice lady. Nice rack. Closed it up early today and now I'm just jotting down while the wife makes one of my favorite lunches. Toasted cheese sammiches and tomato soup. Eric Clapton playing.

Love comes over you........
All your dreams will come true

some nice slide work

Saturday Haiku

Light breeze thru the trees
My sunny disposition
Stand and wave bye bye

buh bye :)

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

So today I find out that BEFORE I get to spend 7 grand on my daughter's braces I have to pay almost 2 grand to have two of her root canals fixed. The only good part was that I was seated and the receptionist with fine cleavage bent over to explain the stuff to me. That, and I got a free pen. On the way out my daughter and her friend are giggling because they snagged two juice boxes out of the fridge in the waiting area. "Hell", says I, "go grab two more. They cost me enough". Let me add to the fun by telling you that my vehicle is on it's final legs so I'll be buying a new one next month. How was YOUR frikking day?

Maybe it's because I don't drink and I need to start. People believe they have the goods on Rove who is a guy who has made his career ducking the goods having people. Nothing's gonna happen folks and that American mother in Aruba is gonna come away empty handed and believe that she is the only person ever to do so.

So crank up the tunes and lets boogie 'til we puke. Jesus is coming so we might as well look busy. My friends would write blogs that would kick your blog's ass and who really cares because the kids wanna listen to Pink, Aguilera and Avril because they think some deaf German who's been dead forever didn't know shit about fashion anyway.

The best movie line came out of Gone With The Wind? Nah, I don't think so. The best line came out of the John Lennon character in Backbeat.

"It's all dick."

And didn't that chick who played the German photographer have the hottest body you've ever seen since your wife started pushing out your legacy and doesn't Raymi have great frikking tan lines?

And aren't these obscenely long sentences by some pretender who should go back to freshman English, forget the love affair with his penis and pay attention to the teacher and read boring books?

"It's all dick."

Great fucking line

Monday, July 18, 2005

I write to no one. I write to myself

When I think of those days so long ago and how it made me feel to know that I was the one you trusted your heart to. When I think that in exchange I handed you my soul that would some day be cast into some great void. I recall how we danced and twirled again and again while the summer music played aware that summer's end meant our end. I try to bring back those words and laughter that fell like autumn leaves and were wind swept down abandoned streets.

But I cannot. Those two people don't exist anymore. I'm sorry falls down an abandoned wishing well that once caught shiny coins as we watched them flicker like butterflies into the depths. Careless abandon of what was real and what was created in a panorama scene left rooms abandoned and covered in dust neglect these so many years now.

Sunday, July 17, 2005

The life of selling tacos used to be such a simple life. Good customers were the majority with the occasional kid you'ld have to run off for trying to pass a phony $20. But now times have changed so dramatically. The boss wants me to be able to pick off people that might KNOW that kid or live in his neighborhood. The boss says now he's knocking over taco stands.

Two couples came up to the stand yesterday. I had moved the my mobile stand down by the water since the weather was decent enough to bring out the crowds. These couples were smiling and happy and love seemed very much to be in the air. Young kids. Good looking kids. One of the girls with a bright colored scarf on her head that danced delicately in the breeze. These kids were glowing with excitement about their coming adventure.

They lived here in the local neighborhood but three of them had been born in a distant neighborhood next to some kids with phony $20's. The man who leases me this stand just recently preached that I should respect all people the same. The trouble is the same man threatens to take my stand away and leave me in the street if I'm "taken" by a phony bill or a phony smile. So I think, "is there ANY reason besides where these kids grew up that I should hold their $20 up to the sunlight for closer scrutiny?".

I could think of none and the kids went happily on their way. But given the recent happenings at some fish and chip stands in far off neighborhoods I still have a tinge of uneasiness. That's what a taco stand job has become lately. I talked to the guy who has a stand down by the train station and he says I got it easy. He has to hold EVERY bill up to the sun to check no matter who give it to him. Poor guy.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Summer passed into fall and winter. Things were quiet except for the annual murder at the fiestas marking the September 16th Mexican independence day. Every year some poor doper was knocked of in what seemed to be a sacrifice for luck in the coming marijuana harvest. Alvaro was busy sending loads over the line into the overgrown trailer park east of town. Eric had settled in to the routine of working the line and doing removal paperwork on people attempting to enter with fraudulent visas and green cards. He and Amy started running around town together after a period of meeting at his house in Sierra Vista to go out. Enough people had spotted them together that it was no surprise to see his car parked overnight at her house.

Amy introduced Eric to her brother David Aguilar. David was happy to see her with someone who didn't seem to mind that she had a son and was very pleased when he saw the two at one of Michael's baseball games.

David walked up the walkway to Amy's house and found Eric sitting on the porch smoking a cigarette.

"Let me put this inside" David said referring to the big brightly colored wrapped box.

An excited voice greeted David.

"Uncle David!"

David came back out with two beers.

"So she's banished you outside to smoke?"

"No, actually she never said anything. I just figured that since she doesn't smoke and Michael hasn't started yet."

David looked angrily and Eric winked and laughed.

"I'm actually starting to quit. I'm down to six a day from a pack."

"So what do you think of our little Douglas?"

"It seems quiet enough. The dopers here are a much mellower breed than in Laredo. They seem more polite when they come through."

"It's probably the size of the two towns and the fact that most of the dopers went to school in Douglas. We all know who they are and they know that the quieter they stay the farther away big law enforcement stays."

"Just don't try to tell the feds here that."

"They're a cocky lot alright. Too bad they haven't been able to put anybody significant away to justify their opinion of themselves."

"What about you?"

"Me, I'm just a beat cop chasing hub cap thieves."

"Yeah, right. One thing I learned in Laredo. The good ones let the idiots make all the noise. Some of these guys around here are pretty fun to watch. They have some big fans in a few of the inspectors. I had one guy to point the dopers out as they drove by and tell me of their exploits. The Burrolas and the Pachecos and of course I've been warned of the "dirty" inspectors."

"Do you think there are any inspectors who are actually dirty?"

"Hell, there's gotta be one or two. That's a given. Now just how active they are is another question."

Monday, July 11, 2005

Will Haiku for food

These clothes are tattered
I hear coin in your pocket
The beggar is me


Here Brittney look here!
I provide the fame you seek
Here behind the lens

Haiku rule

First comes a five line
Followed next by a seven
Falling back on five

God believes in GHOSTS?

We sent our youngest son over to Calgary to visit his best friend. He called the other night and I asked him if he had been up to see the house we lived in for four years. He told me that his buddy who lived in that cul-de-sac told him that many families had moved in and out of that beautiful house. He told my son that the house was haunted. Of course my son KNEW that because he had been tormented by the ghost. The ghost would go into his room at night. He never saw anything but he heard and felt the ghost. As a result he slept in our room on the floor for the last six months or maybe longer that we lived there.

I remember seeing "flashes" of light from time to time but the other kids had better stories. My other son believe that the ghost lived in his room in the basement. When the ghost was there the room became very cold and when it moved past it was like a freezer door had been opened. He was not afraid of the ghost. The girls heard strange noises. I probably heard noises too but dismissed them as house settling noises or the wind creeping into the siding.

When my wife hung up the phone after talking to our son I looked at her and said, "the neighbor kid says the house is haunted" to which she nodded and said "I know who it is". I was stunned. My wife is the religious one of the family. Goes to church every Sunday, prays every day. Here's the "rock" of the family and she knows who the GHOST is???

After we moved into the house the landlord graciously agreed to have the basement finished. That's a BIG thing in Calgary because almost all the new houses have basements but few are finished. Most are just big empty places where the furnace is. People use them for storage or their kids use them to work on that slap shot.

An Asian couple did the work in the basement and they did a great job. Tragically the woman died shortly before the thing was finished. My wife talked to her a few times and she complained that her husband treated her badly and that was evident to my wife because he used to yell at her. My wife thought she was a nice lady. They never had any children and the lady kinda regretted that but later on in life she came to dislike children. My wife says that lady is the ghost. So why doesn't she go torment her abusive husband's ass?

I grew up in the religion that my wife still practices. I don't remember any ghost talk in Sunday School other than the odd demon possession thing. Ghosts? I have been told that Calgary is FULL of ghosts. Some good and some bad, with the highest concentration being the northeast part of town. We lived in the northwest. A friend of a friend actually got a picture of one who lived in his daughter's closet. When he showed it to a catholic priest the priest said "oh, that's a good one. There are lots of bad ghosts too".

Just one more thing to ask God next time I see him.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Scitzo Haiku

We send our greetings
From within this single brain
Me first, no wait, me

Spanish Haiku

Que chingos quieres?
Crees que soy Japonese?
Deje de joder!

the picture below is the port of entry at Douglas

time for some pics

Alvaro Burrola was born the United States like his sisters and most of his cousins. His parents owned a house in Tucson and every time mom was ready to deliver she would stay up there until the baby was born. This served two purposes. The first being all the kids could then be educated in the U.S. and what may have been more important in at least one case, they could never be deported or denied entry into the United States.

Alvaro and his sisters all attended a private school in Douglas before going on to Douglas High. Alvaro played baseball in the same stadium where David Aguilar had played albeit a few years later. Alvaro's teammate on the baseball and football team was Gustavo Teran. The two were friends but not best friends. They both belonged to a small click of students who partied together and had been given the nick name the cherry hill gang. Cherry hill was a east of town where the kids would go party on warm summer nights. Douglas kids had been going to this popular make-out spot since there were cars to take them. Alvaro was in a group that laid claim to the spot as their own.

The parties on Cherry hill stopped after the bodies of six suspected drug mules were found where all the kids parked their cars. The six had been murdered execution style. The locals suspected some rogue Border Patrol Agent because the marijuana was still there when the bodies were found. They were partly right. An agent had witnessed the murders from "D" hill to the south. What they would never find out is that Alvaro Burrola was sure that one of the mules was a snitch. He just didn't know which one. David Aguilar knew which one it was and it had been his case. He put together enough information from different sources to know what happened. It just wasn't the kind of information and sources that he could put on the stand in court.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

Rene Burrola's father opened a hardware store in Agua Prieta in the 50's. The store was still open and Rene built a motel in the early 80's. Burrola had the money at the right time to go in with his cousin who owned two ranches. One of the ranches had a straight, flat road that was widened into a landing strip. They weren't the only people to move marijuana across the border but they happened to be among the clever traffickers who became two important things, successful and survivors. Rene and Salvador Burrola knew how big they could become without stepping on toes. They never got greedy. They nodded at others who went for the "big prize" and then attended their funerals. When larger operations moved into the area from Chihuahua they negociated and became support players for what was a smaller take then they were used to. They realized that the benefits of less actual hands on work were worth it.

The "old days" to Rene and Salvador were days when they learned to remove a gas tank, cut it open and fashion ways to compact the marijuana into every corner. Rene's hardware store was the perfect reason to buy trash compactors at Sears a half-dozen at a time. Large purchases of duct tape and vices of every size were common as well. They remembered how nervous they were when they hired their first mule, a college aged female, to take a load through the port and how they followed her through to Douglas. They laughed when they thought of how college girls seemed to come out of everywhere when the first one would tell friends of the easy money for flashing cleavage at the inspector. Their favorite was the girl who wore a mini skirt and lacy panties and who was always asked to open the trunk on primary for a voyeuristic inspector. She passed so much dope under the back seat of that Lincoln that the brothers presented her with the keys to a brand new one at her wedding/retirement. She married one of the customs inspectors who wouldn't allow her to wear mini skirts anymore. The inspector never questioned the car because he believed Rene was her godfather. Customs Internal Affairs questioned it but like always, they had nothing.

Rene and Salvador were millionaires many times over who didn't need the money but liked to keep a hand in. Rene's son Alvaro was active in trafficking and was flashier then his dad and uncle. He did have one thing that his uncles never had. He had an inspector working for him.


Romance in the dark
The candle's flicker obscures
Fine definition

Friday, July 08, 2005

Two weeks passed and Eric had settled into procedure and was figuring people out. Gus had passed the word that he had been somewhat interesting to O.I.G. in Laredo to people at the port whom he considered key people. The two dead boys had come across the line and been buried with the usual promises of a complete investigation that would never get far. Things went back to as normal as they ever were. Carlos went back to leaning on his suburban outside city hall in Agua Prieta listening to his scanner and waiting for informants to walk by and give him signals to meet in various parts of town. One of his favorites would send a shoe shine boy over to shine his boots. He would then get in to his suburban and drive over to the "zona" to meet her and get laid. She ran this particular bar and always had something good. The dopers loved to brag to the girls so they felt important. The girls always coaxed more because it was money on top of their usual cut that they would be able to give their families.

Carlos paid well because he always had money that he had collected from some of the same dopers for protection. In Agua Prieta cops paid for their jobs. Money that was kicked up to the "capitan". Carlos had some money kicked up to him from lower ranking officers but he wasn't as greedy as some. After all, everybody had families.

David knew the pecking order Carlos worked under and although he never asked he knew that Carlos worked with some of the traffickers. That was a given. David knew about the madam from the zona and even once when Carlos was in a bad mood told him to go get his boots shined.

Eric often sat on one of the tables in secondary since he couldn't smoke in the office. He would light a smoke while he watched customs inspectors with mirrors stop cars passing by to look underneath for shiny bolts or tell-tale scratches on a recently removed gas tank. He watched as some inspectors stopped cars with female drivers and pulled them over to have them open the trunk. The smiles gave the flirting away as the real reason. He laughed one day when a driver got out, opened the hood, and bolted south as the inspectors inspected the back seat. They didn't even notice that the driver had run away at first and tried to take a passenger from another vehicle into custody when they discovered the marijuana under the seat. Eric had to break the news to them. What made them mad was that Eric was laughing when he told them. What made matters worse was the man they tried to arrest as the driver started to laugh too. Eric wasn't liked by many customs inspectors and he could give a shit.

Another break.I've been blog surfing and there's some interesting stuff out there. I've posted some comments but I generally don't if I have to sign in and get a password. I've seen quite a few "lists" so I thought I'd do a post like that for the 4 or 5 people who have stumbled in here.

Five movies I think you should see.

The Motorcycle Diaries. Great adventure filmed where the actual adventure took place.
Easy Money. Rodney Dangerfield and Joe Pesci. Hilarious.
True Romance. Tarentino script, great film.
Night Shift. Comedy. Two words: LOVE BROKERS
It's a Mad Mad Mad World. Classic comedy starring legends.

The last five CD's that I've listened to.

Joni Mitchell: Travelogue. Some of her faves arranged with orchestra. Simply amazing
Genesis: Trick of the Tail. My fave of their's
Matthew Good: Last of the Ghetto Astronauts. LOVE that keyboard work
Walter Becker: 11 Tracks of Whack. Half of Steely Dan. GREAT disc
Kansas: The Ultimate Kansas. I like Kansas. SO WHAT. Lonely Street is a great tune.

The last five CD's I bought.

TSAR: Band Girls Money. Thanks Tony. Good garage sound.
Tori Amos: Scarlett's Walk. This is a GREAT "first Tori Amos CD" if you don't have any.
Llegas: El Pesanervios. Wonderful Bolivian rock/jazz. Impossible to find now. I bought the only two I could find when I was in Bolivia.
Gustavo Santaolalla: Ronroco. Argentine. Did music for Motorcycle Diaries.
Joni Mitchell: Chalk Mark in a Rain Storm. I LOVE Joni. I have more of her than anybody.

TV shows I watch.

Rescue Me. Dennis Leary, firefighters. Great
The L Word. Good writing. HONEST
Pardon the Interuption. My favorite sports show. (no ESPN here in Canada)
Mad Money. RAW Capatalism
Pilot Guides. Great travel. Good host
The Simpsons. Who doesn't?

Eric Simmons drove his truck into the secondary area of the port and parked. He got out, opened the camper shell and pulled his bag and a uniform shirt on a hanger out of the the bag. He pulled a pack of camels out of a side pocket of the back and lit one. He looked up toward the customs inspectors in secondary and clicked the zippo shut. He walked towards the secondary office. He could see immigration inspectors looking out the picture sized window. Eric was in shape and the white tee shirt fit him snug. He had dark green sun glasses with black frames. He was an imposing sight at six two, two hundred ten pounds. He ignored the customs inspectors and dropped his cigarette on the concrete exhaling before opening the door and walking into the office.

Danny Zapata sat behind the counter looking like the end of another midnight shift.

"Are you Simmons?"


Danny stood up and reached out his hand which Eric shook.

"I'm Danny Zapata. You're transferring in from Laredo? How was Laredo?"

"Laredo is a shit hole, like most of Texas."

"How long were you there?"

"I grew up there."

The two laughed. Danny nodded.

"So what part of Texas ISN'T a shit hole?"

"The leaving part."

Another immigration inspector walked in another door of the secondary office and Danny made the introductions. Danny took Eric over to the main office where they were immediately approached by a customs supervisor.

"You can't park your truck there." he scowled.

Eric reached in his pocket and pulled out the keys.

"You wanna take care of that for me hoss?"

Eric reached out as if to give the man his keys and the supervisor turned beet red and walked away. Danny buckled over a counter laughing as people came from different parts of the office to see about the commotion. One of them was Amy Price, the port director's secretary.

"Are you Eric Simmons?"

"If you want me to be."

Amy smiled and asked Danny to show Eric where the locker room was. About ten minutes later Eric appeared in front of Amy's desk now in his uniform. Amy handed Eric a key card to the parking lot and explained that everybody would duck some of the bullshit if Eric parked his truck in the back now. She said that the port director was at the district office in Phoenix so his spot was empty today. As Eric walked away Amy shouted.

"The IMMIGRATION port director!"

Eric parked his truck in the back and Amy was waiting with the back door open.

"The code for this door and all the doors back here is two, four, eight."

Amy was only 5'4" and Eric noticed the cleavage. Amy noticed that Eric did not have a ring on his left hand. She had already been told that he smoked but she could overlook that. When Eric walked through the door he noted things on Amy's desk. An empty candy dish, files, a cat beanie baby and a picture of what looked to be a 9 or 10 year-old boy. Amy had Eric fill out some paperwork before taking him over to the supervisor's office.

"Gus, this is the new inspector, Eric Simmons."

Gus got up and walked around from behind his desk.

"Gustavo Duran."

The two shook hands and Gus motioned Eric to have a seat while Amy went back to her desk in the back by the port director's office.

"How long have you been in?"

"Twelve years, all at Laredo."

"So all we should have to do is get you some passwords and you'll be able to work the line."


Gus picked up the phone and punched three numbers.

"Dina, is Rudy over there? OK, I'm sending the new guy over for him to give him system access and passwords." Gus hung up the phone. "When did you qualify last?"

"Two weeks ago."

"Great because Danny Zapata is on midnights right now and he's our range officer. He's a damn good one too. What collateral duties did you have at Laredo?"

"I didn't have any. I just liked to work the line."

"OK, I'll get with you after Rudy gets you into the system. He's the team leader today so he'll assign you to somebody to familiarize yourself with how we do things around here. I know you know your stuff but customs will get their panties in a wad if we put you solo on the first day."

"Sounds good."

The port of entry at Douglas had been built long enough that the main building was deemed historical and remained pretty much untouched when the new port was built around it. Now dust blew in through the 1930 windows and all over the new floors and the the computers. The old guard were reaching retirement age and had pretty well been ignored by the young inspectors for some time. Immigration and Customs did not get along which was a turf war at most any port along the border north or south. There had been threats to unify the two but the fact that they held such different responsibilities pretty much kept that from happening. The one thing that Immigration and Customs had in common at Douglas was that their agencies suspected a large number of inspectors there of being corrupt. Many were from the local Douglas area and had friends and family on both sides of the line. An outsider would look at that an immediately draw that conclusion because the special agents who were the watchdogs of such things would assure them that there was evil there.

When Eric Simmons transferred in from Laredo, Texas he would get it from both sides. The locals would suspect him of being an Office of the Inspector General plant to spy from the inside while the agents from O.I.G. would suspect him of being corrupt because why would he want to come to Douglas? Eric had worked for the I.N.S. for twelve years and he knew the games. He already had a file with O.I.G. complete with pictures of him in a whorehouse in Nuevo Laredo. The agents always laughed because they saw what they thought was a fool waving into the informant's camera. He laughed because he knew the picture would end up in the file. He always wondered if the breasts of the two whores has somehow been covered when the picture was placed in the file. He never asked because he didn't want them to know he knew. Even after he was called in for an interview when the informant was found dead and the film in his camera was developed to show pictures of the man begging for his life before being shot to death.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Carlos looked through the photos of the crime scene. The one kid he did not know was face down with his hands tied behind his back. He had been shot once in the head and had fallen against the wall before sliding down to the ground. It looked like he had been rolled over on his stomach so the killers could get his wallet. There was no property envelope with his body at the morgue. The Alcocer boy had been tied to a chair and had more than likely witnessed his friend's death. What Carlos had not noticed that day is that two fingers on Alcocer's left hand had been cut off. He looked again at the pictures but could not see them on the ground anywhere. Alcocer had been stabbed in both thighs before having his throat slashed.

Carlos called the morgue again and discovered the two fingers were not with the body. This killing did not make sense to Carlos. This kid was not high enough in the pecking order he thought to be killed this way. He was just a common mule thought Carlos. If dopers thought somebody was going to talk they would normally just kill them outright. This kids had been worked on as if he had some information that they wanted from him. They thought he knew something but what?

Carlos would be able to get the photos over to David when they bodies were taken across the line to the mortuary in Douglas. Robledo had probably already sent his roll over to Juarez. The two Mexico City federales had gone to Phoenix to shop for their wives and mistresses and would fly home from there. Now Carlos had to get some people working to put together the reasoning behind the killings of two Americans. The U.S. government would want some answers but he needed the right answers.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Douglas, Arizona is a nice enough town tucked down in the southeast corner of the state. The murder rate was directly tied to the drug trafficking that was that latest money making industry. A Walmart was built five blocks from the border, or "the line" as it was referred to by locals and that sealed the fate of downtown to a doom of cheap one dollar type stores. There were aging schools built in the 1930's with dirt playgrounds filled with kids playing soccer and tetherball. Kids whose parents and sometime grandparents played in the same school yards. Douglas high school opened in the early 50's that still had many of the same facilities. One of those was the baseball stadium. Visiting teams were impressed because it had real dugouts with hallways that lead to a locker room. Many of the local kids who played there went on to college and a few even got a shot at the pros and fame in the local newspaper. David Aguilar made it to double a with a pro team before being let go. He still returned home a hero, got a job with the Douglas police department, and married his high school sweetheart's sister. She drank too much, drifted, and they were divorced. There was a daughter and David got custody. His family all helped raise the girl. David's ex left for California and nobody heard anything about her until a couple of years later when she was killed in an automobile accident.

Her death had a profound impact on David and not only because of his daughter. He felt guilt even though he deserved none. He concentrated on work and was promoted to detective. David was one who always played his cards close to his chest because he knew that he could not trust many people in law enforcement circles. He had a group of informants and they trusted him because he was not quick to act on their information. He liked to use what they told him as background and build a case slowly. He didn't want the killer or the mule. He wanted the next guy up the chain. He was not foolish enough to believe that he could nail the kingpins. The only people who could do that were other kingpins and it meant killing. Any cop who got too close to one of the big fish quickly drowned. He had a daughter to raise. She was eleven. Seven more years to graduate and hopefully they would both leave Douglas together.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

David Aguilar turned away from watching his daughter's soccer game to pull the vibrating cell phone out of his pocket. Only five people had this number and in another week it would change.


"We have a problem."


"No, second street. 1530."


Carlos and David had phone codes to duck the feds and the dopers using scanners. David had a cousin in Phoenix who got phones for him every month. Untraceable throwaways. If the department ever found out he'd get suspended or fired. It beat the alternative of being shot. Second street meant the meeting place in Bisbee. Fifteen thirty meant Eight PM. Add the three to fifteen for military time. The place and that time of night meant that it was pretty serious.

Carlos showed up right on time.

"What's up?"

"You know that Alcocer kid that got popped with the load at the port?"


"He's dead. Tied up, tortured."

"Jesus Christ. That was Andy's case. He was talking like the kid was gonna roll. Did you see the scene?"

"Yeah, I got pictures. Looks like work out of Juarez. There were two bodies. I don't know who the other kid was. Some white kid. Both were tied up. Looked like the white kid was just shot outright. Maybe in front of the Alcocer kid."

"When will the photos be ready?"

"In the morning. My man is going to print them tonight."

"Did anybody else show up at the scene?"

"Robledo and Alcaraz and two guys, looked like Mexico City guys."

"How can you tell that?"

"Too much grease in the hair for this area."

"Something's up. Think the two are related?"

"No, these guys were probably along for the ride on this killing. Maybe a plane coming in. At least that's what I hope. We don't need this shit staying around for long."

"Hell no. Call me at the office when they decide to send the bodies across."

"You got it."

His first reaction when he saw the two bodies was to look up at the horizon. Maybe two hours he thought as he saw the storm clouds building in the east. Monsoon season meant humidity added to the heat. The scene was bad enough without that added factor. Carlos grabbed his cell phone as he headed back to the truck for his camera. He looked at his watch. The ambulance would take 45 minutes if it wasn't busy and longer if they had gone across the line with another premature delivery. He shot a roll of film and lit a cigarette. When he saw the cloud of dust racing at him he stashed that roll in his crotch and shot half of another. Four federales got out of the suburban. Carlos knew two of them but the other two were strangers and had a polished look to them. Had to be Mexico City. To him that meant something big was coming up this way. One of the men he knew spoke.

"How many pictures do you have?"

Carlos looked at his camera.

"Thirteen of a roll of 24."

"And the pocket?" The man moved his hand indicating he wanted Carlos to give him what he saw.

Carlos pulled the empty film canister out of his pocket and tossed it to the man.

"Just the empty canister. I keep the film in the fridge because of the heat."

"Finish the roll and I'll take it."

Carlos shot up the roll and handed it to the federal agent.

"The ambulance should be here in 20 minutes."

"We'll take care of it."

Carlos took that as his cue to leave. He knew that the federales would now sanitize the crime scene. They would cut the ropes from the two men's hands and search for anything that would show the killers were sloppy in their work. Two attendants would arrive with the ambulance. Now was the time for rumor control. Even though murder was obvious, fewer phone calls from Juarez and Chihuahua meant fewer headaches.

Sunday, July 03, 2005

American me.

I recently read commentary on a blog about Americans traveling the world. It made me think. How do I describe the perception of Americans by people around the world and I came up with this.

Right away people think they have an idea of what I am based on TV. People think that as an American I listen to Rush Limbaugh and believe that the dominance of the world by my country is what I want. They not only believe that I voted for the current president but suspect that I talk to him on the phone daily. They believe that as a white man I really DO hate blacks and that my favorite movie is the Rodney King beating. They believe that I live THEIR perception of America and American life when they really don't have much of an idea what either means to me.

Here's the truth about me. I believe that my country is great and that it's people do great things. I believe that the government is an overbloated bureaucracy but that it pretty much stays out of my way of enjoying what I like to do. It DOES have a huge impact on the world as you know and if it were up to me it wouldn't. I would pull all the boys home, cut off most foreign aid and work on feeding, clothing, and educating Americans first before venturing out again. Someone once told me that Americans think they own the world to which I replied "I wish YOU paid for it cause we sure pour a shitload of money on it".

I've voted in every presidential election since I was eligible to vote. I never voted for Clinton, voted for Bush the first time but think he's run the thing pretty shitty. I've voted for and met my congressman who is one of the few if not the ONLY openly gay Republicans in Washington. That's fine with me because he does a fine job for his (my) district. I believe that Government has no place in my private life except to collect taxes and provide basic public services. I am AGAINST the current tax cuts because I believe that the country can't afford it. I believe the simple answer to the social security is to raise the contribution level to the first 150K from the current 90K. I have a separate retirement plan and believe that anybody who doesn't is in for trouble.

I love college sports more than pro sports. I believe we should be seeking out alternative fuels because it just makes too much sense all around. I believe that we should cut the ability of foreigners to enter and work in professional jobs because we have too many college kids not working in their degreed fields. I believe that the proposed "guest worker" program is a new form of slavery. I believe that the children of undocumented aliens living in the U.S. should ABSOLUTELY receive public education. I am dead set against bilingual education programs beyond say, the 4th grade. English is the language because if you don't know it you're held back by a tremendous barrier. I believe in a fair amnesty that legalizes those currently living here and have committed no crime. I believe any non-citizen regardless of status who is convicted of a serious crime involving violence should be deported. I believe that if you have been convicted of certain crimes in your country you should NOT be allowed to enter mine. PERIOD. The only people who have an undeniable right to enter the U.S. are U.S. citizens. I support the death penalty. I do not believe it to be a deterrent but a punishment.

I believe that the U.N. should be moved out of the U.S.. I believe in leaving the rest of the world alone to chose how they want to live their lives and elect who they want to elect. I believe that there are WAY too many guns. There should be at least a two year moratorium on the manufacture of ALL hand guns except those manufactured for law enforcement. THEN production should be extremely limited in the very least if not eliminated altogether because people realized that it is a pretty good idea. I believe in a woman's right to choose to have an abortion but I think that abortion is wrong. I believe that if we brought our military home we should put them on the border to tell the narcotics traffickers "it's over now motherfuckers".

What I am not nor will I ever be is an apologist. You'll never hear"Gee, I'm sorry you think that we're bad but gosh, we really don't try to be" from me. If you tell me that my country is full of shit you're gonna here the big "fuck off". Just like you would tell anybody who dissed YOUR country. Diss the government fine, but not my country.

I go on both sides of the "right/left" ideology but know this, I love my country. I want you to love it. I want you to come visit. We got some really cool shit here. Forget who invented what. Just come enjoy yourselves. But remember this, Americans are as complex and varied as anybody in your country, as passionate about their country as you are of yours, make mistakes as you do. I like to watch the sunset and go to the movies and eat good food and see new things and places and laugh with all my friends who are, and are not from the U.S.. That's the attitude that created places like New York, Vegas, L.A, Disneyland.......


A guy came up to the ol' taco stand with "change is coming" blazoned on his shirt. At first I was hoping that meant I wasn't going to have to break a 20. Then I realized that it was the only clean shirt he had because that's all he complained about was how technology was changing and all taco stands everywhere couldn't be the same.

I want change to come. This morning I wanted that damned red light to change. There was no traffic but it's stuck on the cycle it uses when there is heavy daytime traffic. I changed the radio....several times hoping to get a good song for my "last song syndrome".

I want my daughter's teeth to change so I don't have to shell out the 7 grand that braces are going to cost me. I offered the dentist a change of life experience. I held up my mega millions lottery ticket and said "I can pay you OR I can offer you this opportunity to win 60 million dollars". She's not a gambler.

Change is coming but that guy doesn't want change. He wants things to stay as they are or he ends up looking like an idiot.

Saturday, July 02, 2005

You can come down now. The Senate has apologized!!

Friday, July 01, 2005

The reason I play golf

Bridgette here is a beer cart girl at a course in the Phoenix area. I'm on vacation in October and have printed a map to the course.

I have been playing most of my life and have reached the lofty handicap of 25. For you non-golfers that means I suck at golf. MOST people who play golf are in the same boat as me. Brigette inspires me to maintain my mediocracy on the golf course as I dream of winning the lottery. When I win the lottery I hope to stay mediocre. Needles to say Bridgette will receive a sizable tip. Scroll down to my definition of stunning and apply to Bridgette. SIGH

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