In the Back Seat
Anyone knowing me well will not be surprised when I say I'd rather be riding in a cab than driving one. My first extended period taking cabs was in Madrid, Spain April 1982, when honeymooning we took cabs in the evening to various restaurants, zipping around that wonderful city in Spanish-version Fiats. Friday morning, 3:30 AM Seattle/Pacific time, my taxi buddy Emmanuel, YC 296, took me to Sea-Tac, his Crowne Vic roaring down I-5 in the rain and wind. I told him to keep on working, that I might not be the only one going to Sea-Tac this early but he appeared more interested in going home and sleeping. The wimp!
Arriving in Mazatlan, I took a cab to my AirBnB apartment ($14.00 per night), the fare about 400 pesos, and giving the driver an American five dollar bill for the tip, translating into about 100 pesos. My place is about three long blocks from the sandy beach Mazatlan is famous for. Last night, walking in that direction, I came across an active basketball court, watching a few minutes and seeing there were some "players" on the court. If I can find someone who speaks some English, I'll see if I can "find a game." I have been playing for nearly 57 years, and if you don't think I'm lying, used to occasionally "dominate" a game but that might be a distant memory now that I'm old, fat and out-of-shape. My "outside range" was once 23-24 feet.
This morning, I took a cab to the dentist's office (Dr. Wendy Kramer, email@example.com., www.premierdentalmaz.com) a short drive away, the English-speaking cabbie charging me 70 pesos (zone-system in Mazaltan), giving him a 100 peso note and a US dollar bill. His son lives in San Jose, California. The cabbie told me business was bad, the pandemic and competition from Uber, Lyft and other ride-share (TNC) companies making it a hard go. Like my previous driver, he is a Mazatlan taxi veteran, both highly professional at what they do, plying their city's crowded roadways. The city has a population of about 650,000.
My Bellevue Court date was a fiasco
What I thought would be routine turned into a judicial circus, with the court allowing both court room participants and defendants appearing over "Zoom calls." It was poorly organized and moving at a snail's pace, meaning my 9:30 docket wasn't close to be being opened, as they were still talking to the folks from the 8:30 schedule, suddenly finding myself # 17 in their theoretical queue.
I could go into much detail but once I realized they had not honored my subpoena requests, I was gone, already scheduled for rides in the next two hours. They didn't know what they were doing and I knew it, paying my $42.00 ticket for being a taxicab in Bellevue and living to fight another day. They haven't heard the last of this as I will be filing official complaints, including with whatever WA State oversight body exists. This is justice? What a sorry joke!
Given the Political Season, That's My Reason: An essay upon what I think will happen
I barely worked Thanksgiving Day, before dinner having to get a tire ruined by this huge screw replaced, and luckily, my favorite tire shop in the 9400 thousand block of MLK Jr. South was open, selling me a replacement for $50.00. After eating, my first of 3 rides took me from Pier 52 to 125th & Lake City Way, the nice lady a confirmed "Trump-ite" faithfully repeating the fantasy perpetuated these past 3 weeks, 4 years and even before that. Inspired by her and all else that have occurred, I have decided to share my prediction of what will be the soon-to-be former president's fate. To me it's clear, and not something anyone else appears to be saying. Hey, all cabbie's are contrary, we know that!
The Evaporating Mythology: Donald Trump Four Years from Now
Oh how naive all the headlines are these days, screaming Mister Trump will be running for president again in 2024, that his hold upon the traditional GOP electorate is ironclad, and nothing changing the trajectory of the Trump comet zooming across the Republican universe---America fated for disinformation, misinformation and obfuscation for months, years and, heaven help us, decades to come. But what should be obvious is what Trump's shouting is all about, the noice containing one primary aim: to keep the American public from rationally thinking, relying upon dissonance confusing anyone interested in maintaining a sound mind, preventing the adding up of correct political equations; in short, propping up a mythology televised over America's wide screens. And now over 80 million American voters have proved him wrong, ignoring the before and after bluster distorting rational mind and soul, fantasy making for poor public policy or anything else substantial.
What we have all been experiencing since election day is Trump's suicidal attempt to serialize a myth disappearing into the American electoral sunset, saying night is day and that full moon beaming down is actually the sun announcing yet another new "Trumpian" dawn, Trump repeating, ad-nauseam "reality is not reality" and "I simply don't care what you think one way or the other." Why this tactic is self-destructive and non-productive corresponds to what I have said, the vast thinking majority not interested for an additional moment listening further to his nonsense and are ready for it to stop, legal wheels now turning to ensure Donald Trump will be permanently silenced in political oblivion.
And this is my not very bold prediction: all the legal and criminal cases hanging over his head are about to come crashing down, especially the numerous sexual assault and rape allegations, and once his DNA samples are provided to the courts, Trump will be finished, with many but not all of those faithful Trump-ites now contrite, having to admit they all along have been backing a now convicted rapist for nothing but unsavory political and personal gain.
If this does come to pass, will the majority of Americans collectively truly admit that supporting demagogy is a fatal route to true democracy? I would hope so but Russia still has Stalin supporters and Germany, its Neo-Nazis, meaning millions will remain faithful to a myth tarnished and broken floating upon a mist obscuring a reality inches from their nose---Trump their demigod blessing them from a golf course closed to the normal public, guards, not angels, heralding this new kind of sequestered Heaven.