All Entries in the "Lifestyles at Risk" Category

Continued from “Brasilia in Flames-Amazoa Revenge”

Continued from the front

then draping taut clusters of Kapoc and pieces of ancient Sumaumeira trees around the windows and doors so that they could insulate themselves from the ever-creeping jungle now intent on engulfing the entire logging camp. Over across the clear-cut pastures it was much the same.

Angry Amazon rainforest on fire

“During the day everything is fine as well-armed burning crews set out to reclaim more virgin rainforest so as to run cattle and plant soybeans,” said one Quechua source. “The Amazon can never recover from this wanton destruction.

“The smoke can be seen for miles and miles. The smell of the executed trees is overwhelming. At dusk the men return to the makeshift camp and then all the retribution starts. The sound of the plants moving en masse and the screams when they take a worker are nightmares many of us will never outlive,” continued the Quechua man, who lives in a traditional village nearby – one that is threatened by the mass destruction.

Terrified eyewitnesses report that massive vines as well as epiphytes like moss and bromeliads lead the initial assault, trapping stragglers and choking many of the often drunken residents of these filthy, diesel-infested sites. During sleeping hours the situation grows worse as plentiful Euterpe Precatoria and tough rubber trees join in the one-sided massacre of smothering and strangulation. In the morning there is little else to do but dig shallow graves in the sandy soil and go to work cutting and burning, hoping to punish rogue plant life and discourage another night’s rampage.

“The governments and the land barons do not want this news to get out, as one might imagine,” said the indigenous source. “All that violence might get someone’s attention and the mindless burning and cutting brought to a halt. After watching this struggle emerge night after night I realize that not only the native people are of no value to these agricultural monsters. We are all expendable.”

Scientists working for several South American concerns agree that it is highly unlikely that a confederation of plants is at the root of the havoc. They say workers have simply stumbled onto bad whiskey and have imagined the hellish harassment, the nocturnal dosage, and the jungle’s spell.

Despite the downplay by the experts local authorities are on alert after reports of monkey brush vine, pitcher plants (carnivores) passion flowers (pollinated by bats) and Victoria Amazoa perched within striking distance of towns and cities that harbor plant murderers (homicidam donari flora, genus: tropicae silva).

– Suzie Compost

The Burgeoning Toilet Paper Virus

(Montrose) A friend just sent me a photo of empty shelves at a Montrose chain store and it set me thinking….What if there is no toilet paper left in the region when I return from my winter residency in Colombia in May?

What will I do if I can’t buy toilet paper in the tri-county area? The intensity of the current panic doesn’t bode well for my safeguarding instincts and/or my hoarding prospects. So I’m asking for a favor: If you read this article would you buy me a roll and deliver it to my front porch in Colona. Surely I have enough friends that will help me out on this. (I’d give my exact address but I’m worried about identity theft.)

And maybe bring over a few jugs of milk even though I don’t particularly like the stuff and those big bottles of Perrier?

Is there a run on the liquor stores too? I’d hate to run out of vodka what with all this talk about quarantines and lockdowns. Will the marijuana dispensaries stay open in a crisis? What about candles, pizza delivery and bullets?

One reader suggested I use old copies of the San Juan Horseshoe but it’s just not the same. Another said I’d be better off staying here in South America until the consumer emergency wears off. Still others asked if the gov’ment would not solve these health disasters flung onto the United States from the redoubts of foreign calamity.

Toilet paper provocatively displayed in Colombia

One person advised that I buy what I need on Amazon and have it delivered. After checking I found that the distribution giant usually sells Charmin for $27 for 24 rolls but that the product is currently unavailable for an undisclosed length of time. Hmmm.

This morning one of the leading newspapers in Medellin carried a well-researched piece about attempts to smuggle toilet paper into the US wrapped in bags of cocaine. The story, while amusing and a credit to investigative journalism has not been substantiated. Nor were rumors that Canada and several Latin American countries were cutting off all exports of toilet paper (an estimated 10% of all domestic consumption) to the United States in its time of need.

I hate to cut this article short while I’m on a roll, but I’m done obsessing about comfort levels, wild-eyed catastrophes and the binding accessories taken for granted in our daily functions.

So what if I ran out of toilet paper! I have a shotgun. Anyone with a loaded shotgun can get toilet paper quickly and discreetly, no questions asked.

– Gabby Haze

Bronco Offensive Line Bearly This Spring

(Pigeon Valley) The remnants last season’s Denver Bronco offensive line will wrestle black bear as part of a rigid discipline when spring practice begins here in March. The porous squad that, with the exception of Dalton Risner, ran on diminished cylinders in 2019, will began the rigorous regimen from day one.

Head Coach Vic Fangio said that the Broncos, 4-1 in its last 5 games, needed “a little fine-tuning”. The defensive-minded field boss has always opted for brute strength over finesse and it appears that is the direction he will take the team in 2020.

There was no immediate information on the black bears.

Not to be left in the dust, running back Phillip Lindsey has reportedly petitioned new offensive coordinator Pat Shurmur to allow him to participate in the wrestling matches. Although nothing official has been determined sources say the smaller Lindsey would wrestle a Grizzly rather than a more docile Black Bear.

It is common knowledge that the Chicago Bears defense broke wild horses back in the summer of 1986, the year they won the Super Bowl, scoring 46 points in the win against the New England Patriots.

-Susie Compost

AND IF THE VIEWS ARE NOT SPECTACULAR ENOUGH…

You will enjoy Imelda and Jaime, the fantastic hosts at Finca Agroturistica Carrizales, in the Antioquian Andes. Contact them through Air B &B or locally at 314-780-4070. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience so we’re going back asap.

Local Man Flush With GPS

A local man, Melvin Toole of 2877663399 Road, was rescued from his smartly decorated bathroom this afternoon after spending more than a week looking for the exit door. Despite the fact that he held his trusty GPS, Global Positioning System navigation device in his halting hands (or possibly between his knees) he was unable to negotiate the necessary moves to free himself from his personal hygiene calaboose at the end of the hall.

“I reached out and my team failed me,” whined Toole, a retired spleen counter from Moline who recently moved to Montrose “to be closer to God”.

Toole told reporters that his GPS showed the route to the door but didn’t tell him that same floor might be slippery and presented a confusing checkerboard pattern. It also failed to notify him that the light was behind the door and that the seat was up.

“The GPS didn’t even bother to tell me to wipe either,” said the now freed prisoner of his own devices.

Readers may recall when reaching out was considered a misdemeanor akin to sexual harassment, and when being an individual was better than being a member of some tiny-brained corporate robot corps. Oh well…

The dumbing of America has many allies in the world of technology.

This is not the first time Toole has achieved marginal fame. In 2007 he mailed himself to Coconut Grove (Miami) only to end up in the dead letter department. Hours later he was returned to sender when a mailman discovered something amiss.

The act of mailing oneself falls between the cracks with regards to federal crimes like mailing weapons of drugs, so Toole was released into his own custody upon his arrival back in Montrose.

“I was so close,” said Toole, wringing his hands mercilessly.

– Uncle Pahgre

“Caricatures might exaggerate reality, but they can’t invent it. They can distort but never lie.”

– Javier Mallarino in Reputations by Juan Gabriel Vasquez

“Caricature is a stinger dipped in honey.” (ibid)

Le Travailleur Nomade dans Paris

Oklahoma’s favorite Francophile, Monsieur Roy Bob Le Blanc, wanders the streets of Paris, pompously impressing himself with his mastery of the names of hundreds of landmarks, streets, markets, wines and classic dishes. It’s probably better that he talks to himself since no one else can understand his pitiful French.

He cannot even properly pronounce Au revoir mon cheri or Merci beaucoup. Nonetheless he is in heaven. It is the heaven of blissful pomp and circumstance. He shops for French fries and naughty lingerie for his wife back in Lawton. After hours of cooking school he still cannot make crepes.

Whenever he speaks people look up annoyed and often angry at the linguistic slaughter going on within earshot.

Agenda du Jour

8 am breakfast at Cafe La Ferronniere

9:15 a stroll on Champs-Elysees past The Opera and through the Arch Triomphe and then on to the Eiffel Tower.

10 am: for another coffee and a croissant at Cafe Lateral.

And now I’m fueled for the morning, he says.

11:00 am Will you look at the tranquil taxi stand, quieted after rush hour. I will take a quick spin to Pate Petén, Rue Marmot, and Place du Venisonne to read their posted menus for tonight.

Noon: Luncheon at the Les Crepes de Louis Marie over at 1 Rue de l’Arbalete.

2 pm The first race is at 3:30 at Auteuil Hippodrome. I don’t want to miss it. Damn, now I can’t find an empty cab anywhere. That’s all right with my instincts and knowledge of the City of Light I can walk there. Maybe I’ll pass Jim Morrison’s grave. Isn’t it in that cute little cemetery off Avenue Victor Hugo? Or is it Chemin des Dames…No that’s up north.

3 pm Hmmm. I don’t see Avenue Montaigne. …Rue de Rivoli, Passages Couverts, or Boulevard de Clichy. …Where have they gone?

4 pm I have misplaced Claret Rioux. I seem to be turned around.

5:30 Now what has happened to my Paris map? I must have taken a wrong turn at the Louvre Museum this morning. This shabby neighborhood is not mentioned in my book…I don’t recognize these the street signs. I’ll just duck down this alley and take a shortcut. I will simply double back to Avenue de L’Opéra.

6:30 But which way is the river? Now I believe I’m lost and it’s getting dark.

“Lost you say monsieur. How can you be lost in Paris? Maybe I can be of assistance,” says a beautiful, young woman passerby in a navy pencil skirts and horizontally striped blue blouse. “Come with me. I will relieve you of your worries and your burdens. Do you like my city? Have you been to L’Avant Comptoir Wine Bar or Macarons? …I work there sometimes. You speak beautiful French you know…

“I love Paris and I am well versed in its delights…it’s landmarks and history…”

“Oh?’ she smiles. “We shall see.”

The young woman leads him along three tiny streets, through an open-air market and down a long flight of steps to where her accomplices are waiting. They tense up as he smiles a greeting. Is this the Gendarmerie, or is he just another stupid tourist mesmerized by Paris?

“Give us your wallet and cell phone or we will dismember you and throw you into the Seine!” says the largest one, a cigarette dangling between his lips.

“We will throw you off the Eiffel Tower,” he continues. “See how you like that.”

“Take off those shoes too,” demanded another, “and that map, that stupid map.”

He dismissively throws the map into a litter barrel in the alley.

“Ah, the Seine,” sighs Monsieur Le Blanc. “Gore de Lyon, Place de Vosges…”

“No, those are sites are near the Bastille. You must be thinking of Pont des Arts or maybe the Sainte Chapelle,”said the woman.

“Your hotel is near Montmartre?” asks the second thief. “We know the neighborhood very well. Come, we will walk you there. You never quite know about who you might meet in the dark.

“My name is Monet and my associate here is Renoir. The lady is Joan of Arc, or was that Marie Antoinette, dear?”

– Pierrot