I Thank God for the Mexican Government and People -- YAY!!!

THIS is what I found in Paradise Village Shopping Mall, stationed 75 feet from the laundromat I used yesterday -- except the guys did NOT wear face covering, and I did NOT check their patches to see what agency they were from!!!

>>> LOTS TO REPORT, TODAY:

Also contains the shopping mall that includes our only laundromat -- and the US Consulate.

1. I should clarify that the three heavily armed guards were at least ostensibly working on a Cajero (cash machine), but they were there when I arrived, and still there when I left, nearly two hours later.

NO ONE works that long on a teller machine -- they quickly un-jam a physical problem, or pop out the whole mechanical/electrical innards to be repaired off-site. It is TOO DANGEROUS (and tempting), to spend all that time on site to do long repairs with tons and tons of cash kept in those machines.

Now, it might be just coincidence, but I DID blog enough in advance for them to guard me there (downstairs from the US Consulate that is SO involved in narco-trafficking). And I did NOT discuss politics with anyone, I went about finding romantic couples in their 70s who were visiting from the US or Canada, to alert them to the full eclipse of the moon last night -- TRE ROMANTIQUE, no???

2.

This is pretty much what you saw last night (or didn't), the moon is less bright so more easily seen for its being an orb with features that are harder to see when fully bright and too high contrast in the black sky.

I did not bother staying up until the peak in the middle of the night last night -- I had seen the whole thing start to finish in Cape May, New Jersey, back in the mid-1970s, and having no telescope or binoculars, I wasn't going to get anything new out of it last night.

Kelly Trainor de O in her office.

However, the last one I was aware of happened the night a few days after I landed in Raleigh, North Carolina at my parents' house in mid-December 2010, right after I drove back from Puerto Vallarta on money my parents had sent for that purpose. Kelly Trainor de O, a President Clinton appointment, had helped ease that money transfer, but ALSO had gotten my mother connected to and to PAY Dr. John Mabry Crouch to try to convince me to take psycho-active drugs.

At that time, they all accused me of being on the manic side of BIPOLAR, not considering that my mother was CERTAIN of this since early 2009 (about 22 months, then), when the WORLD'S RECORD MANIA BOUT in the psychiatric literature was NINE months, and mania lasting longer than three months being highly unusual. (Plus, through it ALL, I slept like a baby -- often in the MOST unlikely places!!! -- IMPOSSIBLE in real mania.)

>>> BUT HERE'S THE KICKER: John Mabry (Maybrey???) Crouch was a RASCALLY character, and his wife (long since moved on), had turned out to be the LARGEST exporter of cocaine from Mexico to the USA, back in the 1970s or 80s -- something HE didn't know until after the marriage -- and something he often told me was the WORST mistake he'd ever made -- that and the FACT that it had necessitated his working for the CIA ever since.


And even sadder, was that Dr. Crouch's then (2010) "girlfriend" took him to court because he got JEALOUS and hitched his beat-up pick-up truck to her SUPER POPULAR taco stand and RIPPED IT APART!!! She claiming to me that he was NEVER her boyfriend but just an ANIMAL who wanted to fuck her -- LOL!!!

Now you, like me, might be tempted to think Kelly Trainor did NOT connect my Mom to the CIA operative deliberately, but in 2012 when I returned to Puerto Vallarta, Kelly Trainor, without giving details, told me that Dr. Crouch had moved out of the area -- BUT SHE STILL KEEPS IN GOOD CONTACT WITH HIM!!!

Yes, folks, THIS is the United States State Department in ACTION in Mexico!!!


MORE here: http://scottkenan.blogspot.mx/2013/10/mammy-knows-best-she-might-could-have.html

3. Finishing the story of the night in Raleigh of the eclipse of the full moon, my parents had lined up an interview with me with a social worker at a North Carolina mental health org a day or two before that, and THERE, although my parents had promised me they would allow ME to deal with the staff (I was then 59 years old and arguably adult enough to handle it -- I've always lived independently), they RENEGED, and as soon as I had completed my interview, the guy setting me up with a shrink to diagnose me in about 10 days, but NOT himself diagnosing me and even admitting he was not qualified to, Mom and Dad insisted on speaking to him privately behind closed doors, and after THAT, he came out and STERNLY told me I was TOTALLY BIPOLAR!!!

I, that day, found ANOTHER agency that was similar (hell, by that time AYE wanted an honest answer about my mental state -- as long as Mom was not involved and doing her usual NAZI-CATHOLIC-BULLYING thing, and I DID eventually get TWO of those evaluations in Wilmington that said I was under STRESS, but not needing medication), and I made an appointment, then cancelled the one that my parents had so thoroughly POLLUTED.

So a night or two later, Dad was up in the middle of the night to see the eclipse and must have gotten REALLY frustrated, because he got his BB gun out of the garage and standing so that the shot would have hit me square in the face, blew a tiny hole in my windshield.

Later, I FORCED Dad to pay for its repair, and then the morning after THAT, I was awakened by cops, telling me my parents had gotten a Restraining Order and they kicked me out of the house, beginning my AMERICAN homeless period -- LOL!!!


4.

4. I actually DID begin reading my memoir, WALKING ON GLASS: A MEMOIR OF THE LATER DAYS OF TENNESSEE WILLIAMS, last night, getting through seven chapters. I was frankly AMAZED at how good it is, and I found MANY double meanings of things I've never noticed before.

I am RESOLVED to clean its FORMATTING up where I published it in blog form, here: http://laterdaysoftennesseewilliams.blogspot.mx, soon, but here is something from Chapter 6 (I have NOT been able to correct all the formatting crap the CIA has done to this, but what remains is minimal):

After (our dinner guests) left, I stopped at the front desk to let them know we would be checking out the next day. Cape May was too quiet. Tennessee had decided we should return to New York in the morning. I felt like a failed host and was grateful to be leaving early. Just being in town made me anxious, and doubly so serving as Tennessee‘s guide. I felt I had to please everyone without knowing how to please anyone. I had lost all sense of self and proportion.

"Do you think I could get his autograph?"

The desk clerk introduced herself as Miriam, the mother of a long-ago friend of mine, but she was someone I had never met. How did she know who I was?

"Gee . . . " I hesitated, not wanting to deal with this. No one had asked me to get his autograph before. In my mood, I would rather have walked barefoot across burning coals.

"I‘m a big fan." She closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them and spoke.

"'After all, high station in life is earned by the gallantry with which appalling experiences are survived with grace.'"

I felt prickles on the back of my neck as I recognized the last sentence from Tennessee‘s Memoirs -- my favorite of all his lines.

"It‘s in my will," she said, with a big smile. "I‘m having it put on my tombstone."

The cheery mention of death spooked me. "I‘ll ask him . . . " I said, "later."—knowing I would  not. "He‘s resting now."

Scott

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