October 25, 2018

Yesteryear
One year ago today: October 25, 2017, a lively post, read it.
Five years ago today: October 25, 2013, on the road again.
Nine years ago today: October 25, 2009, the last pre-hotdog BBQ.
Random years ago today: October 25, 2014, goofin' around downtown.

           It was already pushing noon when I got to the DMV. I had still not found any Wifi service. Earlier I stopped at the usual Burger King, since they have good coffee. The Wifi was down and I wound up asking four people, including the manageress, if they would please turn on the Wifi. (I mean, why turn it off in the first place?) But such things as Internet service are plainly not anything of priority in that neighborhood. I was right, you know, about getting out of Hollywood just in time. The immigrant rot of Miami was moving north around thirty city blocks per years and the telltale signs that Hollywood is next are all over the place.

           My bank and the Publix Market that used to be on the Circle have pulled up stakes and moved north to more secure locations. Make sure you are reading this with an open mind. I am not talking raw facts here. When I moved to Hollywood, there was a pleasant little downtown on the Circle. A bookstore that gave free coffee, a magic shop, little café’s with coffee counters, and five or six small saloons that had live entertainment. Most evenings you’d find couples walking the boulevard, now it is drunks from the local casino looking for hookers. Here is an illegal immigrant running an illegal roadside stall, selling uninspected fruit from an unlicensed cart illegally parked on a city swale in broad daylight. If a white person started selling anything between the vehicles at a red light intersection, they would be arrested within minutes.

           Then it hit. Around 2006, you found candidates spending a million dollars campaigning for the mayor’s job that paid only $90,000 annually. Eminent domain bullied out the northwest corner of the circle to build a parking garage that nobody ever uses to this day. Property taxes and one-hour parking meters closed down the movie theaters and the small shops got squeezed. The wrong elements started moving in and even the bookstore had to cancel the free coffee when they were threatened with a lawsuit if they refused service to the vagrants who were abusing it. The new city admin brought in that horrid condo you’ve seen documented here. (It’s still 80% vacant.)
           Now all the good shops are gone. The pubs are closed, the cafes have been replaced by a few large and expensive shigga-booga Latino joints that blast crappy music across the streets at each other. There are crowds on weekends, but it isn’t the same and you rarely see locals any more. The biggest problem remains the Cubans. You get good individuals, but as a group they are exceedingly prejudiced, seeing themselves as the elite and most Americanized of the Latino countries. They look down on other Latinos, with Mexicans and Argentineans being the lowest on their scale.
           If they own any business other than a stripper bar or a restaurant, it’s a sweatshop. They play the race card if any one of them is charged with anything. This is the first thing they learn when they get off the boat. They chase out legitimate businesses because they know they won’t be prosecuted when they hire illegal labor. Like back in Cuba, they think they can base an economy on restaurants and selling vegetables are roadside stalls.

Picture of the day.
Lesterville Science Fair winners (2018).
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           At the DMV, they’ve changed the system. Before, you took a number and waited and waited. But at least you could sit down, so I had brought my laptop and a good book. Now, the renew your registration, they made you stand in line, and there were 18 people when I got there. Knowing the ropes, I slipped off my shoes in my spot and went over to sit down. This worked well for 45 minutes, every twenty-minutes or so, I’d go back and kick my shoes ahead a couple inches. Then in walks this Miami ass-clown. What happened was the lineup was so long, people at the back end would leave in frustration. Then she gets up to my shoes and says, “I’m stepping over those.”

           No you aren’t, I said, that is my place in line. And the ignorant bitch starts in, making a total ass of herself. I said that I’m handicapped and could not stand in line, so she says she is also handicapped. Wrong move. I said but I meant not mentally. She blows a fuse. I just sit there waiting it out. Finally I said, ah, so you thought because you’re a woman and somebody’s mother you could come in here and get away with anything. Ka-boom, she started up again. By now, the place was scowling at her. But to keep things on an even keel, for the next hour, every five minutes the line moved, I got up and kicked my shoes ahead. That’s every five minutes instead of every twenty minutes. What a useless old lady.

           Myakka City. I made good time after leaving Clewiston, so I took the route to Arcadia and kept going the extra 20 miles to see that dot on the map. It’s beef country, with expensive looking farms. The actual town is one store that sells a hundred brands of soft drinks and another hundred of beer and wine. There’s a Mexican style buffet. Prices are astronomical, but it’s the only outlet for miles. I grabbed a tiny iced coffee and bag of chips ($5.09) and turned north on a road called Wachaula. It’s grand motorcycle turf and part of the area I had planned to explore. The place is crisscrossed with roads not shown on many maps. I eventually wound up in good old Ona, then on to Bowling Green, Florida.
           Here’s your grainy picture of the intersection at Myakka, it’s the only thing worth using up memory on. There was a one white babe in the area, but she had that almost albino look. She looked nearly 18 and trust me, the moment she does, she is out of there never to return. She looked at me and smiled, but that’s because I was the first white guy she’d seen in ages. It’s an agricultural community dominated by a few huge cattle spreads.

Last Laugh

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