JANE MADDEN THE LOVE LETTERS EPILOGUE

THIS Jane Madden is not that other one on internet, just in case. She was certainly weird in a hollistic, witch way, with too many lesbian friends. Which reminds me.
In those years in Northampton, LESBIAN CAPITAL in the northeast USA, there was a friendly lesbian into Don Juanismo, or into
picking them girls left and right as a Casanova. When I brought my observation to miss
Jane, she told me that if I mention it, I would probably be burned at the pyre?

WITH SOME LUCK
THE END
MAY ARRIVE
FINALLY
NOT
MY FAULT.

EARL created a woodshop space in that building and get money off my rent for whatever labor I do on my apartment and the rest of the space- She is easy to negotiate with and we get along great- I am really attracted to Pearl's Harbor too-
the apartment is small, low ceilings, a little "munchkin-y" but bigger than any other
space I could get for the money and the woodshop space in the same building is a real plus- she is already told antique dealers friends about me and it seems there
will be business- So, I am happy and excited about the future here- Wayne is the only cloud so far- I will just keep my distance and my peace- (as I know your having to
do a great deal of too.)

Joanne will keep my plants here until I come for good and move into Pearl's- You should see the plant we thought we killed moving your stuff- it is beautiful. One cut
off stem has two beautiful new branches. They are healthy, Pearl's has sort of a sandy soil and it is very hot and sunny around the outside of the house. Shade trees are on the side with picnic tables that used to be for the public when the place was
a real roadhouse 30/40 years ago. I hope the seeds you are sending will flourish
there, please give me instructions and I will try to do well by them.

Last night Joanne and I went into Chapel Hill to see and hear Root Boy Slim (I always thought it was "Rude Boy", he is very rude and crude, but funny). The music
was great and for the first time I felt like dancing in public. I think I am making progress on that. Everyone was just kind of dancing in a crowd (like at the Reggae
concerts in "Heartland Reggae") no partners, so I felt comfortable.

When a man grabs me to dance I go stiff with fear, it is so weird, but I am determined to get over it. Root Boy sang his traditional "Boogie till you Puke".
" I am not too old for you, you are 15 and I am 42".. As well as some new material, one on Yuppies, the 64% of Americans who voted for Reagan..So hip, so young,
so lame and one about Nancy Reagan, "I am white, I am rich, I am Republican, great
lyrics and great R&Bs music. I had fun and Joanne had not been allowed out since
December so she was happy too.

I do not know what got into Wayne he said he did babysit guilt, if he has any sense
at all. So, I am going to register the car in NC, tomorrow insure my stuff and drop
off the truck. I may leave tomorrow nite or on Tuesday and be at the Cape by Wednesday at the latest. Mom told me today on the phone there is a letter for me from you. Can not wait to read it and see how you are doing. I am thinking of you a lot of course since when I was last there it was with you. Nice memories. I love you
dear one.

Always,
Jane

EDITOR OBSERVATIONS

Miss Jane has an irritating contraction
vice. A pain in the ass, I got rid of it by the end.
What's the point? What is the point? What is the
saving? What do you save?

Where is the love as in the tittle, the acute
reader may inquire?

At the end
I love you, dear one.
Why the tittle, the picky reader wonders...
It is cool, but I concur this damn letter is too long.
When I remember how much I was into writing letters,
how much I enjoyed them, receiving and writing.
But life is always cruel. Every moder fucker I wrote to
in thirty years, never responded within the parameters
I demanded so communication will flow.
Such is life and time to go.

Other letters, post cards may come...lator
alligators...

JANE MADDEN THE LOVE LETTERS ll

WHAT A TRIP! If you got a chance
to read the first part of this wordy letter, with many

expressions, words typical MA, that I have not seeing herd in almost 3 decades. Without any further redue...
THE LOVE LETTERS CONTINUES..

EVEN when the car overheated he made it sound like my fault! (Joanne said if I wasn't there it would have been her fault.) He's lousy under stress
-he drove my mother nuts- So she's hip to him now-He was freaking at the tension level in the house because Daddy seemed to be "going" so he picked a fight with Joanne and got really upset- Don't focus on your dying
father! Your spoiled brat husband is more important!

Her milk was affected and Molly is sort of nuts for that reason as well as just picking up on stress and feeling the effects of traveling- Joanne has asked me to try with Wayne because all her friends hate him (!!??) so for
her sake I'm trying-but distance will be the ultimate answer. Today he
watched a ballgame and let me unload the washer, dryer, my trunk, bureaus, ect, alone-he doesn't want to help me ever again and I don't
want him to!

IT was satisfying to get it accomplished alone although there were some hairy moments let me tell you! The washer almost landed on me as I tried
to lower it off the truck- Being pissed and trying to be independent can only carry a 118 lb woman so far-size and strenght become a factor after that- But I did it and feel good about it- Sunny is a good connection (She only deals with Wayne from a distance too-) I know she and I will be friends and also keep each other in business and economics-Eventually
Pearl's Harbor will house a deli too, which she will run-the restaurant can't happen unless she invests thousands in upgrading the septic system and she hasn't got it- So I can help her.

EDITORS SECOND INTERMISSION
GOD DAMNED
IS IT wordy or what?
Jane Madden was a trip,
nice looking eyes and hair,
great taste for movies.
We saw tons of them, among
the group
perhaps the weirdest-longest
movie in my life!
BERLIN ALEXANDERPLATZ
DIRECTED BY FASSBINDER
If I am not mistaken 17
hours long, Believe it or not!
Time to go.

to be continued soon...

LUIS MUNHOZ MARIN FOUNDATION BOTANICAL INVENTORY FROM THE PAST

I HAVE stated without any possibility of rebuttal, the pathetic situation
in the foundation. Rip offs to the private/public sector paying for the
salaries of these incompetent group of scam artists. There are too MANY employees, and it keeps growing. It is a farm of ipomoeas/batatas.

This inventory has not been updated, since Alberto Areces Mallea and wife
destroyed many trees to make mulch for the hell of it. Particularly to justify the use of a huge wood chipping machine, free of cost provided by the municipality of Trujillo Alto and 007 Recursos Naturales, around 2003/04 and landed in the area of the compost as the picture in the right shows..

The inventory was provided by the librarian in charge, JULIO QUIROS, hard to be confused in the premises. He looks like a manatee or sea lion in growth. All were planted by either,

Luis Munhoz Marin; Ines, his wife or those who worked the farm as it was then. It is worthy of mentioning a Cinnamon tree, planted

by the former swimming pool. Now, converted into a hideous pond with dirty water and algae. It is perhaps, from my knowledge, the only one there is in Puerto Rico until further notice. Mr. Areces never thought of installing an adequate filter. A real shame when one think of it.

INVENTORY

Malpighia punifolia
Nerium oleander
Cinnamomum acamphora
Plumeria alba, rubra,
Hymenea courbaril
Terminalia catappa
Hamelia axilaris
Melaleuca leucodendron
Bamboos vulgaris
Casearia sylvestris
Chrysophyllum caimito
Brugmansia suaveolens

Allamanda cathartica
Cinnamomum seylanicum
Swietenia macrophylla
Cedrela odorata
Citrus sinensis
Caryophyllus aromaticus
Stahlia monosperma
Cocos nucifera
Barringtonia asiatica
Congea tomentosa
Pithelobium arboreum
Ixora coccinea
Dillenia indica

Delonix regia
Gardenia jasminoides
Pithelobium dulce
Inga laurina
Cicca disticha
Psidium guajava
Spondias dulcis
Ficus nitida
Citrus limonia
Montezuma speciossima
Mammea americana
Citrus nobilis
Mangifera indica
Calophyllum antillanum
Jambos malaccensis
Byrsonima spicata

Chalcas exotica
Roystonea borinquena
Bauhinia
Artocarpus communis
Phlebotaenia cowellii
Bolsmkioldia sanguinea
Hibiscus rosa-sinensis
Citharexylum fruticosum
Petrea volubilis

Casuarina equisetifolia
Eugenia jambos
Casearia arborea
Tabebuia glomerata, pallida
Lagerstromia speciosa
Tecoma stans
Cordyline guineensis
Combretum grandiflorum
Tectona grandis
Citrus grandis
Triplaria caracassana
Spathodea campanulata
Didymopanax morotoni
Canangium odoratum

I have set a trend again. This collection of plants, bushes, trees
and groundcovers has some historical significance from any perspective.
No ONE has given it any meaning. It was mostly destroyed by the board of directors of the FLMM, MELO, the daughter, indiference and out of the common IGNORANCE and COMPLACENCY. Hurricanes did their part also. However, in my not so humble opinion ALBERTO ARECES MALLEA,
did the most damage, destroying everything that bore fruits or was EXOTIC. Tens of trees were cut down to avoid JUAN NAZARIO, obtain
plaintains, bananas, coconuts, oranges, lemons to share with his pals.

This scum of the earth Mr. A. A. Mallea, forgets that birds and other
fauna also benefited from these vegetation. He is still there in PARQUE DONHA INES, after seven
years, after destroying not only the essence of the LUIS MUNHOZ botanical legacy, but having done much worse, in twelve acres of land of all vegetation, destroying every flora and fauna without soil analysis and
the logical, mandatory inventory of species.

I hope that this inventory keeps things in perspective for those jerks who are still the jackasses taken to the river, refusing to drink. At least in the batatarian isle of Puerto Rico, USA.

You may contact the culprits

flmm@coqui.net or by phone 787-755-4505

Not all the blame/guilt shall fall on the foreigners,
Areces Mallea and Gabriela Ocampo
stupidity.
Puerto Ricans without credentials
criteria and vision allowed this irrational
destruction of our patrimony.

Time to go......until next...There are more items, much more in the inventory for a next time.

YESTERDAY BUT NOT THE BEATLES

AROUND two o'clock, one of those typical, out of the blue, intense rains dropped refreshing
somewhat the oven heat predominant for the last month or so. The type of rain I missed
and dreamed off when living in Nellingen, Northampton and New York. But had a chance to witness in New Orleans. If you look carefully at the Mississippi and look at the cement for
flood control, you will conclude people those people are crazy and arrogant. Katrina is a good way to describe it. Stupidity that is repeated. Why would you rebuilt anything besides that powerful, huge scary river?

I read watched some basketball and took a nap.

Later I went by the SAGRADO CORAZON, to see the results in the ridiculous garden recently installed. I noticed the forty/fifty feet palms seemed more crooked and questioned one
of the friendly security guards on the premises. Its not me, they are crooked. Six of them, besides looking oddly out of place.

Also noticed the top soil and orange mulch in fashion all spread in gutters and sidewalks.
I was suspicious that the use of mulch was not understood. I recently had the chance to hear
one OLD jerk with a stone/rocks nursery stating that mulch is used to FINISH, the garden. In'
other words DECORATION. For that reason if you come to the Asphalt Concrete isle, you will
see tons of it in every possible situation.

Went for a walk, landing at Crispin's. This was a former favorite oasis, to play some percussion. There were
three singers. One elegantly dressed with good voice and demeanor, the other two stunk. This
makes me wonder of how difficult It has to be to play music as a job, with talentless people.

Had a nice conversation with Gilberto Cruz. This fellow my age was a former American Airlines
pilot from the eighties. Having used heroine or cocaine for some time was caught and fired. With the typical endings in this situation. Lost of property, family and job. By the way he is now
into crack, but with an impressive voice for radio, managing both languages with ease.

Finally, watched tv. Borges, Cortazar and the other one. For the first time in my fifty seven
years I got a chance to watch these fellows that I admired in my younger years. I prefer the
elegance of Borges to the hand me down clothes of Cortazar, big, ugly as a grizzly. The other
one wrote thick, as fun as the Bible, books. Sorry I can not remember his name.

Last words. Literature is mostly about cities, I am sick of it. Cities and existencial anguish what
a fucking trip. The self, the self, and the others. I guess I have my cure: horticulture. Time to go.

GHANA NAMIBIA EL SALVADOR THE CONCRETE ASPHALT ISLE

EDWARD NORTON, was the spokeperson in one of those nature programs that leave deep four wheel tracks in one's brain. It is an intense feeling of anger and impotence,
since I have no doubts, the destruction of EARTH will not stop or decrease until there
is no profit left to make out of it, JUST LIKE AN OPEN PIT MINE.

In Ghana, there was/are great worries about pouchers. They go for BUSH MEAT, anything, that moves with hair is fair game. It is not like the other kind of silly poucher hunting for aphrodisiac hairs or ivory. This meat is sold in the market, along
with everything else bought in the premises.

The point was to determine the increase/decrease patterns in the killing. Some scientist speculated the problem was related to the decrease of fish, an important staple in the country. And voila....Putting together the graphs of the fishing/pouching
the answer was evident. When there was not enough fish, the bush meat in the market increased and vice versa.

The reason for no fish? International fisheries ripping of this country and any other
without any kind of humanitarian, intelligent or government control. Who is going to control the irrational fishing by the international community?

In Namibia, some lady of the pale skin persuasion, noticed a smell of rotten eggs, change of the color of the ocean waters not far from her residence. She started a chain of inquiries and research that gave the answer. After some long months the
phenomenon thought of being local, was not, it happened all the way up where one
can see that curve in Africa by Nigeria.

Hydrogen sulfide was accumulating in the bottom of the ocean, creating explosions that
turned into sulphur with the oxygen and methane killing the fish, changing the color of the water. This problem had occured for decades on and off. The culprit? It seems that sardines were controlling the possibilities, eating the phito planctom. However international fishing
companies again, exterminated the sardines. The example given: a billion pounds of
sardines is the equivalent of one hundred billion individuals.

In El Salvador, some idiots with profits in mind, decided to build a dam. These people are the same everywhere scam artists dressed as inversionists, construction
companies with government accomplices. It was a program on the radio. Explained
beautifully.

When a dam is built all the species, crabs, shrimp, fishes that require moving waters, or streams are destroyed. The water accumulated with the vegetation left create methane with descomposition, a lethal gas. All the flora and fauna in huge spaces will disappear along with the residents, cattle ranchers, farmers, and so on...

All with the make believe story of progress. There are still fools destroying the earth
with that idiotic excuse. The inhabitants have no need for the probable electricity that will be sold for profits. There are aeolic, photovoltaic, energy from the ocean alternatives. But AVARICE rules. We see all these examples everywhere..

The best for last. A couple of biologists became interested in reducing the pollution
created by fish farms all over the world. The solution: plant mussels and algae in the
vecinity of these fish farms to control the incredible amount of pollution by this
manufacture companies.

However there was a trick. The owners of this particular company had nothing to do with the scientists project, not a penny, unless profit could be made. The biologists then, after proving the feasibility of the experiment, proved that a hundred thousand
bucks could be made selling the mussels and algae. Then it was alright, and the project went ahead with great success.

In Puerto Rico the ASPHALT CONCRETE isle, life goes on. I continue my
strolls when not training in the thread mill. I created this formula. If I find four or
five trees destroyed or mutilated and asume that five hundred thousand inhabitants
go for strolls finding similar numbers daily. We destroy what? 250,000 trees a week, a month in the urban context, take your pick.

I believe we are screwed up. All I see is isolated philantropic intelligent, good will in one hand and AVARICE with no end, seemingly unstoppable all over the world, not only in the urban context but also in the country side. The environment is not only
the two hundred square meters I garden, but the whole... Time to go.

AAM/PDI/FLMM PART II OF A SERIES

INTERVIEWER: Now that you are rested why not start with the beginning, how did you meet these foreign scumbags?

INTERVIEWEE: After a brief, futile attempt trying to have my own landscape maintenance enterprise, I landed at the grounds of this park in 877 Road in Trujillo
Alto, working as a volunteer. If willing to confirm: Fundacion LMM/Parque Dona Ines: flmm@coqui.net, or call to request a list of their "1,300" trees! at 787-755-4505
or 787-755-7979, ask for Alberto Areces or Gabriela Ocampo.

Inwer: Then what?

Inwee: After a month or so, I started working, along with Luis, Juan Nazario, David
Abad of Dominican Republic, and Adolfo Gutierrez their faith full lap dog informer. I became aware slowly of the scam. First, the illogical destruction of vegetation in the whole area. Later, it was the claim from the mastermind AAM, that Gabriela Ocampo, the Olmec princes, was an "agronomist".

Inwer: Any evidence?

Inwee: Miss Ocampo as a foreigner, not only did not have a degree in that field, but
even if she did, she was not a member of the College of Agronomists of Puerto Rico
at the time she was signing documents as such. This is fraud and illegal according
to the law.

Inwer: Any other hints?

Intwee: Sure. The princess, ugly as them aboriginals can be, used to walk as some do. With some uneasiness, as if she had diarrhea, always jumpy and stiff. What really
gave her unusual stupidity was pruning excessively, prematurely every possible tree, before they had reached a year of growth.

When you prune/trim anything what you get is a heavy top, having destroyed the natural architecture. In consequence, any tree in their stupid nursery had tutors.
Unfortunately, dear readers in far away lands, when the architecture is destroyed, that is that, when you take the tutors off, the tree will bend, to the ground. I have
some pictures waiting for a publisher, of her activities. One is really wonderful since
it shows a few Coccoloba uviferas all wrapped in fabric from top to bottom against a
stick in a futile attempt to keep straight a tree that by nature is not, also plenty
of Bucera Busaris.

Intwer: Have you left anything out? I am getting tired.

Inwee: Could you please stick to the plan? Bare up. Sure. I never saw any activity
regarding soil analysis, a MUST, in any forest restoration, before any other step. Since there was no soil analysis, they had an unpleasant surprise. The whole area
is of a type define as CALICHE, a thin rocky top soil with impermeable B/C horizon.

Intwer: What the hell is that goddamn you?

Intwee: Do not rush your horses. Caliche is like a rock that can be dug, but does not
allow water to filter as it should. It takes a l o n g while to drain by gravity. In consequence when a hole was dug and it rained, the four feet in diameter, and three depth got full and it took ten, fifteen days to empty.

An anecdote witnessed by David Abad and told to yours truly. With the hole full of water, the imbeciles, heroes of our story of fraud, started filling it with their secret
soil mix. After they filled it they realized that it was like whipped eggs, nothing could
be planted, thanks to the water in the hole.. The workers had to empty it and start again. Every tree planted in Parque Donha Ines will have great difficulties to develop a healthy root system. And will certainly fly away with any strong wind in the hurricane season.

Intwer: I am worn out. Could we continue later? Any good relevant stuff that could
put them in jail, with the right political/judiciary atmosphere?

Intwee: Remember, ARECES MALLEA, also known as AVECES MAREA, for his
ability to use two hundred words instead of ten, is a Phd. Therefore, he should have
read, THE ONCE AND FUTURE FOREST, by Leslie Jones Sauer, Andropogon Associates, Ltd. He should have performed an INVENTORY OF FLORA AND FAUNA, not only in the twelve destroyed acres but in the stream receiving the eroded
top soils for almost two years in the Luis Munhoz Marin Foundation and their neighbors the Bosque Real Housing project.

As a token of this post, almost finished, check the picture at right, the compost area
of the Parque Donha Ines, all that acid water running down in the puddle landed
in the mentioned stream.

ALBERTO ARECES MALLEA/PARQUE DONHA INES/FUNDACION LUIS MUNHOZ MARIN NOT SO MOCK INTERVIEW

INTERVIEWER: Why do you write in this virtual space, the numbers indicate that perhaps should be closed permanently.

INTERVIEWEE: What is it to you? I thought we are going to discuss those fraudulent subjects in the tittle, are we not?

Inwer: True. Tell us who is the first one, and keep it up, our readers may not like
this structure.

Inwee: Perhaps. Maybe they really get into enjoying it since not many bloguers
use it. Getting on track. AAM or the one in the tittle is a Cuban, expelled from that
strange country for whatever reason. Got more tittles than the Duchess of Alba, from
Belgium and Germany if not mistaken, plus one from my alma mater, New York Botanical Garden. Apparently with all his research ( rare endemic cacti in necks of
woods of a couple of places, including a couple with his OWN name) could not get
a serious job in a serious competitive institution.

Inwer: What is the implication, 'not a serious job'?

Inwee: In the world of ACADEMICS, when one is good in the chosen field, really good, one does not land a job as a 'park director' without a fucking idea of what
he, and his aboriginal Mexican wife, are/were doing.

Inwer: Meaning what? Could you share some experiences that could be proved in a
Court of Law? In other words this is not personal, because they are jerks and you do
not like them or the PDI/FLMM?

Inwee: When one goes to the effort I have demonstrated, there is no room for dislikes in that sense. Check this out. These fools stole my rooting hormones from
my working area, to propagate some shitty endemic shit they had stolen from some
dry, desert like town. When I became aware they were my own, and questioned them about the origin
of the hormones the Cuban responded: Oh these are some old hormones we got from New York.

The sad thing was that the fellow had never propagated anything in his life. It was hilarious to watch him sticking the stems in water, then in the hormones, something
not necessary. Neither did the fool make the hole before sticking the stem in the
soil.

Imagine it. A couple making aroung $100.000 a month, stealing from an eight bucks
an hour employee, a jar with a cost of eight bucks. But that is only one. Another actions deserve telling. For example the consequences of leaving the twelve acres bare of any vegetation, that was not recycled or mulched, believe it or not.

Inwer: But excuse moi, in an interview, is it customary to wait for a question or in
Puerto Rico it is different?

Inwee: My apologies and thank you for the interruption in this way I can take a breath. Actually, I am going for a walk and will return in half an hour. Good bye.

BEST BLOG IN PUERTO RICO?

IF YOU ARE one of my consequent and loyal fans, you will probably holler: endemismotrasnochado, upinthebreadfruittree or anglospano review. Just like the oil 3 in 1. That is what I suspected.

NOT out of any ego trip or similar expectations. It is just that most blogs in the PR
scene depending on the two schools of style and discourse are lame, lacking original
views or wacko ones if I may. It is the same repetitious lame, I reiterate, usage of the language without much vision, real humor or an elementary level of wittyness.

By writing what is in the tittle, hoping to see my work in the internet pages I was happily surprised.... there...there was nothing...HOWEVER, I am glad, really. GIL THE GENIUS, from CABO ROJO, with love and a like Maugham, with a doubledge sharp ENGLISH style that I enjoyed the hell out of. Check the post on something related about a knife and those
puertoricans that migrated, mostly illiterate and have tons of self hatred for many
reasons. This is evidence that in these boring shores some are creative with the language, it does not matter which.

I have never written about our national blog scene in depth, nor that I will, since it
really stinks. Some blogs have become shoppers, others beg for money, the pretenders
of the fatherland display the flag prominently even if they stink, so you can see them/read/look at the pictures with some pity. Too many pretend to be newspapers repeating what one finds in PAPER, as if they could present it better,
without a little spark. And some are BETTER written, with better pictures........but they have nothing to say/write since they suffer from
myopic difficulties, are blind or with blindfolds.

At any rate, this will be my shorter post considering the subject. I had great pleasure findind this well written blog, even if the thematic scheme
is not of my liking. What I read I enjoyed and invite those readers in the far away
continents to check 'The Best Blog in Puerto Rico' by Gil the Genius. Go to search
with that, you'll find it. YOU may enjoy it. I wish some of the puertorican fools in the blog scene would have told me it exists. Suggestion, if you see a blog of your liking in the future share it. As Gil the Genius ends his postings...The Other Genius
has written. Time to go.

PEOPLE FROM THE PAST

YESTERDAY, was ecoturist day in the COUNTRY OF CAGUAS. I went to visit the dentist, Dr. Hector Davila in the same office since the beginning of times. I was a little disconcerted at the radio station selection. To such a point that I called to find out if
he was actually in his office. Once the doubt was settled, I just look at the pictures of
the typical magazines found in such offices.

Fifteen minutes into the waiting some familiar fellow entered with khaki shorts, a blue polo some boat shoes and white puma socks. He was let in by the doctor something
surprising since one believes one should be called first. I could not recognize the voice since the conversation was kept very low. Until I asked the doctor's assistant if this person was the brother.

And he was. Victor Davila, I had seen him 25 years before in PLAZA the monster mall. I recalled the conversation and so did he. A great rare encounter in
a dentist office. By the way the visit went fine. Our conversation went briefly by the
memory lane and Dr. Davila was kind enough to change the corny bachata music by something more stimulating, the voice of GINA MARIA HIDALGO.

I left the office in a great mood and walked the ten or so blocks to Mr, CABANAS Flea Market on Georgetti St. It has been probably the only worth visiting market of that
kind anywhere in Puerto Rico. The idea came after his visits to USA. In the beginning people thought him crazy, but he has developed a niche like no other. One can find LPS, antique radios, door knobs and so on. We met in high school and went to college. It is one of the few people I grew up with still able to keep a conversation
and a great sence of humor, an easy smile and laugh.

Miguel Montanez, came after that. This guy has cut my hair approximately since 1969. His original barber shop was a beauty with those antique barber chairs no
longer in existence, cozy and comofortable. At any rate, Miguel is a great conversationalist and has kept his agreeable nature for all this decades along with Dr. Davila, a basketball, music mentor, Cabanas, and Miguel Montanez.

I went later to visit Mr. Moreno, who owns an almost empty cavernous furniture store. I had a nice conversation with his employee, Luis, about the great possibility e to convert this huge space to rent by the hour and play table tennis. There are no places to practice such elegant, exciting, fast, requiring of great reflexes and imagination
sport. Something I have missed for decades. It can not be done alone.

All these conversations are probably a world record for this humble servant or yours
truly. When they take place the misanthropic germs fall and hide for some time.. Memories from yesterday, a nostalgic trip to better times.. When the houses, buildings, sidewalks of downtown CAGUAS were not the induced coma, ghost town, boarded up front stores, business, cemetery it is know.

If I was able to cry, I would. Just as when I walk through Ponce de Leon Avenue, or visit Rio Piedras. The concrete asphalt spread, in Puerto Rico is like an incurable skin cancer spreading through out the four cardinal points, an incurable disease, without remedy.

No one mentions it, everyone is resigned.....Lest hope the rest of the world wakes up.

A COUPLE OF TREES TO WORSHIP/ADMIRE

WHEN LIVING among asphalt/concrete since childhood that virtue of appreciating beauty gets dulled or gets lost forever. I noticed the destruction of Puerto Rico at
fifteen, the initial traffic jams, the stress full noise, women getting pregnant left and right. Cars and more cars, right now about eighty five for every one hundred fools,
in a territory one hundred miles long and thirty five wide, over 2,000,ooo vehicles.

How can any one love this day light nightmare? India and China are going the same way. Following that miserable trend of highway, automobile, house, grass, refrigerator,
water and air conditioning set by USA, not many decades ago. TATA is a good example of following those destructive ways to relate to our surroundings without any vision to future, irreversible consequences.

But now lets get to our visitors. The first one, from the bottom, is a Tropical almond,
a tree that one sees frequently in Puerto Rico, in many contexts, but is definitely a
tree for the beach, the sand, the salt breeze where it predominates and looks its best.

What is this tree doing here then? Well all the space was once probably just sand,
some endemic vegetation of all kinds and coconut palm trees, brought by our
original mother country SPAIN. That is why.

Considering the tendencies of construction developers, to destroy as much as possible as fast as they can, the existence of this tree and the Ceiba, on
these conditions, is not far from a miracle. They are both about four hundred
meters from each other, in opposite sides of the Ponce de Leon Avenue, where I conducted the first tree inventory that I know, recently, and appears in endemismo and upinthebreadfruit tree.

For a few reasons: CO2, limited space for the root system and small area to collect water and oxygen. The diameter of the trunk is between ten/twelve feet, the height
between seventy/one hundred. One thing is sure. There is not other Terminalia catappa of this dimensions anywhere. Well, lets make it safe, that I have seen anywhere or know about. More about this later.

The CEIBA, is in the eyes of some, a similar tree to a Bao Bab, that unbelievable masterpiece of nature, and some say/have written that those original blacks brought
to better living conditions in America, used them for their religious rituals as a substitute. This tree is not so popular and abundant. However some, perhaps five,
are well known in Puerto Rico because of their dimensions and age 500 years.

Perhaps the best known Ceiba, is the one in Ponce, the best city of the island in terms
of architecture, abundant, huge trees even though is essentially a gentle desert with
not more than fifty inches of rain a year. Apparently, people who live in extreme heat conditions appreciate trees more than those in other climatic environments.

Observing these magnificent trees, ignored by everyone, pedestrians, drivers, the news media, is one of the few beautiful things to watch in the Metro Area of San Juan. I feel lucky to have photograph them, even if the resolution of the pictures
stink. No one else has written or divulged any information about these gifts of
nature.

Those architects/engineers who designed and constructed these tropical 'skyscrapers', should be honored. These two buildings are rare indeed. Perhaps
among hundred of thousands in this concrete/asphalt isle. Everyone else in their guild are notoriously disconnected, enemies of nature. They leave the ground pretty much as a rotten carcass with their huge tractors to plant concrete. Construction developers have destroyed all that matters: flora and fauna, soil, water, air. In EVERY continent, bluffing as PROGRESS.

More about this later on the fifth paragraph... IN PUERTO RICO, there is no inventory about trees that I know. Not even where I live. I did the first inventory
recently from the University of Puerto Rico in Rio Piedras to Miramar St in Miramar,
a wealthy, clean neighborhood. I counted perhaps seven hundred trees in a ten mile stretch, and about one hundred empty spaces in which trees were supposed to be.
One third of the seven hundred are mutilated or diseased, and ignored by blindfolded claimed environmentalists of every tribe and niche..

But lets keep the image of these two, Terminalia catappa and Ceiba, to ease the daily visual pain of this daylight nightmare that is Puerto Rico, USA.

FAREWELL VIRGIN MEGASTORE TIMES SQUARE

I JUST f0und out that a chapter of music retailing has been closed. For many
years it was the biggest record store in USA, with sales of fifty million bucks, before the recording industry fell in a slump that continues today.

It was a trip to enter, search in the bins for any kind of music one may think off,
from any country or period. The street level floor was mostly rock, first level down,
jazz, classical opera, world music. Last level, videos and books, coffee shop and entrance to some movie theater vaguely remembered.

The most expensive cd's I found were operas or early singers from
beginings of the century. Among opera interpreters, the most expensive single cd I saw was from Tito Schippa, a tenor.

Working as a cashier in the classical department for two winters, allowed me to learn a lot about opera, and classical music in general... Regarding voice, pitch and range. I was tutored by Scott, a pasty pale, probably of Irish descent, a bohemian, unkempt cashier, singer, and expert in the history of opera. A fanatic, similar to bible ones. His conversations were only about issues related and
relevant to understand what singing, technique is on one hand and its relation to how does all tenors and sopranos, are not created equal, nor they sound alike
in the same range.

Thus, I learned about Maria Callas, Joan Sutherland, Bidu Sayao, Franco Corelli,
and Boejerlin, perhaps my favorites in my limited tolerance for this music. I fell in love with the Bachianas Brasileras sung by Sayao, an obscure Brazilian soprano from
the thirties, a really impressive voice in a masterpiece composition.

Regarding tenors, Scott thought Pavarotti was the best ever, while I was into
Domingo at the time. But I could listen to the Sweedish and Corelli any time, I really
enjoy those voices.

This was circa 1996/97. Then there was a negro soprano with the MET, who got too
much of a diva with the orchestra and director....Soon afterwards she was fired
and that was that never herd of her again..

Anecdotes from those days...

Many Argentinians and Venezuelans came to buy cd's, vhs, and some lp's looking
devices used to record live operas, movies and such...Later substituted with dvd's.
They would spend hundred of dollars..Along with negros from Harlem and Brooklyn,
into the pirate underground economy.

These characters will spend up to a thousand bucks in salsa, classical, regue,
hip hop, music and film to later copy and sell for a third of the price of originals,
their products in every corner of some neighborhoods in New York City, placed on blankets on the sidewalks of the five boroughs.

There was a well educated employee, something rare in the store, I mean manners and academics. This Mexican, a supervisor, was a classical buff. A fanatic of Gorecki's 3rd Symphony, a really somber composition a la Grieg.. I bought it many years later and find surprising that in these circles, this composer and many others are never mentioned. People get used to the same common places...Easier to chew and digest.

To finish. Cash in/cash out were always the most frustrating aspects of the job, dealing with the ghettoish security guards, always the dumbells, village idiots, some
supervisors were really humourous and witty, while others bitter, dumb and sour.
Meeting people from many other countries was most of the time the exciting, stimulating part of being a cashier. Even for short periods of time. Argentinians
were the most receptive and open to respond to my inquiries. Puerto Rican islanders
the most foolish, always in a defensive attitude.

In essence, Virgin Megastore, will remain a nice memory regarding music, and the majority of people met, working for peanuts, in one of the most expensive cities. I would say without doubt that the majority of the people working in this huge store,
had two jobs, working sixty and more hours a week to be able to pay their way.

Time to go...

ANGLOSPANO REVIEW ARCHIVES: PUERTORICAN COMMITEE FOR THE CULTURE

DURING the nineties, in NYC, there was an uproar among NY citizens whose
parents were from Puerto Rico, second, third generation speaking mostly
some sort of English and very interested in voting in a referendum to determine if this banana republic without bananas or the republic, a territory of USA, should be a state or republic or what it is, a colony with
a perfumed name: commonwealth.

Here for your pleasure? The whole article/test. It was mailed to CHEO
DIAZ, a disc jockey with the best salsa music in WKCR, a college station
in NYC. Mr. Diaz is also a judge in that state. Here it goes..

To avoid the constant confusion among Puertorican islanders and those
who were raised or born in this culture, we have designed this superficial
test, to help you become aware if you really are, or just grew up thinking you were Puertorican, without really being.

1. Name two groups of local indians who used to hang out in the island
rivers and went surfing with their waterproof walkman.

2. Mention any of the crops they cultivated

3. Name at least three entrees of their daily menu.

4. Write at least five words of their vocabulary still in use.

5. Explain what a 'ceremonial park' was and some of its uses.

6. Who was the first european to arrive and surprised the indians
listening to the blues?

7. Who was the first governor? The first european murdered?

8. Name the kings of Spain and their provinces of origin then.

9. Mention at least two of the plants and trees introduced by the
metropolis.

10. What were the names of the three ships used by Columbus?

11. Name the war making this island a backyard farm or territory
of USA. Feel free to elaborate.

12. Name the town used by the troops to disembark.

13. What was the main crop of export during the stay by Spain and
what took its place under USA?

14. When and why were Puertoricans made USA citizens?

15. Which one arrived first to that batatarian isle: Burger King or
Mickey Dee? Name the city where this trascendental event in the diet
of the local islanders took place.

16. Name the first Puertorican governor.

17. Explain carefully the procedure to elaborate any of the following:
alcapurria, pasteles, sorullo, gandinga or mondongo.

18. The first soul brothers, when were they introduced to the island?
Name their contributions to the diet, music and dance.

19. When did Puerto Rico become a commonwealth?

20. Name the first governor under this era.

21. Name the most famous Puertorican astrologer/vedette. Bonus
question.

This questions are part of the curriculum and text books in all schools
in Puerto Rico, USA. Therefore is common knowledge that everyone
sees since the first grade, until graduation from high school.

In the same manner foreigners who desire to become U.S. citizens, have
to pass a test, descendants from original Puertorican islanders with the
urge to take part in this referendum or in future, to determine the final
status of the territory, should be able to prove acquaintanceship with Puertorican issues and facts.

This test has a value of 100 points. To pass and vote you need above 60.

Note: If you are not from Puerto Rico, anyone can participate, you will become an honorary citizen. Send your response. Thanks for your interest.

caliotropis@gmail.com

FROM THE ANGLOSPANO ARCHIVES: BWANA KATUNGA

PERHAPS it was mentioned before. It does not matter, the name was coined by yours truly while
working for the Criminal Justice Agency in Manhattan, among many islanders, too many, of those
islands where other languages than Spanish is spoken. The dull, dirty, smelly working space in a jail, One Police Plaza, was made worse by the pain in the ass, arrogant fools... Some readers may have noticed that I tilt toward humility most of the time. At any rate. The original anglospanoreview was a typed magazine lasting for tree issues. From the first edition of 1990, here is Bwana Katunga, an environmental story with African animals and atmosphere exactly
as it appeared then. Some critical readers will notice a little difference in style and storytelling.
Is not original. I am really sorry I can not find the reference, author or whatever. I hope you
will enjoy it as I still do. Other issues from the archives will appear for your eyes only. Stay tuned.
.

he was a hunter; well respected by everyone. for twenty years he had been hunting in this torrid african region. all the animals loved him, thanks to his poor aiming skills with rifles, and other hunting weapons. the natives, with just cause, gave him
the rank of katunga, or muzzle. evidently, the hunter was not aware of the real meaning of his aboriginal last name and was very proud of it.

one day, many moons ago, bwana katunga, also known a heineken katunga, because of his fondness for imported beer, was hunting in land where the white men had never set up foot. trucks, jeeps, four wheel drive vehicles, yes, but foot never.
after a long while shooting at different prey, unable to hit any, our hero was getting
ready to return to the encampment, when suddenly, he heard a deep groan. as a result of his many years in the jungle, he recognized it as the desperate cry of a deer that had fell in a trap.

as it happened often, his ability to distinguish the noise of each animal, did not
dissapoint him. when he got closer to the point where the groan was coming from,
thinking it was a deer, he discovered to his amazement, that it was an elephant. katunga was capable to confuse a groan of a lion with the warbling of a mockingbird
at a distance of two meters. the multiple scars on his body were evidence of this.
getting closer, our hero observed that the elephant had an enormous scar on his
left ear and his cries were caused by a gigantic thorn in his leg.

immediately, his hunter's instinct told him that he was in danger. but, once again,
he was mistaken. the pachyderm looked at him with pity and enormous tears came
running down his trunk. katunga had a good heart; using his hunter's knife, carefully, extracted the thorn. later, he searched in his first aid kit, that he carried
always for emergencies, for an elephant band aid. delicatelly, he wrapped the leg
and gave the elephant an alka seltzer the size of a trailer truck tire, falling asleep
peacefully for many hours after the effect. during the period of convalescence, katunga never rested. after some time, they separated and the elephant, happy
and healthy went galloping back to the jungle, crying out of happiness.

many, many moons after this, katunga lived days of misery, in rags. the hunter
was totally entangled; unable to move. he had been captured by aboriginal savages
into human sacrifices. firmly tied up to the ground, waiting for the roya elephant, adored by the aborigins, that would arrive at any time. guided by the witch doctor, the pachyderm would arrive to squash his head, as a part of the sacred ritual. when the time was up, the hunter saw the elephant getting closer, slowly, with his heavy
steps. he recognized him immediately; the deep scar in the elephant's ear. it was
him, the same one he had saved in the jungle!

in the precise intant when the elephant raised his leg to kill him, their eyes met.
there was a flash in the pachyderm eyes. the legendary and fabulous memory of
the animal will work again; in one second he remembered his benefactor. he
stopped, static, his leg on the air. the impossible was taking place. katunga,
the hunter, would be saved and the superstitious aborigins will not dare to bother
him again; believing it was a signal from their gods.

the elephant stayed frozen, to the astonishment of the aborigins. the tension was
intense, time seemed to have stopped. thoughts were spinning in katunga's mind,
thinking of his luck. with a fast and agile movement, the leg came squashing his
head. he did all this remembering perfectly who the hunter was.

moral of the story: the elephant has a prodigious memory, however, that does not stop him from being a son of a bitch.

to
carmen rolon
roland lapierre
julia santiago
martin anderson
friends
from moons ago

FLOW OF CONCIOUSNESS OR MEMORIES FOR THE FUTURE

I AM NOT IN A GOOD MOOD. Last night Leo, the Michelin guy next door, whose house apears to the right of the blog (endemismo), and seems abandoned, was playing the damn video
games with machine guns and bombs, at TWELVE AM. Now fellow bloguers, if you have never
lived in a concrete house you have no idea of the amount of noise that constantly
feed your ears. Unless of course, you never leave for the yard with the air conditioning all
the way up.

Right now is the hammering from the jerk handyman/gardener across the street, fixing the house
to be rented by too big a family. Even worse, with adolescent children, that means these good for nothing species will be hanging out too close by, with their cell phones permanently on their ears and their similar friends.

Back to Leo, who is very quiet, and lately says hi, with a smile, something of an achievement,
since in that weird family, no ones goes to the back yard, says hi, or keep up the premises.
I have noticed a resemblance between them and the trailer trash beings portrayed in Hollywood films living in a concrete house with no paint left on the walls.

Squeaky, his partner, is shaped as a turtle. Her voice pierces my ears, her laugh drills my ear drums. She can not cook without banging the spoon against
the border of the metal pan loudly, or place the dishes without the glass clink-clank, or close the kitchen cabinet doors without slamming and banging.

That is next door. In the building next to this ADAMS family lot, there is a five story apartment
building with many unpleasant characters with too many children little or no education, and little or no money. Rent averages $600, for a two dormitories in concrete railroad wagon shaped housing.

The worst of them all is the little dwarf. Pardon. Little people if you may, even though she is not
a dwarf, is small, not too thin. Her body reminds one of pigmees and walks as if a plaintain or
foreing object is stuck in her sphincter, that kind of walk. I speculate that perhaps is consequence of having six multicolored children. A welfare single mother. Pays no rent, water,
electricity since the government does it for her.

The noises from her apartment on the third floor. Loud with the bass to the top shitty, vulgar,
REGUETON, a genre developed in the concrete-asphalt cement isle. It has been fifteen years
or more that this unmelodic, irritating music, without any social value has been around.

Like graffiti, it has become an pandemic. It is a joke. Most of the themes of this dull music
are sex, sex, drugs, gold, money, big ugly ESCALADES, Bentleys, Lanborghinis, swimming pools,
girls with b i g butts, huge b r e a s t s just like tumors. Also, lame criticism to the police, justice
system, high income families and so on. Maybe, just maybe, if there was some intelligent poetry/rhymes in their six grade written/sung poems with a loud annoying bass sound in the
foreground, one could attempt to listen to it.

Back to the noise from the little people. Her squeaky voice is similar to Squeaky, but is herd more frequently: I am going to get you, I am going to beat you, stay there, turn it down are
the most common screams herd down here forty feet away.

OTHER common noises in PUERTO RUIDO: Cars, motorcycles acelerating in this residential zone, car alarms, people beeping their horns to anounce their arrival. Others hollering names
as if they were in the neck of the woods. The air conditioner feeders, the air extractor from the
cafeteria, the swimming pool filters in COLEGIO SAGRADO CORAZON, who apparently bought
the right to pollute with all these noises, some of them 24/7.

The INTENSITY of all these noises become intolerable because all the yards in Santurce, at least
3/4 of any yard is covered by concrete. Thus every house becomes a resonance chamber. Considering how much noise wears one out, it is remarkable that we do not have more criminals,
suicides and such. SILENCE is really scarce in metro areas. It is like being in DEATH VALLEY,
in search for water.............

THE BLOG STALKER HAS RETURNED

LIFE was going smoothly as a matter of writing. However, it could not last.
The stalker from GRAMAS LINDAS, alleged 'agronomist' you could check
my review on this ENVIRONMENTAL CRIMINAL, on endemismotrasnochado,
16 April 2009, dropped by to leave one of his unsolicited opinions. One that is repeated. What have I done, is the question.

I believe I wrote in the past about the issue with the following argument; films, restaaurant, architecture, literature critics, make criticism. That is what they do. NO ONE has to direct movies, design buildings or write novels, or cook to express educated opinions on each of these subjects. What is it difficult to understand about
this?

Check his concern from his unwelcome visit. The town, appearing in the post, is wrong! Who really cares if not many people in the isle of asphalt-concrete read
this poorly written blog. Another of his concerns.

Now this entrepeneur, making a bundle, if his alleged claims are correct, is also
critical of my abrasive, blunt, manner of writing. This also includes my manners.
To such a point that I, the little maggot, have become the point of reference to write
about the environment or anything that comes to his pathetic mind and likewise
blog. This masterpiece flows once a month, reactionary, productive as the soil in Haiti or Death Valley. Imaginative, sharp as a dull rusty knife. Always based on the ideas, concepts,
views appearing here once in a while.

Imagine if you had to live with that. An agronomist that should be planting boniato,
planting GRASS AND PALMS, stealing money from the lay person, destroying our environment directly, our resources, with irrigation, oil, gas, and selling TURF/PALMS to ignorant fools, just
like cigarette companies make their huge profits without losing any sleep.

Gonzalez Bauza, scum, stick to making money, its your decission. Please go away.
Drop dead. OR create a FOUNDATION. The endemismotrasnochado foundation. Fight for a fair treatment of the environment, habitats, and ecology. YOU are a pharisee, prostitute making money through out your operations, destroying it daily, aiding and deceit.

Pretend endemismo does not exist. YOU are an environmental CRIMINAL. All
those landscaping companies with your colleagues installing shitty landscapes such as Caribe Landscaping Contractors created in your image, feathers of the same bird.

further information
gramas lindas
gonzalez bauza
sales@gramaslindas.com
yamir@gramaslindas.com
787-798-1386
50% discount
when mentioning
ENDEMISMO!

A MEMORABLE CONVERSATION

I WAS TAKING notes in my notebook, sitting in an uncomfortable homemade sofa in the lobby of a far away hospital in Aibonito City.
For the last twenty years, in Puerto Rico there is a trend to write direction signs and those in city vehicles in English, for some urge of being closer to USA.

Any way, this guy asked politely if he could sit to have his recently bought fast food. If I did not mind. I said no with some feeling of surprise. Such manners are not the rule in the asphalt/concrete isle. The conversation started, I put aside my notes.

Mr. Marrero, pale skinned, around 5'10", perhaps 190, with glasses, a smooth voice, good diction and ability to tell anecdotes, came from Tampa where he lives with his family. His house is one of those with turf and a swimming pool. Retired from
from all you can be: US Army. Had spent the last five days at the hospital
taking care of his mother, and of his wife before that, after some serious
surgery.

At my age it is rare to find Puerto Rico nationals with the ability to keep
a conversation with space to listen besides the talking. This was one of
those realy rare situations.

He had left the island from his hometown of Barranquitas, another small
town in our neck of the woods, at the age of seventeen. Went to Philadelphia, thanks to the kindness of a friend who bought the airfare.

One of the first adventures in that foreign, cold land, was witnessing the
murder of another national in some bar fight spilled on the street. The victim received one of those mortal cuts from ear to ear. When he asked
his roomate, about the occurrence, the response indicated that it was usual, customary to see that type of incident once a month.

We talked about discrimination. Why do people discriminate foreigners.
I mentioned that it is logical to dislike people who go to your country with
inddiference towards the habits of the host nation. I mentioned the first
experience I had in Chicago, the miserably cold, windy, beautiful city.

It was just a party in the apartment of some puerto rican fellow. When I entered the lobby of the apartment building with Adolfo Jimenez (RIP), at the time the director of the Bilingual Program, al was fine. However, when we exited in the fourth floor, the stench of fried food and lard had
covered the whole floor. I found it disgusting.

Imagine the smell of Indian food and so many excellent gastromical dishes
from so many countries in heated aparments in a country that certainly
cooks or used to cook without species of any kind, bland food, without smell except during cook outs.

That is one. The other is the absurd habit of speaking loudly as hicks do
in their country surroundings far away from each other. Or the other,
listening to music all the way up, placing the speakers on the window
sill, creating havoc among the native population. Too often is music I do not like for reasons of taste, in one hand.
On the other, the ignorant use of a stereo system that in the past had trebble and bass control, to eliminate distortion and vibrations, a really
annoying thing.

Perhaps the best story to explain discrimination, is the one of some islander from New York and her husband an Ecuadorian, who moved next door to Mr. Marrero. They have loud parties constantly, allow the turf
to deteriorate and the swimming pool became an algae pond, green and
thick! People from apartments, who had lived all their life in such, have
no idea on the expense and requirements of keeping up a house.

To put the end close by...We also talked about nature, insects, birds, squirrels finding ways to eat the bird food, insecticides, herbicides and the results to careless people. USA government and the need to
impose democracy in countries without oil, but allowing the Arabs and
such, their feudal ways, without rights for women and others.

There are other details that escape my mind. But three remarkable themes were not touched: music, religion, politics. Perhaps that is
what makes the conversation memorable. An exchange of perspectives,
shared, not impossed. ONE in a million.

A 160 YEARS OLD TERMINALIA CATTAPA

WALKING, about, around, by those mostly depressed streets except by the
houses here and there with some character, even if ugly, poor, wealthy, wood or concrete, big or small. With homey architecture from the thirties, sixties, or even after that. With the surprised cats in some alley
irritating barking or sleeping, friendly dogs.

The houses, there are too many abandoned for his liking, with graffiti
del guetto covering wall after wall with meaningless tags signs of territorial boredom, poverty and artistic ambition? This cumbersome
social expression seems meaningless without any connection with this surroundings, even if some museum,
masters thesis social work idiots believe it is art..Maybe. But everyone in that bag forget where is it? What is the intention? If one believes is art fine. But do you need someone to interpret the hell this spray cans artists want to share?

In one of those pathetic streets where one can find tens of weeds three/five feet high, some really beautiful wild flowers attracting bees, seeds for birds, hiding places for our endemic iguanas, lizards, or those green big iguanas that national islanders bought as pets getting bored with them and throwing them out...Now those big green
dinosaur like ones are part of our Puerto Rico USA, urban/rural scenery eating everything they find in sight, many passing away as road kill in our highways and roads. Some, a few, becoming shish cababs.

But what made him write this time was the tremendous, majestic, perhaps
eight feet in diameter, eighty feet in height TERMINALIA CATAPPA, displaying the thick branches towards the entrance of an auto mechanic shop. Creating that kind of shade that is not sickening and dark but happily
bright, the breeze moving the big thick leaves towards the west.

He stopped on his tracks and mentioned to a quiet fellow sweeping the sidewalk the immaculate beauty of the whole scene. The person with
the broom stopped, made eye contact and engaged in a brief conversation.

The answer appears on the tittle, but the kindness and interest went beyond the question. How do you know, a habitual question when anyone responded to any inquiry that jumped on his mind... A not
friendly person to nature had destroyed some other vegetation and
the authorities came to determine the value of this incredible specimen.

How to you know? The soft street cleaner, quietly responded that some time ago, the government agent who came to judge
the situation cut pieces of bark, placed them in some chemical solution deducting the age of this tree that made his day.

In front of an auto body shop, like many he had been to as a child, where his dad, an artist of autobodyrepairs took him to play, observe a trade that
changed totally when tin was substituted by bond. But that is a story for
another day.

THINGS ARE NOT AS WE
SEE THEM
BUT
AS WE REMEMBER THEM
Ramon del Valle Inclan

EPILOGUE TO CHURCH....

My previous post about the church, those requiring a fat book to be read
repeated and interpreted every day of the year, responsible for this destruction, requires an epilogue with context.

Every one wants to save (their soul), whales, gorillas, you name it. However, with
this rate of population growth, the radical /speedy destruction of ecological/environmental habitat, its consequence, in addition to desertification, destruction of forests in Brazil, pollution of oceans with garbage, plastics and, cruisers/oil tankers refuse and plastics to name a couple, melting polar caps, CO2 emissions...

Save your soul, save your soul, goody/goody, soon there will be no water, clean air or food to feed the wretched of the earth, who have destroyed it with their impregnating habits.

Think about it. After all, we are all in the same ship/boat..

CHURCH WILD POPULATION GROWTH = ENVIRONMENTAL DESTRUCTION

For some time now some people have studied, researched, informed the media, attempted to spread the word, to do something about it. The facts fell on deaf ears. The church, all of them, pretended all was fine.

After all the interest of the church is keeping the herd,
obedient, following the sheepherder. To save the soul
for the after life. Abortion is a sin, sex as a carnal exchange is, protection against disease or impregnation is also a sin. Only abstinence seems cool to this backward institution.

In another blog an obscure failed groupie, complained
about my remarks regarding the church total indifference towards the environment and the constant destruction of it. After some meditation, I have no doubts. Opposing any responsible view as a sin, risking the possibility of heaven, stop many religion fanatics from acting reasonably regarding sex. There is no need for more people on earth now. PERIOD.

Watching the news on tv from SPAIN, you see the bunch of dark skinned fellows in overflowing boats migrating illegally, to find
a job, a better life, "for their children". In USA, very
recently, before the financial deflation result of avarice, MEXICANS, were the headlines in all types
of media. 12 million of them. Italy, France, have the same problem. Starving people looking for a better life "for their children". Or themselves.

Some academics, economists, of the leftist persuasion justify or explain this with actions
in the past. These are historical facts, well documented of colonialism and exploitation in those countries where people reproduce as rabbits.

The church was an ally in those periods of colonialism.
The bible in one hand, the sword in the other. That was
the motto. That was then. Now what?

I have been writing about horticulture, environment, ecology and forestry issues, edible gardens, the total lack of aesthetics in garden installations in Puerto Rico
USA, water waste irrigating turf, noise,
pollution with herbicides, fungicides, fertilizers, insecticides, lawnmowers, blowers,trimmers, you name it. All that seems wrong to yours truly.

However I have reached the Everest. If all these starving bastards do not stop having sex with children, now, tomorrow or the day after, there will be no more room for any one. No food, water, or clean air to breath.

And people like myself, better prepared to live now and complain constantly, to improve my surroundings, to better now will be destined to die sooner because the CHURCH does not condone abortion or ANY medical birth control, to accelerate the destruction of earth, and certain death. Heaven illussions for some of them...Hell on earth for the rest...

IS REALITY WHAT I WANT TO ACOMMODATE MY IDEAS?

FOR the last couple of days I have felt the scent when I go out to walk Diva,
our animal of company,( since pet have fell into political incorrectness), as soon as I opened the door to our east garden. I wondered what the hell could smell so nice, it has some sweetness, but not similar to Gardenias, Frangipani, Mirabilis siciliana, or orange/lemon.

The mystery was solved today around five pm. While I was using my retro stationary bicycle in the back yard, I took a glimpse trying to follow unknown ocean side birds and saw it right there, the intense yellow flowers of the PTEROCARPUS. One scent that has to be in to top five. I stated my dislike for Ylan-ylan and Nerius Oleander, already.

Which reminds me of this idiot from the east who wrote in her blog about the Four o'clock flower and I the good hearted with credentials creative critic, mentioned the great fragrance of the flower (Mirabilis siciliana), and she
stated that hers did not smell... As it was my fault or I did not know what
I was writing about.

This in turn forces me to write about other anecdote since I am writing about scent. I used to worry about readers or not, wondering if there was
anyone reading the crapy output, often original, that I deliver. Now, after
navegating the web regularly, I witness the mentally challenged comments that
people into plants, who have gardens, who write about horticulture
leave behind. It is beyond tolerance.

This woman mentioned the great scent of Ixoras in the comment section. The host, seems infatuated with this worn out/overused bush in Puerto Rico. The guy was very gentle. Told the fool that Ixoras have no scent whatsoever...What would I have done?

I would have questioned this ever present lady in the comments, if she
really had Ixoras or a problem as the lady with her Four o'clock, or if she
thought that every one of my blogs required her trivial, meaningless feedback.

And back to you in the studio..

What is the problem with MEXICANS, first it was SALMONELLA, in produce, now is some hog fever that is driving everybody nuts. By the way, I am recovering from the worst cold I ever had in my 57 not heinz. Could it had been the pig fever? It seems from this event that now, now everything that is bad becomes global..

I wonder if AlKAEDA, the Bin Laden fellows know anything about biology
since it would be very simple to really screw up those countries that have shown no respect for their backward primitive, male chauvinist religious
belief. Imagine what life is going to become.

Some fellows create a pest in a lab, preferably flu like and start spreading
it just as those martyr idiots for 72 virgins who blow themselves up. A question comes to mind, what do they offer to the women who are blowing themselves up more recently?

Back to the MEXICANS, these guys are really wild, but not refined, sophisticated as the COLOMBIANS, murdering wise. Over six thousand
people have been shot in the Narco Wars in Ciudad Juarez, about the same or less than USA casualties in Irak. I have since 1990, in an article
published in El Diario/La Prensa suggested that all DRUGS be legalized.

This is the rigth moment. With the financial, banking, real estate, securities, insurance crisis...This megabucks should be taxable. I do not
care about any other issues. The alcohol prohibition was more damaging
than allowing the populace drink. On the other hand, if alcohol and cigarettes are legal and sold why not?

Imagine: coke/heroin, acid, pot, hashish, mescaline, crystal meth, and any
imaginable drug for social mingling, networking was legalized.. There would be no more shoot outs since the monopoly would be in the hands
of the state, just as alcohol and cigarettes are.


As a former freedom fighter in Deutshland Bundesrepublik 1975-1976, I learned everything that any educated person with credentials needs to know about drug in practice/theory. Except with the use of needles, I can not see blood. Never felt the urge to put anything in my veins.

Therapy and counseling will be offered for junkies unable to control the
urge. Just like there are bariatric surgery, therapy for morbose eaters.
What is your argument for a rebbuttal? Good luck and let it flow.

POLLINATING FROM BLOG TO BLOG

I decided to start something else to avoid the feeling of being lost in a swamp, a sensation intensified when I leave the house for a drive or a stroll. All the concrete,
asphalt, noise, heat, traffic jams, people hollering, car alarms, in brief living in an isle with noise,
air, visual, pollution is not easy.

Perhaps, visiting other blogs from this isle written in Spanish or English and taking, quoting the best/and the worst from the multiple possibilities would be a great entertainment for yours truly and
readers with critical capabilities. What is good and what is not in, anglospano review will be based only in my belief that the political, ecological, environmental, economical situation here and the rest of the world is really screwed up in terms of
priorities and focus.

Well, perhaps it will be more useful to include in our criticism, observation of other blogs moving away to cover those from other countries, since my perception as
a reader, from these far away places is very similar to Puerto Rico. The view of what seems real is absurd. Not only that. When you point to others the why and how, they
pretend you wrote nothing. Turning their face the other way.

I often wonder if it is some disease, the stupidity to comprehend what is logical and evident...we shall return ....

One example of this rare need to repeat themselves, to scratch each other backs,
embracing the flag at the most insignificant provocation, is the lesperian matriarch,who has recently embraced the ecological/environmental pathetic situation in Puerto with destroyed trees in the metro area and adyacent municipalities.

But these same senior environmentalist, when questioned regarding the repeated denunciation of the destruction of twelve acres in Parque Donha Ines/Fundacion Luis Munhoz Marin, in Trujillo Alto, responded "one has to choose the battles to be fought"...and on and on. Well, I decided to laugh my heart out at this improvised, superficial, wordy and meaningless fashion to defend
the environment without planting anything, just posing as the bag lady of our ecological suicide.

On top of that, from her throne in Condominio el Monte, she proclaims who is the best environmental this or that, the best blogs and so on and so forth. It is amazing, all these empty words, symbolic gestures, collecting a thousand signatures for trees already mutilated and killed, then what? On the other hand, this destruction takes
place all over the island, by the government, housing construction companies, highways and many others. The criteria to pick which one becomes your pet
ecological suicide what is it?


Where are the credentials? What have you planted? What can you identify? Have you, noticed the mutilated trees surrounding your neighborhood? Why the need
to pose constantly? Who anointed you?