Prologue, Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
Marcus Josué McKinnison meandered the streets of Ensenada, Mexico, making his way gradually to the meeting spot. He knew it well; the small restaurant had great fish tacos and his stomach grumbled at the thought. A breeze blew in from the west, across All Saints Bay, helping to make the midday heat bearable. He wore a light cotton, button-down shirt that allowed the breeze to blow up from the bottom. The sweat cooled his dark skin. He adjusted the wide-brim, straw hat on his afro as he strolled up the hill in the midday bustle.
Marcus turned right at the corner and spotted the SUV, a second one across the street, midway down the block. He thought he recognized both drivers and one of them may have spoken into his wrist as Marcus approached. He walked into the restaurant, let his eyes adjust to the shadows, out of the sun, and made his way to the back. Hector sat alone at a table, but Marcus made note of the burly men spread throughout the place. Hector looked up from his menu and then handed it to a waitress as she came by; he said something, showed two fingers, but his smile was infectious when he saw Marcus. He stood up with his eyes and arms opened wide.
“Sta mio grand muchaco! Aiyee! Mi compadre.” Hector came out from behind the table and took Marcus’ handshake and then pulled him in for a hug. Marcus stiffened at first, but appreciated the gesture. Hector swatted him on the back and squeezed him, picked him up off the floor and then put him back down.
“Come, come, sit down. Sientate, sientate.” He held out Marcus’ chair, took his hat, and set it on the empty chair. Marcus eased himself into the seat and could feel the tension releasing out of his shoulders; he hadn’t realized how anxious he had been about the meeting. The heat, the smell of the fresh tortillas, light, golden brown chips still sizzling with grease on the wax paper, guacamole mashed in a pestle bowl, next to a deep red sauce… Hector poured from a cold pitcher of beer into a tall glass in front of each of them before he sat down.
“This El Unico thing seems to have worked out well for you,” Marcus began with a wry smile.
“We are all part of the One and Only, my friend.” Hector looked around appreciatively, leaned back in his chair, and spread his arms. “And it’s about to get a lot bigger and better,” he grabbed some chips and dipped them in the guacamole, waiting for Marcus to ask the question. “And I have you to thank for all of it.”
Marcus made him wait, grabbed a handful of chips himself, raised his eyebrows, and finally spoke after a few crunches.
“Okay, I’ve been half-paying attention to the news… what are you up to?”
Hector leaned forward and clasped his hands.
“Well, I’m glad you asked,” he said with a wink. “You are looking at the next governor of the Free State of Northern Mexico… which will shortly be joining the Free States of America. Provisional at first, but then…”
Marcus raised his eyebrows, then took a few more chips. “Politics now, eh, El Presidente? Or should I say El Jefe?”
Hector laughed.
“Those fucking cabrons in some of the less, uhh, enlightened parts of the country were never going to give me, give us, what we earned, bro. There wasn’t gonna be any Jorge Washington, know what I mean?” he exaggerated the accent with flair. “There was never going to be a headline,” and now he spread his hands apart in front of his face, like there was a marquis: “‘Heroic Mulatto Liberates the Republic.’” He started laughing, reached across the table, and slapped Marcus’ shoulder. Marcus just grinned; Hector was one of the few people who knew Marcus’ parentage.
“Naah, esse, your black-Irish ass, my beaner ass,” he went on, hooked a thumb at himself, “were never going to stand up and give speeches to middle America. That was always going to go some whitebread governor, my negro. That’s fine.” Hector waved his hand and then grabbed some more chips.
“But–” he held up his forefinger for emphasis, “I’ll give the ’necks credit, they at least keep their word, unlike those fuckin’ commies…” Marcus was curious and gave Hector what he knew he wanted, Marcus’ fullest attention.
“Okay… what? So, you get to be provisional governor of New New Mexico?” Hector held his eyes. “How the fuck did you pull that off? I didn’t know you had friends in Mexican politics.”
“Politics?” Hector snorted. “Nah, I went above their heads. I made some deals, Josué.” Hector winked. Only two people had ever called Marcus by his Haitian name. His mother – and the big man with the perfect teeth across the table. “I got two of the cartels to come to the table…” Marcus had a flashback to Afghanistan, standing in the back of a gun truck with Hector, poppy as far as the eye could see. “I’ve got a cousin in, uhhh, trucking. Whoof, what he could do with this.” They’d all laughed at him.
Marcus was trying to piece it together, while Hector rambled on. “…had a meeting with some of the cabrons, the big boys,” he continued, “and I convinced two that there will be plenty of money, real money, if they become real fucking businessmen. I explained to him the difference… what was it you said?”
And now Marcus’ brain started to spin. Hector dipped a chip in some salsa and pointed it at Marcus for emphasis.
“– You said, ‘the difference between being a drug dealer and the CEO of a pharmaceutical company…’”
“…is the scope of their ambition. One is happy to be hunted like a dog for a little money…” Marcus added, his mind replaying the memory.
“– and the other makes real money and dictates policy to Presidents. One of those is never going to jail, you said,” Hector finished, then took a swig of beer.
Marcus raised his eyebrows and sipped his own beer again. It was cold, slightly bitter, the perfect complement to the chips, guac, and salsa.
“So… you asked me to meet you me here to tell me that you’re going into business as a drug dealer??” Marcus asked. “And I still don’t get how you got the cartels involved in this? What do the Free States get out of it and how in the hell did you get them to agree?” Marcus asked in rapid fire.
A waitress walked up at that moment with two plates of fish tacos and sat the steaming dishes down in front of each man.
“I ordered when I heard you were, ah, comin’ up the street; I know you love the fish tacos.” Marcus just nodded and the men sat in silence for a few moments and ate; it was a tradition they’d had since Afghanistan. Marcus thought it was the best he’d felt since he’d left the District.
“What do they get, Hector?” Marcus finally asked after a few bites, the cream sauce sliding out the side of the taco and onto the plate.
“A lot.” Hector dusted salt off of his hands from the chips. “No more War on Drugs. It’s over. Free people can stick – or not!” He raised his eyebrows and Marcus grimaced. It had been the vaccine mandates that started them down this road. “–whatever the fuck they want to in their bodies. Or not! Or not. We live with the consequences, amigo. No more door-kicks, none of that fuckin’ bullshit.” Hector picked up his beer and was about to take a drink before he stopped and held up his glass: “To you, my friend, the man who taught me about the alternatives – the possibilities – while standing in poppy fields as far as the eye could see. You saw what I could not; you showed me the way.”
Marcus wasn’t sure how to take it, but held up his glass, and took a sip. He let the cool liquid slide down his throat, some of it spilling out onto his beard and soaking his moustache. “Ahhhhh…” he sighed. He kept thinking about the implications and then something clicked.
“But… how? What was their cut – and what’s yours? I don’t get it.”
Hector put this beer down and smiled.
“Ai, Papi…” he started laughing. “It won’t be like that. No more killing. This will be legit.” He grabbed his beer again.
“I solve a lot of their problems, Esse. Illegal immigration? No more. We’re basically western Texas in the Sonora, Baja, and all the way across to Monterrey, Reynosa, all that shit, down to a place called Las Carreras.” Hector let it sink in.
He stared at his friend for a moment. “Warm water ports, Papi. On the west and east coasts of the Yucatan.” Marcus stared.
“So…” Marcus began, “you cut a deal…”
“Oh, si si si. I cut a big deal with the FSA… to make up for losing Los Angeles up to Portland and Boston and New York. The commies think they won that negotiation because they only gave up San Diego and got to keep Long Beach, San Francisco, Seattle, all the way up. Jefferson got its own piece of dirt, but no coast. Spokane inland…” He took another sip of the amber liquid and put it on the table.
“I was their ace-in-the-hole, Marcus. I got my people, our people, the FSA – all of this,” he sat back and opened his arms, “east and west coast warm water ports, my friend, more than covers what was lost in the northeast and out west. That’s how the United States originally set the state boundaries, you know? Get everyone access to a river so they can get to a seaport.” He looked around and smiled. “Fuck that Panama Canal, too. How much easier if we put rail or roads across this stretch of the Yucatan?”
Marcus was stunned into silence; he had no idea of the scope of his friends’ ambition.
“Eh, look, the USA just shifted a few parallels south, mi amigo,” Hector took a giant bite of his fish taco. “And it got a little thinner.” He moved his hands down and inward at an angle. “Oh, yeah,” he mumbled while chewing, “And I got rid of the war on drugs.” He leaned forward again. “Even the cartels could see what it meant. And so could the red-staters in the ol’ USA… Why would immigrants stream north of the Rio Grande when I can bring America right down here, cabron.” He raised his eyebrows. “You’re not the only one who plays chess, Homie. Or cards.”
Marcus just stared at him, his mind racing.
“I took a page out of your people’s book.”
Marcus looked quizzically at Hector.
“My people’s book? How you figure that?”
“Look at what the Wops and the Irish – your people – did.” Hector winked again. “They got labor and transportation first. Dockworkers, truckers, unions, and then eventually they got into selling drugs – coke, mostly, when it couldn’t be ignored. Well, there’s nothing that says you can’t go the other direction, Marcus. We had drugs first, but now we’ll get the ports, the dockworkers, trucking, all of it. Mexican SimCity, baby!” Hector laughed.
“With the money you make from selling coke?” Marcus hissed.
“Hey. Heyheyhey.” Hector shook his finger. “Mister Free Markets, we’re going full Portugal. That’s part of the deal, too. We – the cartels included – take on the whole of it: rehabilitation, courts, all of it. Just like a legitimate corporation would. You were the one who told me there’ll always be some portion of the population that will do drugs. Prohibition doesn’t work.” Hector shrugged and took another bite of fish taco.
“I have a long-term play, too, cabron,” he said, lettuce slipping out the side of his mouth. He finished his bite. “To help get people off the smack – so you can stop looking at me like that. Decriminalizing drugs means we can use plant medicines – the real stuff, the ancient shit. Peyote, psilocybin, mushrooms, ayahuasca, the toad…maybe a little MDMA, too, Josué. I’m gonna bring people back to God.”
Marcus raised his eyebrows incredulously. “What!?”
“Josué, I told you before! I smoked peyote when I was fifteen as part of our ceremonies. I smoked the toad at sixteen and became a man. This is part of what my people do. All the gringos coming down south to fix their PTSD, to find God, our God… No more war on drugs, Marcus, my people get to be a part – a legitimate part – of America, man.”
“You’re going to convince drug dealers to help you get people off of drugs?” Marcus leaned forward and whispered. “Do your business partners know this, Hector?”
“Look, I’ve got to deliver on some big promises or… we lose our provisional status –”
“– that’s not all you’ll lose,” Marcus interrupted. “You’re gonna lose that thing attached to your shoulders.” Marcus pointed to his friend’s face.
“Marcus, everyone’s tired of war. Even the cartels.” Hector took another large bite of a taco. “You know they, umm, provided some of the muscle for… that, uh, other… that last op.”
“Ohhh.” Marcus’ chest went cold. “You already had this in the works, eh? Cartels as muscle. Fuck me. How many families, Hector?” Marcus shook his head side to side.
Hector leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Less than a thousand.” He tipped forward and looked at Marcus squarely. “You – Cand – the AI… it was right, man. We had teams waiting when El Bitchedente declared martial law. Moral sanction, my man…” Hector took the last bite of his first fish taco and let the phrase hang. “They self-identified anyway, Josué. The vaccine thing… We, uh, saw the signal… and sent our response. Those who responded weren’t living behind walls like Afghanistan, Marcus, so… you know, no one was expecting…”
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
“A thousand families sounds like several thousand innocent people,” Marcus pushed back from his food and stared at Hector. Hector crunched some chips, slowly.
“Mmm. How many righteous to keep God from destroying the Sodomites, eh, Marcus? Always the same question.” He swallowed. “This was a fucking war. The men… with those families, just a few years ago were calling you a dirty, unvaccinated nigger and ready to throw you in a fucking camp.” He pointed to the side, as if there was a camp outside the door. “We,” he jabbed his thumb into his own chest and a finger at Marcus, “are not the bad guys.” He looked around the restaurant and seemed to realize he had raised his voice.
“You think Washington wouldn’t have done what we did if it would have cut the Revolution down to a matter of weeks and not years?? You think it was better that Grant wasted tens of thousands first…? Or that Sherman showed the South what… It, War, really is? Hell, Truman dropped two fucking nukes on Japan – and I know you don’t think that was wrong. I’ve heard you argue that with other people!” Hector stared off out one of the side windows of the restaurant, then finally looked back to his friend.
“Josué, I don’t regret it. I won’t apologize for it. We lost people, too. Good people.” Hector’s voice rose. “I count Candace the first casualty of the War – the Lord smile on her blessed memory.” Hector bowed his head and said a whispered prayer in a language Marcus didn’t recognize. His shoulders shook while he sobbed quietly for a moment. He looked up, “I do not regret watering the tree of Liberty, Marcus. Not for Candace, not for you, and not for the people we lost… Not for what we got, either.”
Marcus held up his hand and lowered his head, the tears falling onto his plate. It was a while before either man spoke.
“I’m not saying tha-” Marcus began.
“No, I know you’re not, Josué,” Hector reached his big hand across the table and covered Marcus’ for a moment, “but it’s like you’re only capable of excusing other people’s actions, never your own. Know what I mean?” Hector leaned back and they sat in silence for a little longer. He poured more beer into their glasses and took a deep breath.
“All of this is a lot better than a long civil war, amigo. As far as national divorces go, this is about as good as it can get… And there is a lot of work to be done. Look, I-” Hector sat forward slightly, “I know how bad you hurt, man. And I know you hadn’t thought beyond Kendrick, probably just wanted to curl up somewhere and, uh… but Brother – this is what we have. These are the cards we’ve been dealt.” He sat back. “Shit, I’m thinking we’re going to have to build a border along the San Andreas fault because in three years – after the commies get done eating themselves – we’re going to have a different immigration problem. We’ll get it all back eventually.” He laughed to himself. “Marcus, we have a seat at the table now. With leverage, man. A chance to implement some real solutions. Like no more sovereign immunity. No pubsec unions.”
Marcs stared at his friend. He wasn’t sure whether to be terrified or in awe.
“You think you’re going to get anyone to agree with that?”
“Hey – those were some of the terms for this piece of dirt.” He pointed down. “I’m gonna try, Homes. We need leadership now, Marcus. Real leadership. I didn’t do this so I could win the war and then lose the fucking peace.”
Marcus nodded. He understood in his head, if not in his heart. Hector was right; he hadn’t thought beyond Kendrick. The truth was that he’d hoped to die in the maelstrom afterwards in the District, but Hector had made sure he was never without security, moving him from one mission, and safe-house, to another, barely enough time to rest, always men there with him.
“I’m tired too, Hector. I just wonder when everyone stops being a means to someone else’s ends,” Marcus took a long draught of his beer.
“Not until Gabriel toots his little trumpet, amigo,” Hector made like he was playing one. After a bite of his second taco, Hector pulled a manilla envelope from off of the chair next to him and slid it across the table. “Passports and some kicking around cash.” Marcus started to argue but Hector held up his hand.
“Please just take the cash. It’s not a ton, but enough. Clean money. Passport’s Canadian. If you take the cash, I’ll stop having you followed.
Promise.” Marcus looked up.
“You’ve been having me followed?”
“Ohhh, like you didn’t fuckin’ know.” Marcus smirked for a moment. “Don’t look at me like that. You’d do the same thing if the situations were reversed. Silly cabron, think I’m gonna let something happen to my boy, hunh?”
Marcus dumped the passport out and opened it to see his new identity.
“Canadian?” Marcus asked.
“They’re the Switzerland of the Western Hemisphere, man. Nobody bothers Canadians.”
Marcus flipped open the passport.
“Bartholomew J. Sampson?” He read out loud. “You made me Bart Sampson? Bart fucking Sampson, you asshole?” Marcus knew that Hector was a huge fan of The Simpsons. Hector tried to hide his smirk by wiping his mouth with a napkin, then held up hands.
“Come on, man, you know how bad I am at alias names and shit like that?! Listen. I did you a solid… The boys were gonna make you O.J. Sampson, but I said that was out of bounds, Homes. Not for my negro.”
Marcus just shook his head and laughed. Hector joined him and then threw some napkins across the table. Marcus wiped his face and then looked at his friend.
“I can’t believe you wasted good money just to set up that joke!” and both men started laughing again.
“Hey, with that ‘fro you’ve got going on now, and the Mod Squad moustache, you’re lucky we didn’t go for Linc!”
Both men laughed again, like they hadn’t since Afghanistan.
“Okay,” Hector said seriously, then held out his hand. “Where is it? Whatchoo got for me? C’mon.”
Marcus took a deep breath, then reached to the back of his pants and pulled a manilla envelope sealed with tape from where he’d been carrying it. He dropped it onto the table between them, but left his hand on it for a moment.
“Ahhh,” Hector crooned, like he was looking at lost gold. “C’mon now, Josué,” he said softly, but he didn’t reach for it.
Marcus took his hand off of it and picked up his beer. A deal was a deal, after all. Hector picked up the envelope and held it like he was weighing it.
“Seems a little light,” Hector said and winked. Marcus scowled, but he knew Hector had been right – again. It had helped to write it.
“A hundred and eighty-seven pages of my soul, fuckin’ beaner.” Hector smiled, but his eyes were watering. He placed the envelope delicately off to the side of the table.
“I could use some help, amigo,” Marcus just looked across his plate and Hector held up his hands in response. “Okay. Fine. Respect.” He looked around the restaurant.
“Look, there’s an open ticket in there,” now he pointed to Marcus’ envelope, “to Cabo. When you’re ready, come down. Please. Por favor.”
Marcus shrugged.
“I’ll tell you what, man. I’ll make you one last deal.” Marcus could feel his scalp tingle. “No. No games,” Hector said, looking at him. “You let me know when you’re going to come down – you come, you do a private ceremony with me, my cousin – he’s a shaman…ayahuasca and the toad, amigo.”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “And in return? I get what?”
Hector smiled.
“In return you’ll find God, learn to be alive again,” Marcus grimaced, grunted, and then went back to eating his remaining taco.
Hector folded his arms.
“Okay. What do you get?” Hector cupped his chin, then tapped it a few times with his forefinger. “I’ll tell you what – you come down and do the ceremony and I’ll tell you if I had the nuts… if I drew the straight or I was bluffing. No lie.” Marcus’ head snapped up. Hector crossed his heart and smiled. Marcus looked into his friend’s eyes and the phrase about the sucker at the poker table crossed his mind.
Hector tilted his head, stood up, and grabbed Marcus’ envelope, then threw a stack of bills on the table. He signaled his men with a nod and chairs scraped. He leaned over and put his arm around Marcus’ head, kissed his afro, and whispered:
“Come back and see me, cabron. Por favor. Please. I’m gonna teach you how to forgive yourself.” He stood up and whispered an ancient native blessing over Marcus, then walked past, his hand slipping off of Marcus’s shoulder. Marcus wiped his eyes, then turned over his shoulder.
“Oy, Unico… how will I get a hold of you?” Marcus called.
Hector stopped and turned around. Marcus looked around the restaurant and noticed that everyone else appeared to have something else to do or somewhere else to look.
“Ehhh, Cabron, I’m pretty sure you’ll know how to signal me… I’ll be waiting for it.” Hector turned to walk and then stopped and pivoted back: “Plus, we gotta find you a sweet mamacita to take care of you right, Josué.” El Unico shook his head, saluted, and laughed himself out the door.
Fin…
I think I missed an installment while I was travelling. I need to catch up before reading this.
Prologue, Chapters 1-10, Epilogue
Ah, crap. Sorry about not getting the links to the last two chapters (9, 10).
Can I guy get a little help from an edit fairy? (No rush, it’s cosmetic and I know the edit fairies are busy).
Fixed 7, added 9 and 10.
Bravo! a Well done ending,
Thanks again Ozy.
Very cool ending. Like I’ve said before. This is great work.
Thankee, wd.
It was fun to write and publish here. Mojeaux’s working on turning it into something presentable for publication.
Maybe it’s my first novella. I don’t know.
I really do want to try to publish it on Amazon just to see how long it stays up.
It won’t be taken down until somebody complains, and maybe not even then.
I’m going through my second pass.
Book series, por favor.
This is a good idea. I think Schlicter is on like book 6 of his Kelly Turnbull series.
I didn’t do this so I could win the war and then lose the fucking peace.
Fucking A, that is the heart of the matter. If you’re going to fight, and win, don’t fuck it up after that.
Bravo, Ozy.
BTW, you’re on the List for sure.
I’m on a LOT of lists. I like forcing people to make new lists. 😉
We’re all politically insolvent.
Thank you for writing this series and giving us a respite from the shittiness of today’s world.
Now that was a man with a plan!
Fun read, Ozy.
Palmetto State Armory Bringing Steel Cased Ammo Production To The US
Brandon brings overseas jobs home!
Fairfax County Unionized
They will still walk.
The sole no vote had something to say:
Related: Under new Biden initiative, agencies will do more to educate employees about collective bargaining
“every single individual who walks out of this county who’s been trained and employed by Fairfax County has a taxpayer investment on them”
Every single individual kid from Fairfax County that goes to war and dies has a tax payer investment in them.
Democrats: We’re going to construct a robust system of mutually beneficial patronage that amplifies our power, and we’re going to do it in right in front of your faces and tell you it’s a good thing, and most of you are going to eat it up.
Republicans: [Whine, seethe, cope]
It’s always a mystery why one of these groups is successful and the other isn’t.
^^^^
^ this is how you machine politics
Enjoy turning into New York, Virginia.
I’m so surprised….
Seriously, who couldn’t see that coming?
Someday, when the dollar collapses and DC returns to the shithole it was, all those defined benefit programs are going to be a bit of dead weight on the county budget.
Who knew those dependent on big government vote for bigger government?
I’m sure they’ll continue to proudly congratulate themselves on still meeting their contractual obligations. Sure, after the massive inflation, it’s the equivalent of collecting coupons for the 1/100th of a cent that each is worth, but they’re still going to make those payments!
Thanks Ozy.
Good job on the south-of-the-border solution to one of my main macro concerns about “how to make it work” after the Great Divorce – Pacific ports. I hadn’t thought of that one.
Back at TOS, I suggested we should annex Mexico. Then we could take all the illegals that had been living in the US for a decade or so (and becoming americanized to some extent) and turn them into managers in Mexico.
Seriously? I have, for many, many years (until the last couple) felt that manifest destiny should run North to South as well. Everything down to the Canal should be a state in the USA.
Well, we should take over the whole hemisphere eventually.
Robc had a pithy saying that I can’t completely recall at this point.
https://starstruckcomics.com/glossaryentry/amercadian-space-brigade-the/
Baffin Bay to something Bay.
Seriously though, MX has been getting the short end of the stick for centuries. It’s shameful that a nation with abundant resources and deepwater ports on both coasts is such a basket case.
yep. What’s the root cause? Seriously, I wonder–it has incredible mineral riches and ocean shipping opportunities. It has a burgeoning manufacturing capability. The backbone of mountains presents a difficulty for transcontinental shipping, but it seems like rail transport (or, dare I say, a hyperloop) through Veracruz and Oaxaca states could make up for that.
I think it’s likely due to limited development in the past, for whatever reason. I was surprised how difficult it is to operate manufacting in western Japan–you’d think that as industrialized as Japan is, it would be simple. But our experience was that it was difficult to find people who both wanted to live there, and knew anything about manufacturing, maintenance, operations, etc. The skill sets just weren’t in place in the local population because historically they have been about agriculture and fisheries, it seems.
I’d bet that once Mexico bootstraps a real manufacturing industry that isn’t just beholden to US owners and customers, it will take off and lead to great prosperity. But at the moment, it’s mostly extractive in nature. Get the cartels to invest some of their wealth in domestic manufacturing and keep the profits in Mexico, and that bootstrapping can happen.
What incentive is there for them to invest in such low profit ventures?
Also, one of the contenders for the placement of the tans-america canal before Panama got picked was the narrow part of mexico because it was flat. Panama got picked because it was more politically stable, even though the dig was more onerous and expensive.
What’s the root cause?
Catholic culture versus Protestant work ethic for one. Catholic dominated countries have pretty serious issues with endemic corruption. And Catholicism is traditionally hostile to democracy/republicanism and entrepreneurship. Even a country that loosens the grip of the church is still a society shaped by it. That’s some of the problem in Chile – the social hierarchy where church and state reinforce one another. I think it was Michael Novak who wrote a good book on this.
Max Weber did it a century or more ago.
Protestant work ethic is a myth, or something.
What’s the root cause?
Conquered by the wrong country.
Western Japan- Kansai or Kyushu?
I suppose I should say North-Western Japan. Fukui.
They have a corrupt society. The US had the benefit of British common law and the magma carts. Mexico had Spain sending what amounted to organized criminals to rule as they pleased so long as they paid tribute back to the Spanish crown. Given their resources and a US that has dumped billions into helping them get their shit in order, their floundering is shameful.
Fucking auto correct. Magma carts, while advantageous, aren’t as important as the Magna Carta.
I… love Magma charts.
annex TOS, force some changes
I’m in.
Great stuff…war is hell
Brian Laundrie information. His parents called the FBI and said they were going to search the next day in a park law enforcement had spend weeks searching. Shortly after arriving at the park, at a spot near a trail Brian was known to frequent and close to the park entrance, Brian’s father found a backpack containing Brian’s notebook. Now the park did have more water earlier in the search efforts due to lots of rain but just one more weird piece of information in the case.
Perfect ending.
Thanks, Ozy! This was a fantastic series!
Good show, OZY, but in my mind I think you left an opening. It ain’t over ’til you say it’s over, know what I mean? I still have time to wait… just sayin’
Of course I left it open!
Thanks for the story Ozy
Thanks Ozy, awesome work!
Thanks Ozy, it’s been a fun read.
OT – has anybody seen straff?
Deepfaking Genitalia Into Blurred Porn Leads to Man’s Arrest in Japan
Saw him last night, on Zoom… hmmm.
Safe!
TJ on the other hand…
Police shared a video of a TecoGAN-polished bird with media.
Completely inaccurate to portray what happened. That’s a tit, not a cock.
I figured he was turned into a mutant by the volcanic eruption.
Juvenile-mind strikes in confluence of celestial and celebrity (of a sort) bodies.
How to see Uranus near the full Hunter’s Moon in the night sky this week
I thought you just needed to go to the Met for this
A mirror and a flashlight?
Pfffft! I wish.
Bravo! Great ending. I love the work with the dialogue.
Oh, and by the way, Ozy, you instilled in me an irresistible craving for Mexican food, so I’m rounding the guys up tonight and headed to our favorite place.
My years in San Diego and Santa Cruz spoiled me.
If anyone goes to Santa Cruz, go to Capitola and try the chips and guac at Mijo’s. And their tacos. My man Anthony can make a street taco.
The first time I ever had fish tacos was in San Diego, in about 2003. Amazing!
Next: the story how Dick Slashballs was recruited into the FSNM Secret Service
Fantastic read Ozy! Thank you.
Really, really good. Good enough that I’d pay for a copy on Amazon.
Tell you what, this story would make a great basis for a graphic novel or series thereof.
I thought the same about many of the serials written around here, if we only had an in house illustrator…..
I’d be willing do a small scale test.
I might take you up on that for one of my books.
That would be fun! I’ve never done that before, but it wouldn’t hurt to do an illustration or two to see how it goes. 40 years into it I still haven’t found a way to monetize my artwork. You know were to find me. 🙂
TOK – Can I ask TPTB for your email? I’d love to at least chat you up about what that could look like.
I’ve not seen your artwork, but let’s talk offline.
I have some ideas.
Sure. I won’t even encode it here because it’s my real name, but I have no problem passing it on to you.
Hmmm… I hadn’t considered that medium, but now that you say it, I think you’re right.
I was a huge fan of “The Watchmen”. I still own my original copy I bought back in High School, I believe.
I’m going to miss having Limey around.
https://www.standard.co.uk/news/politics/boris-johnson-social-media-facebook-google-tough-sentences-b961532.html
Well, he could take the illegal alien route via mexico and be on this side of the pond for a while. As long as he avoids horse reigns, the current admin will even help.
I for one welcome our new equestrian overlords!
Narrator: It wasn’t “online hate” that killed that MP.
To steal a line from Mary McCarthy, every word in the Online Harms Bill is foul content, including “and” and “the”.
Thanks for this, Oz. Thursday lunch breaks have been my weekly reprieve from the ugliness for 10 weeks now. And I just love a happy ending ?
Well done, Oz. And probably a better ending than we can hope for in real life.
Meh. I don’t know about that.
Things have a way of sorting themselves out. It’s like Goldblum’s Jurassic Park line: “Life…finds a way.”
We can hope.
Not looking forward to being disemboweled by a velociraptor.
Better than swarmed and pecked to death by compsognathus as you try to escape
But they’re so cute!
Well you could say that the war is over and the real fighting will just begin.
One thing I wanted to share re: the Mexico ports issue.
For weeks the links and discussion around here seem to have all included plot points that I knew were coming, so I’ve been trying to bite my tongue.
It never struck me until I wrote this that a LOT of problems could be solved – and the possibility for a national divorce is a lot more realistic – if the “Clinton archipelago” and ports were offset by gains elsewhere. Northern Mexico seems such a perfect fit and would offer a ton of benefits – but it would require a complete restructuring of the relationship of government to citizen. One would hope that a national divorce would be the time to have that kind of discussion, particularly if the Red States decided to stay together and simply wash their hands of the Prog Centers.
I found the idea of using Mexican ports to replace “blue” ports in the US very interesting.
The mexican mob may be easier to deal with than team blue.
Just have to give the cartel either a reason to be legitimate or enough money to not get in the way. As Ozy explained.
I, too, think you can solve a lot of problems by replacing the “lost” American ports by shifting south. I hadn’t ever really considered it seriously until your writing here.
I remain extremely skeptical that the cartels could be convinced to allow things like private arms ownership and true political freedom. They’re just too much like warlords to allow it.
I’d like to be proven wrong–and maybe an alliance with the southern and south central States would convince them, but I just don’t know.
One more Spark.
Another spark.
Fuck Chil Fil A and their “faster” walk around order taking. Now In N Out is doing it. Still doesn’t make the line shorter, now my food can be either cold or microwaved at the drive thru window. Yay.
Chikfila actually copied In-N-Out on that. In-N-Out had order takers out in the drive-thru line back in the early 90s.
Splitting the line (whether by having 2 order kiosks or by running the kid with the iPad through the line) makes no sense when the bottleneck is the food prep. It only adds stress as now you have to merge lines back together or fix the screwups when the cars don’t arrive in order.
CFA adds a third person after the merge to make sure the orders are in order.
but still as trashy said..if the griddle/prep is woeful, then it doesn’t matter at all. Systems like that require everything to be on point and it works magical.
The distance between the order sign and the window where you pick up your food is called “the stack”. If you have a big stack, your performance metrics will suck because you will spend more time between the two measurement points (the payment window also has a loop sensor but I’m ignoring that).
A store with a short stack will look like it is way more efficient because every one gets to wait before they get to the ordering loop sensor.
Drive offs completely fuck with performance metrics because the sensors only have “car here”/”car gone” capabilities. So all timings are treated like a FIFO buffer. You keep track of events and compare. The problem with a drive off is that now there is an unmatched event.
One of the reasons why new restaurants like to create barriers to prevent you from driving off is NOT to fix this. It is just psychology. If waits are long there are lots of drive offs. If barriers keep you from driving off, you will 99.99999% of the time pay for the food you ordered even though you had to wait forever to get it.
I spent months on a project trying to measure drive thru performance. In reality the metric you should pay attention to are the times cars spend at each window. Trying to calculate total time from placing the order to picking up the food is NOT what you should pay attention to. (OK. for one store it could be used for comparisons between crews/shifts, but you can’t compare two different stores)
NERD!
mos def
It was an interesting project:
1) Dunkin Donuts in the NE are fucking cash cows. When we went to install our IoT device to collect sensor info in the back offices we’d often run into gobs and gobs of cash. This was mid ’00s and all morning people would buy stuff for a couple bucks and pay with cash. The owners skimmed the shit out of that.
2) You never want to go on a junket with my old business partner and I to install a bunch of IoT devices in Rhode Island unless you a) really enjoy juvenile jokes about hefty women working at a donut shop, b) like to be mercilessly mocked by those hefty women because our Minnesoda reading skillz made us really mispronounce names like Wouchester.
3) Read the Manual. One of the fun facts that came out of the project was that the system that monitors drive thru performance locally (we were just tapping into that device for our project) comes with all sorts of overrides that can be programmed if you read the manual. One manager had won $$$ because her store always was the most efficient drive thu in Chicago. When we started reporting numbers it came out that her store was pretty much right in the middle of the pack. All that she had done was read the manual and set a bunch of filters that got rid of all the really bad performances. Since we were just reading the raw sensor data the filters didn’t work for her. Lots of upset managers when that came out.
4) The project failed. Corporate loved it, but the local owners hated it. The owners said the numbers were not accurate enough. My feeling was (and still is) that the owners were worried that corporate was going to notice the massive amounts of skimming that was going on. We were giving corporate accurate car counts and if you had an average order amount, it wouldn’t be hard to do a rough guess on how much the franchisees should be kicking back upstairs.
That’s fascinating. I can’t remember a time here in NYC where we weren’t asked to pull up somewhere away from the cameras/sensors so as to game the timings. It’s universal across brands.
https://ktla.com/news/local-news/shoplifting-suspect-assaults-undercover-officer-with-hatchet-at-riverside-rite-aid-police/
Smooth.
Criminal
*Narrows
gaze*
?
Swissy, are you OK?
So, Swissy, are you OK?
Are you OK, Swissy?
He’s been hit by…he’s been hit by..
GOTO 34
RUN
Worth posting again.
Michael Jackson | SMOOTH CRIMINAL 4:3 | 4K
Amazing what you can do upsample with current video tech. The end shows the before and after.
also worth it
Featuring Michael Jackson’s patented shoes
Let me just say that surcharges are a pricing clusterfuck when it comes to retail.
I’ve spent the last two hours trying to figure out a purchase order that was originally placed in May but only just now all arrived in 6 different shipment on two different price schedules and cannot come up with any way that matches the supplier’s invoicing.
https://www.fox5ny.com/news/porn-star-known-as-aubrey-gold-sentenced-in-death-of-man-found-in-shallow-grave
C’mon Glibs, shoot some snark all over this one.
He got shot in the back of the head because he couldn’t stand looking at that face?
Shallow grave?
Didn’t they hear her yelling at them “Deeper! Deeper! Deeper!”?
She’s being shafted with these bogus charges.
So what? She destroyed the gun? Bought the shovel? What accessorizing did she do?
I’ve seen her porno…you do not wanna know…
Lauren Wambles, life’s in shambles
For Raul was sold Gold, but soul left cold.
A man with three names, William Shane Parker did cry!
For Wambles, life’s stil in shambles.
I got nothing.
Wait,
She didn’t shoot him so I thought we were talking about Missy Cummings.
I have 9 technicians and only 2 have provided the government with their vaccination status. One buckled and is getting the his done, leaving me with 2/3rds of my techs either waiting til last minute to report or say ‘bye!’
My wife hasn’t responded to her company’s questionnaire on her vaccine status yet. I already outed myself to my boss. We will both be in the “working remotely” departure lounge.