voyages of the bloody, snake, chariot

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Wednesday, April 13, 2016 - post date

The Zapatista Revolution - 2016

(to see the ‘narrative of the voyage of the bloody, snake chariot,’

The Zapatista Revolution has been re-absorbed into the
Mayan-language-speaking world of the jungles and highlands of Chiapas,
from which it came. Instead of becoming a new paradigm of world
revolution, it has become an instrument by which
Mayan-language-speaking people are able to separate themselves from
the world-at-large.

It began with the Mexican Marxist intellectuals/revolutionaries -
radicalized by the Tlatelolco Massacre in 1968, and the continuing
dirty war of Mexico in which ten’s of thousands of Mexicans disappear,
are tortured, murdered.

They began living in the Mayan-language-speaking pueblos of Chiapas in
the hope of turning the people into Marxist Revolutionaries. Instead
the Marxist intellectuals/revolutionaries became Mayanized. It began
with Marxists, who saw themselves as the vanguard of the revolution,
telling the Mayans how to make revolution. And yet, the Mayan people
ended up telling the Marxists and anybody else purporting to be
government/governance, that they must do what the people tell them to

On January 1, 1994 the North American Free Trade Agreement went into
effect, eliminating the right of communities to own land communally.
At least 3,000 armed Mayan-language-speaking people took the Mexican
Government and Military by total surprise when they burst out of the
jungle and began taking towns and significant cities on the road to
Mexico City.

The powers-that-be freaked the fuck out!!!

They tried to do what they always have done when poor people,
indigenous people try to stand up for basic Human Rights - they tried
to kill everybody.

The purely military aspect of the revolution lasted 12 days. The
Zapatistas and local people say hundreds were killed. The Mexican
Government claims dozens were killed and most of those were killed by
the Zapatistas.

And then the revolution was on television and the Mexican
Government/Military wasn’t able to kill everyone. And the
Mayan-language-speaking people had the face they wished to show the
world-at-large, the face they wanted on television. He was Rafael
Sebastian Guillen Vicente a.k.a. Sub-Commandante Marcos (named after a
friend and comrade of Guillen who was killed at a military checkpoint
in Chiapas).

The original legend of Marcos was that when the Zapatistas captured
San Cristobel de las Casas on New Year’s night, and began burning town
tax records behind the city’s municipal palace, the tourists
freaked-the-fuck-out. They flocked into the city’s zocolo, the city’s
center, to find out if they were going to be raped and slaughtered.

A twelve-person Commandancia commands the Zapatista Army. There are 11
commandantes and one sub-commandante in the Commandancia. And yet, all
the commandantes were only fluent in their Mayan-languages. Only
Sub-Commandante Marcos, the junior member of the Commandancia, the
Mayanized intellectual/revolutionary Marxist, spoke fluent Spanish,
and also Italian, French and English.

He got on a balcony of the municipal palace of San Cristobel de las
Casas, and told the tourists that everything was going to be arhite.

And he kept on doing that.

The world became enchanted with the romantically-masked, bearded,
corn-cob-pipe smoking, mounted-on-horse revolutionary. His image was
all over television. He got his picture in ‘Rolling Stone,’ GQ

And then the Zapatista Revolution became about amendments to the
Mexican Constitution, marches from Chiapas to Mexico City, about
Zapatistas verses government/military controlled para-military death
squads and massacres. And then it became about politicians accusing
the Zapatistas of trying to destroy Mexicans’ rights of equal
protection before the law and trying to give indigenous people special
privileges. Then politicians spoke of all the foreigners -
particularly young Italian socialists, that were in the Zapatista
Pueblos. The politicians said that foreigners were in charge of this
purported Mexican Revolution. Then Marcos traveled all-over Mexico on
a motorcycle with a chicken named Penguina to mock the presidential
elections of the popular socialist Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador against
the hated plutocrat Felipe Calderon, in 2006.

Calderon won by a very small margin. Marcos/Guillen became like the
Ralph Nader of Mexico.

Things got much worse during the six-year term of Calderon. At least
60,000 Mexicans died in the escalated war on drugs. Oligarch/corporate
control of Mexico tightened and expanded. And then again in 2012,
Obrador lost by an even smaller margin, had the election stolen by the
even more hated President Enrique Pena Nieto, who has re-estabished
the despotic power and business-as-usual of the Partido Revolucionario
Institutional (PRI).

Many Mexicans came to believe Marcos sold out, was paid by the
powers-to-be to help steal the election from Obrador, to preserve the
Mexican Government’s despotic power, and business-as-usual.

The Zapatistas responded with long periods of near-silence.

And Mexican popular culture went on with El Chapo, the corporate-media
coverage of the never-ending carnage, the end of the Saturday night
television show ‘Sabado Gigante.’

And the disappearance and murder of the 43 leftist-university students
in the state of Guerro,  two years ago.

The deep resentment, outrage that Mexicans feel about their country’s
dirty war has crystalized around these disappearances these murders,
by a municipal government that was controlled by a crime cartel, that
killed the leftist students to preserve the Mexican business-as-usual.

The ancestors of the Lacondon Mayan, before they made the jungles of
Chiapas their home, lived in the Yucatan Peninsula. They fought the
Spanish in the Yucatan until the the Spanish completed their conquest.
They went into the jungles and were able to keep enough jungle around
them to keep the rest of the world away. And yet, when archaeologist
built airplane landing strips, in the jungle, in the mid 1950’s, the
rest of the world, particularly lunatic Christian Evangelical
missionaries rushed in.

There no longer is enough jungle, or mountains to keep the
Mayan-language-speaking world separated from the world-at-large.

But there is the remnants of the Zapatista Revolution.

There are six villages that call themselves Zapatista Pueblos. The
cease fire between the Zapatista Army and the Mexican Army still
holds. Oventic is the pueblo where tourists from San Cristobel de las
Casas can go on very controlled tours. At the entrance of Oventic is a
sign that reads, “You are in Zapatista territory in rebellion: here
the people rule and the government must obey.”

The tours are guided by masked people who refuse to have their picture
taken, and usually refuse to answer any questions. Any attempt to
speak to people outside the control of the tour guide will result in
the tour being abruptly ended.

It’s like the Zapatistas want the world to know they still exist. And
yet, they don’t want the world to know much else about them.

The Zapatista Pueblos take no money from the Mexican government. And
yet, they do receive assistance from European Socialistic relief
agencies. The pueblos seem to be in no worse shape than those around
them. But they don’t seem to be in any better shape. Young people,
when they are able, often leave the pueblo’s for the big cities, for
the world-at-large.

In February criminal charges of mutiny, terrorism, rebellion, and
charges related to possession and use of fire-arms and explosives
against Marcos/Guillen and other Zapatistas were dropped, fueling the
speculation that Marcos and the Zapatistas had sold out.

In May 2014, Sub-Commandante Marcos made his communication, wrote a
letter from the Mayan-language speaking world. He said Marcos was a
“constructed” person, “a hologram”, “a colorful ruse” created by the
Clandestine Revolutionary Indigenous Committee of the Zapatista Army.
He said Marcos was created because the people of the outside world can
only see people as small as they are. Marcos was created so that the
outside world could see Marcos and through Marcos they could see the
indigenous Mayan-language-speaking peoples.

He then said that Marcos has been determined to be a “distraction”
that needed to be “destroyed”. Marcos said he is being replaced by
Sub-Commandante Insurgente Galeano, the name of a Zapatista educator
who was murdered by para-military death squads, in an attack on the
Zapatista Pueblo of Realidad, in May 2014.

The letter was signed by Sub-Commandante Insurgente Galeano.

And Marcos or Galeano has not been heard from since.

When the Zapatistas burst from the jungles of Chiapas, Popocatepetl,
the 5,452 meter volcano that overlooks Mexico City, began to smoke and

Between 1994 and 2001 Popo had significant volcanic bursts causing the
evacuation of 16 villages and warnings for the 30 million in the
volcano’s zone of immediate destruction. In 2013 volcanic eruptions
threw ash three kilometers into the sky and made six US airlines
cancel their flights into and from Mexico City and Toluca. The last
time the volcano totally blew was a thousand years ago. Seismologists
say there’s a ten percent chance that the volcano can totally blow in
the near future.

Which is about the same chance that Mexico will totally blow in a
political/social/economic/revolutionary volcano in the near future.

The Zapatista Revolution may have gone dormant. But outrage still
rises from the disappearance and murder of the 43 students. The
Mexican polical/social/economic volcano still smokes, still burns,
still rumbles - and could explode.

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Friday, March 25, 2016 - post date

Pilgrimage to The Mayan God Maximon - (Ri Laj Mam) - in Santiago on
Lake Atitlan,

He is a Trickster-God, just as the Mayan People have been tricksters,
pretending to be Roman Catholics while still worshiping what they
always worshiped.

He loves women, so much, and women love him. He must be handicapped,
or else he’ll be taking everybodys’ woman. His likenesses have their
arms and legs, purposefully, amputated.

He is a Gangster God master of the Gangster World of the Mayan
Highlands. The Mayans have never stopped resisting, any way they can.
Their uprisings continued into the 20th Century. The Mayans started
the first unions of agricultural workers. The masters of the
Guatemalan gangster world, the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church,
United Fruit, the oligarchs, lunatic evangelicals who have taken the
power as the Roman Catholic Church’s power has waned, and always a
U.S. armed and trained army always have responded to the Mayans
standing up for their basic Human Rights the same way.

They killed everyone.

From 1960 - 1996 the Guatemala Gangster World was killing everybody.
In 1976 an earthquake killed 22,000, left a million people homeless.
Most all of the international relief money was stolen by the
Guatemalan Gangster World.

And then the genocide resumed in earnest. Four hundred villages were
massacred. At least 200,000 people were murdered, at least 1,500,000
people were displaced, and are mostly still displaced.

And yet, after the peace accords were signed in 1996, the Mayans have
become very ‘politically’ involved, very mobilized in the Guatemalan
gangster world. Their Resistance has not ended in the 21st Century.

The Mayan people pray to Ri Laj Mam in Mayan languages and they ask
him for things they can’t ask of Jesus. They ask him for revenge and
power over their enemies. They ask him for power over the opposite
sex. They ask him for bling and success in their ‘business engagement’
of the world. They ask for nimbleness, agility in their physical
engagement of the world. They ask for good crops. They ask for good
health. They ask for motorcycles, and cars, and a winning lottery
ticket. They ask for gangster power.

I went to Lake Atitlan, with new friends that I met at the ‘Good Place
to Stay Hostel’, in Antigua. Nick, Joe, and Tabitha. We all stayed at
‘The Lost Iguana’ in Santa Cruz. And as soon as I arrived at Lake
Atitlan, I began hearing about the master of this catyclismic place.

About 180,000 years-ago a large piece of the earth’s crust was blown
to kingdom-come, by a massive volcanic caldera eruption, leaving a 50
square-mile lake with an average depth of 720 feet. Even before the
conquest there was perpetual war for possession of this beautiful
paradisaical place. This beautiful, paradisaical place has always had
an equal measure of hell. During the civil war over 2,000 people were
murdered in Santiago, the largest city on Lake Atitlan, a very
traditional Mayan place, the place that Ri Laj Man lives.

And yet, this is a beautiful, magical place where many foreigners
come, and many never leave (some because they too are murdered by the
U.S. backed military).

We all decided to make a pilgrimage across the lake to the place Ri
Laj Man lives.

On the Friday before Semana Santa we hired a boat and did the 26 mile
crossing of the lake. When we arrived in Santiago, to find Ri Laj Man,
we hired a put-put taxi, and a guide. We were taken about two miles
out of town, to a modest home, where he had lived the previous year.
Now, with the coming of Semana Santa, he was being prepared for the
move to a new home.

Every Semana Santa he is moved to a new place in parallel pagentry to
Roman Catholicism’s. When we arrived, we walked on the palm fronds
that his procession to his next home would soon walk on, and entered
his crowded sanctuary redolent with the smoke of tobacco, candles, and
incense, and the fumes of Quetzaleca grain alcohol.

I had wanted to make an offering to the God, of some arhite Lake
Atitlan ganga. I had rolled a respectful joint, and before the
crossing of the lake, I had smoked some - just to be sure it was
arhite. And yet, when we arrived at the God’s sanctuary, I realized it
wasn’t arhite.

He is the Mayan God of tobacco. He wants offerings of tobacco, or rum.
And yet, if you don’t have rum, he’s totally arhite with Quetzaleca
grain alcohol.

Nick bought six pint bottles of Quetzaleca for about $8.70. He gave me
one to give to the God. I opened the bottle and took a long pull, just
to make sure it was arhite - it was arhite. And then I sat beside,
shared a chair, with one of the two priests that had been attending
the God the previous year., who sat beside the likeness of Ri Laj Mon.

To be a priest, to be an attendant of the God, to truly share in his
mystery you must stay continually drunk for an entire year.

I introduced myself with my very latino name - Me llamo Samuel Victor.

The priest introduced himself as Maximon, Ri Laj Mon.

I told him - mi gusto su trabajo (I like your work).

Maximon, Ri Laj Mon laughed, and said he liked my work. He said he
knew I was a gringo and yet, in many ways, I seemed to be, it felt
like I was Mayan.

I thanked him and gave him the partially drunk bottle of Quetzaleca.
He gave the bottle to the other priest. He covered the mouth of the
likeness of Ri Laj Mon with a cloth, and then poured the bottle into
the cloth and the mouth hole of the likeness.

Maximon/Ri Laj Mon, the priest I sat besides, said the God was looking, considering my offering in a favorable way. He asked me what I wanted from the God.

I asked him about being able to request things from Maximon/Ri Laj Mon
that you couldn’t ask of Jesus.

Maximon/Ri Laj Mon, the priest I sat beside laughed again and said
there is no limit to the things you could ask. He said to take my time
in framing my request. He said I was welcome in this sanctuary, and I
could hang out as long as I wanted.

I got up so that Tabitha, Joe, and Nick could have their time with the
God. And yet, I have no memory of witnessing Tabitha, Joe, and Nick’s
time with Maximon/Ri Laj Mon. It seemed like my conversation with the
God continued as I stood in the smoke-filled, fume-filled sanctuary.
We conversed about what a person could ask of Maximon/Ri Laj Mon. And
somewhere in there I made my request.

Tabitha, Joe and Nick had their time with the God when I again
became aware of my surroundings. We then took the group picture that
accompanies this story.

When we left the sanctuary we again walked on the palm fronds that the
procession to the next sanctuary would walk on. Nick still had a
couple of pint bottles of Quetzaleca. He offered me one, I opened it
and took a long pull - that went straight to my head.

When the put-put drove about 100 yards from the sanctuary, I saw this
beautiful black dog laying beside the road. The dog had no apparent
injury, and yet, when the put-put passed him, I realized the
beautiful, black dog was dead.

I can’t say why - but I knew my request to the God had been accepted.

And what that request is - well - that’s between Maximon/Ri Laj Mon,
the priest I sat beside y yo.

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Thursday, March 17, 2016 - post date

(for more narratives of the voyage of the bloody, snake chariot, see

It is a magical reality, post-apocalyptic kind of place.

Many of the city´s splendid cathedrals and palaces are ruins
containing nothing but the collapsed roof, the vivid, tropical colors
of the bougainvilla and the jackaranda tree.

From the time the city began it was assailed by volcanic eruptions,
earthquakes, hurricanes, the relentless antipathy of the place.

And in the end that transplanted and mutated European world was broken
by the futility of resistence -

and became the beautiful ruins of this city -

which has always been in some state of ruin

and the indigenous fecundly abides.

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Friday, March 4, 2016 - post date

Costa Rica

I'm asked - what is my favorite place in the world. I answer- it is
places and times when a tyrant, a tyranny dies or is overthrown. It is
places and times when prohibitions are overturned, repealed.
I found this place and time in the totally unlikely place of the
Envision Festival in Uvita, Costa Rica, in February.
I say unlikely place because Envision is locked in the box of the
'Burning Man Paradox'.
Burning Man is, no doubt, an amazing party. It is the mode in which many new festivals are modeled. And yet, the premise of these festivals is that they're more than amazing parties. There's always a lot of yoga, spiritual/shamanic trappings, a lot of talking on new age, totally lunatic themes, a lot of art. The premise of these festivals is that they're transformative experiences - agencies of the metamorphose to the higher spiritual being.
The paradox is, I don't know if the experience of a wonderful party
has anything necessarily to do with ones spiritual development, your
metamorphose to a higher spiritual being. If you're doing it right, I
would argue, that you're having totally, unabashed carnality that
would tend to make spiritual assumptions - irrelevant. I guess my
question is: why can't you just have a great, wonderful, un-self
conscious, party, and just be in the moment with it.
And yet, the bringing of the Burning Man mode of partying to Costa
Rica has had some really revolutionary repercussions among the Ticos.
In comparison with the other countries of Central America, Costa Rica is an extraordinarily democratic, egalitarian place. And yet, the
Roman Catholic Church has had its unchallenged tyranny here, since the Inquisition. Even at the start of the 21st Century Costa Rica is a very conservative place. Gays, people of the counter-culture are called los gente succio - the dirty people.
The Envision Festival was brought here seven years ago. It has taken on a Costa Rican life of its own. It grows, becomes more Latin, more Jamaican. It becomes the agency of the dirty peoples, political, social and economic revolution. It is all about Dirty Peoples' Pride and Liberation!!!!
In the time that Envision has come here, different sexualities have
become more accepted, as have unconventional lifestyles in general. Great strides have been made in the techniques and understandings regarding the cultivation of cannabis. There is high quality cannabis, here. Legislation is imminent that will legalize medical cannabis. There is a large and growing population that lives for Envision.
And that's why Envision has become one of my favorite times and places in the world.
I had a great party. And yet, Envision has been a very strange
experience for me, too.
I arrived at Envision on Thursday, February 25 and immediately the
mis-identification began.
People who I did not, in any way, know would
come up to me and begin talking, enthusiastically, about a rap
performance, a dance performance, a shamanic thing that I did, which was described as being life-changing for these people who I did not have the beginnings, the traces of a memory of. As I also had absolutely no memory of the event they were describing. And yet, even when we were close-up, face-to-face they maintained with absolute certainty that I was this person, who I knew I was not, that I was the performer, the creator of an event, that was not mine.
At first I was amused.
Then I began wondering, what does this thing of consistent,
enthusiastic, mis-identification mean?
I saw my doppel-ganger, that night.
He was not, nearly, as good looking, and yet, I saw the similarity.
He was about my age, had a beard, we have similar builds.
He always seemed to be on, on stage, seeking an opportunity to do his rapping, to do his dancing, to do his shamanic thing.
Which is totally not what I am about.
The main similarity we have, I guess, is that it could be said, we had
a look of some kind of Santa Claus spiritual authority.
And yet, I maintain that you should find this thing of spiritual
authority with-in yourSelf. And it shouldn't be projected on someone, something outside yourSelf.
The irony was that I was constantly being given credit for my
doppel-ganger's achievements. I felt like a fraud. And yet, these
beautiful women were walking up to me and embracing me. When these things happened to me, when these things were being said of me, I would just say, "arheit".
And I also felt that if I did bad things, my doppel-ganger would
probably take the rap....
I had eye-contact with my doppel-ganger. And yet, I didn't feel he
wanted to be approached by me, I didn't feel like he was aware that he was being mistaken for me.
Perhaps there are issues being worked out by the both of us in this
mis-identification which has persisted, for me, for a week after the
Envision Festival.
And yet, the most wonderful thing was being in Costa Rica, with
Elephant Revival.
I will always remember the response of the Ticos when they entered the radiance of Bonnesa May Paine.

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Tuesday, February 23, 2016 - post date

When my mind tries to wrap around the idea of El Salvador there are
these hideous image that I can't stop from coming into my mind's eye.

El Salvador is a place where the yawning abyss, the great divide
between the dirty, stinking rich and everybody else started going
run-away, going amok more than 100 years-ago.

By the early 20th Century this country (which is named after
cheese-us) was the classic banana/coffee/sugar republic. Coffee
accounted for over 90% of the export earnings and enriched 14 families
(the oligarchy). When everyone else tried to organize, tried to stand
up for basic Human Rights, the oligarchy killed everyone with the
assistance of United States provided weapons, U.S. trained death
squads, U.S. anti-communist rhetoric. For the business of the United
States is business it's own self. And U.S. corporations such as United
Fruit profited immensely from this business-as-usual.

Then the crash of 1929 happens. The rural poor become destitute. They
have a peaceful demonstration. The U.S. armed, the U.S. backed
El Salvador army kills everyone. At least 30,000 unarmed campesinos
are killed in February 1932 - The Matanza - The Massacre.

The campesinos begin an armed rebellion. But the leadership of the
uprising are captured and killed on the eve of the struggle. It never
becomes organized. It never becomes effective. Thousands more are
killed. The rebellion is put down in ten days.

In 1979 there is a successful revolution against the Somoza family in
nearby Nicaraugua. There is reason to hope that something similar can
happen in El Salvador. The campesinos start occupying the estates of
the dirty, stinking rich. U.S. armed, U.S. trained death squads kill
everyone again. People were killed for looking like they were
indigenous. People were killed if they were young and looked like they
had leftist inclinations. People were killed if they were involved in
any union activity. People were killed if they were university
students, academics, clergy. People were killed just so the military
could hear the sound of their U.S made guns.

Monsignor Romero, Archbishop of El Salvador, who began to speak for
the speechless, was killed by a U.S. armed, U.S. supported death squad
while saying mass in San Salvador's main cathedral on March 21, 1980.

On December 2, 1980, Jean Donavan, Dorothy Kazel, Maura Clarke, and
Ita Ford, four young Catholic Church workers who were providing food,
shelter, transportation to medical care for the families of death
squad victims and burying their bodies, were beaten, raped, and
murdered by the Salvadorean Army.

President Jimmy Carter suspended assistance to the Salvadorean Army.
It resumed within six weeks when Ronald Reagan became president It was
one of the first things he did when he became president.

During the height of the civil war $1.5 million of U.S. aid is
provided to the Salvadorean Army - every day. The war continued until
1992 .The Salvadorean Army's, U.S. trained Atlacatl Battalion killed
as many as 1,000 people, most all of the population of the village of
Mozote. At least half of the murdered were children. When an officer
of the Atlacatl Battalion was later asked about why the children were
murdered, he said, they decided not to wait until the children grew up
to be insurgents so they just decided to get it the fuck over with.

Both the U.S. and El Salvador governments denied the massacre had
taken place, until the mass grave was found.

The civil war is said to have ended in 1992. At least 75,000 were
killed. And yet the horror continues.

During the civil war many Salvadoreans from both sides fled to the
United States. Many ended up in Los Angeles. They became embroiled in
that endemic gang violence which pitted the Salvadoreans against the
Mexican and the Chinese gangs.

And then many of these Salvadoreans are deported back to El Salvador.
In the 1990's commercial jets full of Salvadorean gang members begin
landing in San Salvador.

El Salvador is now considered to be the bloodiest, most violent, most
dangerous place in the Western Hemisphere. The U.S. State Department
is now advising U.S. companies, U.S. citizens to stay clear of El
Salvador, to forget about business-as-usual. They site incidents in
July in which known gang members used threats and violence, burned two
buses, killed eight bus drivers to shut down San Salvador's entire
transportation system

It was done to display their power.

And yet a more typical example of Salvadorean gang violence is the
case of Marcela, a 15 year-old girl who was shot in the middle of a
busy intersection at close range. Her offense was that she lived in a
gang controlled section of San Salvador and was crossing into a
section of the city controlled by another gang, to sell tortillas.

Most of the gang violence is against the poor. And yet, there is also
evidence that the gangs work with corrupt government officials in the
weapons and narcotic trades.

When I started this voyage of the bloody, snake chariot, (see I had no idea, no plan about going to El
Salvador. And yet, these voyages always take on a life of their own.
And when I embarked, in earnest, on the road to Costa Rica, the road
went from Guatamala City to San Salvador.

I arrived in San Salvador with these images in my mind's eye - which
perhaps are now in your mind's eye. And yet, in San Salvador, in El
Salvador it was all totally cool, nothing but warm, authentic human

There's a beautiful sweetness, a beautiful sadness in a Salvadorean's smile.

Even though The Poet Ruben Dario is Nicaragua-born, his genius
pervades the Salvadorean world also. Among the things he said is, "The
science of life is most about the art of loving". Perhaps there's
something of that in a Salvadorean's smile.

I am now arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica. And this weekend I'll be at
the Envision Festival in Uvita, on Costa Rica's Pacific Coast with
some of my favoritest, favoritest, favoritest people in the whole wide
world - the wonderful peoples of Elephant Revival.

And before I end this - I'd just like to interject this concept...

Now that the U.S., now that the whole friggin' world has become a
banana republic, (According to Oxfam (the Oxford Foundation) the
richest one percent control more of the world's wealth than the 99%
rest of us. The 80 richest people in the world, control more capital
than the poorest 50% of the world's population.) this is the time to
consider El Salvador.

And vote - do everything in your power to bring about The Bern.

And be grateful that your struggle/our struggle is not like the
struggle of El Salvador.