The Cathedral Isn’t Telling

I live in San Antonio, Texas. It’s ok. Everyone has got to live somewhere. So why not here? But occasionally I wonder just what the Hell I am doing here. Today was one of those days.

I always admired the opening line of Mario Vargas Llosa’s brilliant novel, Conversation in the Cathedral (1969). “At what precise moment had Peru fucked itself up?” Let’s not beat around the bush, right? That would appear to be the Big Question. Not just for Peru, mind you. But for all of us everywhere. When did things get so loused up? Of course, in the United States, that’s $2,181,658.90 Question (in 1955, The 64,000 Dollar Question. I used Measuring worth (https://www.measuringworth.com/dollarvaluetoday/result.php?year=1955&amount=64000&transaction_type=WEALTH) and considered that beloved quiz show’s payoff as a prize (wealth)). You can call it the 2.2 million Dollar Question. I don’t know too many people who don’t look around at the current mess (choose one) and don’t wonder. Lord, when did things get so screwed up? Of course, someone out there will complain (probably some PhD) “it’s a process, not a moment” but I don’t really care. Today, driving around the Alamo City, it really hit me.

Why today? I’ve been here over 30 years. How to paraphrase, is this day different from all other days?

You got a minute?

Well, part of it is the Buc-ee’s lawsuit. Huh? Wait?

https://www.foxcarolina.com/2025/06/02/buc-ees-suing-sc-company-over-armed-beaver-merch/

Ok. This is sort of Song of Bernadette territory: for those who believe, no explanation is necessary, for those who do not, well, va fungool. Buc-ee’s is a South Texas icon, a combination mega gasoline/pissoir/junk food/ apparel place that sells some concoction called “beaver nuggets.” Stifle yourself if you are from the Northeast because the beaver here is chaste, if not quite innocent. Oh, yeah, we know to those libtards, beaver means something durty, but we are God-fearing people here in the South, so praise the Lord. If you want the Bucc-ee’s story, here it is. https://buc-ees.com/about/ Read on, because it is worth it, I swear.

Anyway, the home of the Christian Beaver is suing some outfit in South Carolina (well, not Rhode Island) for trademark infringement of Buc-ee’s camo, rifle-toting underwear, or something. Now why in God’s name any sane human being would want to wear this crap is utterly beyond me. But it’s Texas, and yahoo, and MAGA and the South.. So there you go. If you want proof that Amurica is emulating Texas, look no farther. A Beaver will lead you. Swear to God. Follow the Beaver. And the money.

By touch and feel you will know trademark infringement

Yup. Touch and feel.

Forgive me, but I found this, well, disconcerting. Like, seriously? I know America was screwed up, but Buc-ee’s level screwed up? And just wait. Bucc-ee has expansion plans. To Arizona, Arkansas, Wisconsin, Ukraine. Maybe instead of Wawa back home in Pennsylvania, you visit Bucc-ee’s for ammo, beer, and some cool gear. Oh. Dear. God. Domine, ades me nunc.

But wait. As the Popeil’s Pocket Fisherman ad says, there’s more.

This is election season in Texas. Man, you ain’t never seen anything like an election in Texas, believe me.

The worst thing you can be in any Texas election–and I’ve watched more than a few–is a Liberal (pronounced: LiberOwl). You know, “Too Liberal for Texas” is the ultimate put down, like a candidate is some sort of squirelly pedophile who reads books and drinks white wine. And knows George Soros but not His Savior. And who gets outside money from California, New York, and other places where they spend too much time reading and ciphering and not playing football or other manly pasttimes. And hugging trees (cut ’em down) and loving criminal illegal immigrants (instead of DEPORT THEM IMMEDIATELY! as signs on IH 35 urge, which is basically the campaign slogan of some evil slug named Huffines) who inhales and defecates Bitcoin and is always running for something.

This is, however, not a statewide election. This is for The Alcalde of San Antonio–The Mayor. But why is that of any concern.

Ever since I got here, I could never really figure out what the Mayor of San Antonio did. Here’s what I can find

• Emergency declarations
• City-wide ceremonial duties
• Signing documents like city charters

That’s it? Hell. Anyone could do that. Even me. The City Manager runs the city. The Mayor is window dressing. Why would anyone want the job? Search me. I guess if you are ambitious, you get some visibility and name recognition, but that isn’t always a good thing. When I got here, the Mayor (1981-89) was Henry B Cisneros, aka, The Aztec God. He had a taco named after him. He taught a course at Trinity for which he got a lot of money and for which he apparently never prepared. He couldn’t even be bothered to name Trinity when he was on the Today show. He called it “a local college.” The then-President of Trinity hit the roof and told people “We’re getting out of the Henry business,” supposedly. So the Aztec God lost the gig. Hey. He was lucky. Rumors abounded in the medical community that Henry C took a shot to the, uh, area of the family jewels administered by his spouse because was fooling around with a certain Linda Medlar. But Henry did end up Secretary of HUD under Bubba Clinton, who, God knows. never held chick difficulties against anyone. So, Henry, instead of climbing up the greasy pole of politics was defeated by, well, his greasy pole. But he was the first Hispanic Mayor here, which counted for a lot then. These days, no one would really care. Henry C is a back number. We’ve moved on. Progress! We now have an all Hispanic (Ortiz Jones is Filipina) field, I guess–at least the ones who matter, Gina Ortiz Jones and Rolando Pablos. And this, my friends, motivates my disgust. In a state that seems to glorify brainless slander as a campaign tactic, this one takes the pastel.

Ms Ortiz Jones is a former Undersecretary of the Air Force. I have no idea what that means. More importantly, I guess, she is lesbian. Why the Hell this has any bearing on her qualification for a largely symbolic job escapes me, but apparently it does. I have also seen her campaign signs defaced in a most creative way: Ok. Wait for it: “Vagina Ortiz Jones.” Childish right? Adolescent right? San Antonio right? Frankly, I don’t care about her perferences one way or another. But it is a big deal. It is a big deal because her opponent, Rolando Pablos, seems to play it that way. Pablos, a former Texas Secretary of State (God knows what that means) who is getting beaucoup money from all sorts of mouth-breather organizations, is a Republican whose slogan is “Family First.” Now what the Hell does that mean? Deport families first? Hey, these days, you never know. What does the Mayor of San Antonio have to do with families? Other than sign proclamations saying families (meaning?) matter? Big deal. Actually, someone suggested to me that this is Rolando’s way of playing dog-whistle politics. You know. A lesbian can’t have a family? Not like Rolando. Rolando also says he is a real Latino. Hmm. Like uber family-guy Henry Cisneros? Whose Spanish was not as good as mine at one point? And you wonder why I feel sick?

Pablos will win. Lots of money behind him. The mouth-breathers will win. God bless Texas.

Sick.

Look, dammit. This is your country going down the drain. And Texas is leading the way. I’d like to simply say nothing. I’d like to simply say “Hey, that’s what they want.” But I won’t do that.

This crap makes me sick. We have real problems here: widespread poverty, medically uninsured residents, a surfeit of interpersonal violence and a rapidly detriorating quality of life that’s made a once-charming place like Austin unliveable. Really. Why do so many people want to come to Texas? You tell me. Because right now, all I can think about is wanting to leave. When did this place get so screwed up? When did politics here start being about nothing other than horsecrap?

You tell me. I’m all ears. Does any of this matter? I don’t know.