The Wall

The other day, Donald Trump met with Mexican President Jorge Pena Nieto.  When I really wanted to know what they talked about.  I mean, I'm not a violent person, but if I were in Senor Pena Nieto's zapatos, I'm not sure I could be as civil as he was to someone who so publicly and viciously insulted his country and people.

El Donaldo claims they talked about The Wall:  You know, the one that the erstwhile casino mogul wants to build along the border between the two countries, and make the country that supplies, directly or indirectly, his restaurant and domestic help (and, probably, a good part of the rest of his workforce) pay for it.  After all, those folks south of the border have gotten so rich from all the money the fellow who made his taco bowl sent home that they can easily afford to foot the bill for keeping the country where the man makes his money safe.  Right?

Caballero Jorge very politely, but in a very manly sort of way, denied that his country is going to pay for any such structure.  Donald, trying to out-do him in the machismo department, reiterated his promise that not only will the wall be built, but that "they are going to pay for the wall, 100%.  They don't know it yet."

OK, Donald, I won't let out the Big Secret.  But please tell me: How thick will that wall be?  And more important:  How high?

I ask because no one really knows just how much is necessary to keep those thundering herds of taco trucks from rumbling across the border.  But even if Your Wall could keep out those hordes of enchilada chefs yearning to make a living, it can't deter another group of intrepid souls:

Lance Or The Donald?

A few weeks ago, in a comment on one of my posts, a reader mentioned "he who must not be named", or something to that effect. 

That commenter was referring to Lance Armstrong.



This morning, I got into my first conversation with someone I've seen around the neighborhood for years.  We were in a Dunkin' Donuts. (shh...Don't tell anyone!)  I was sitting at a two-seat table; the only remaining seat was across from mine. "Mind if I sit here?"

"Why should I?"

So we got to talking about one thing and another, including music.  She thinks hip-hop is just awful.  It isn't my style, I explained, but I understand why some, especially the young have taken to it.  

"Why?  It's so mean and nasty."

"Exactly.  People are scared, anxious, confused--and angry.  And a lot of their anger comes from feeling that they have no control."

"But why would people choose something like that to express it?"

"The same reason why people vote for Donald Trump..."

She stopped me. "You simply must not say that man's name!"





I'm sure she's not the only one who's reacted that way to hearing about The Donald, just as my commentor probably isn't the first person to say that the one who's been stripped of seven Tour de France titles must not be named.

That got me to wondering:  Who's more unmentionable:  Lance or Donald?  Who would score lower in a public opinion poll?