Scenes From the Mexican Struggle in Phoenix: On my first evening I go buy some essentials from a grim Food City supermarket, whose employees and clientele are 90% Latino, and whose offerings are pretty East Los. Two young black women in line in front of me do a lot of sighing and laughing about the Mexicans in front of me, who are taking a long time paying, perhaps because of food stamps or some kind of check. "These people take forever!" they say loudly, as they hand their goods to the Latino checker.

Next morning I go down to the front desk of my shitty Comfort Inn to ask for a plunger, on account of the toilet in my room doesn't flush (could it be related to the shower-faucet that doesn't turn off, or maybe even the scum-crusted pool that doesn't clean itself, so therefore never gets cleaned? Who knows!). Snaggle-toothed white girl there looks overwhelmed, tries uncertainly to ask a confident-looking Mexican woman/colleague if she can help me, and then turns back to me and say, "I'm sorry, I don't speak any Spanish." After five uncomfortable minutes, a more self-assured middle-aged black guy takes me on a tour of the various cleaning-supply rooms, jiggling his keys into various doorknobs, and says, "Yeah, I told the maintenance people that I need the keys too when they're not here, but they don't speak any English!" He grins. "I shoulda paid more attention in Spanish class back in high school!"

A few hours later I buy the Arizona Republic and some water at a liquor store. Suspicious-looking tattoed middle-aged clerk guy barks out "Looks like they're screwing Arizona again!" What do you mean, I say. He doesn't explain; I eventually figure out he's referring to the lead story in the paper, which has something to do with a future Super Bowl maybe not being played here. "It's not like we're the 48th state in the union or something!" He's really pissed now. "I'm sure Puerto Rico'll get it before us! We're just Arizona after all! Hell, why now Guam!!!!" I pretend to laugh sympathetically and get the hell out of there before he realizes that I'm from California.

For lunch a few hours later, I go to a nearby Subway, where in front of me in the line is a young Mexican family (a couple, and three or four screaming children running all around); and in back of them, an absolutely fuming white guy, college aged. The Spanish-speaking Mexican father, who looks to be in his 20s, is giving a hard time to the Spanglish-speaking employee, who doesn't understand each minute detail of a complicated six-sandwich order in a language he doesn't seem to command. Fuming white boy is joined by his late-arriving friend, to whom he spits out, "We shoulda gone to that other Subway! I've been here 15 minutes already!" He (and I) are being served by a hapless-looking white girl, who is becoming increasingly anxious over the whole thing. Finally, she decides to finish our sandwiches, and check us out before the Mexican family, who is still cheerfully giving the Spanglish dude a hard time. Weird.

Meanwhile I spend my time here mostly talking to people who are active in the Arizona GOP. You'll never guess what their number-one issue is right now! (It's actually a fascinating story I don't have time/inclination to go into right now, and intimately connected with the political fortunes of John McCain.) Among the many complaints I hear are notions that these people aren't even learning English in their family's sixth U.S. generation, that they're violating our sovereignty, comprising an "invasion," taking away good construction jobs, transforming nice middle class neighborhoods into overcrowded drug emporiums, and so on. It is suggested that a notorious case in southern Arizona, involving vigilantes who caught some border-crossers and branded them like cattle, had the salutary effect of reducing crime. McCain, they expected this kind of turncoat/Teddy Kennedy action from, but not the usually reliable John Kyl. (Finding out the mechanics of exactly how Kyl became a point man for the comprehensive bill just months after winning re-election with a tough-on-immigration platform would be a good assignment for a roving political reporter with latitude to investigate good stories.)

Which leads us to today. I drive down to a K liquor store to stock up on bottled water (for the coming Apocalypse), and there are three clerks behind the counter -- hot young black gal (with lots of male black suitors outside looking for excuses to come in), middle-aged Latina woman, and an obese & cackling white young-grandma type waddling around. Latino couple in front of me buy their Bud suitcase, get it wrapped in a white plastic bag, and walk out. No fuss at all. Waddly white gal is beside herself. "Lord only knows why you'd need a bag when you have a case of beer with a handle!" she says, outraged. "I guess it's a Mexican thing!" Then she seems to retract a bit. "Juanita, I'm done for the day," she says. "I've already done the Mexican thing."

Funny, how you almost never hear such talk in El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora la Reina de los Angeles del Rio de Porciuncula.

06/02/2007 02:19 PM  |  Comment (4)

Help! We Have a Bunch of Adorable Kitties All of a Sudden! So we come home after a week in DC, and what do we find? This family, living in our back yard and under our house:

From left to right, that's Hana, Shira, Ali and Basart. The kitties are absolutely adorable, of course, scampering around, chasing lizards and squirrels, sleeping all on top of each other in the shade of the grapevine. The mom is more of a straggly teenage crackwhore, a bit bug-ridden and too skinny (though noble enough to never eat until her kids have had their full).

It's important to note here that these aren't our cats, and that we are not people who have pets. However, you don't want to see the cute lil'uns starve, so we give them some food and water in the mornings while we figure out what to do. Here's where you come in: What do we do???

It's clear we need to trap Hana in a cage & take her down to a clinic to get fixed. I'll do that when I get back from Arizona. The kitties are too young to reproduce just yet (though they're much more trappable than mom). They are awfully cute, and they do a good job of patrolling our vermin infested back yard (to the point where Emmanuelle found a half-eaten rat just yesterday). But on the other hand, we're not responsible people, we didn't ask for pets, and Emmanuelle in particularly will be traumatized, perhaps irreparably, if she walks out to her garden to find a half-eaten squirrel.

So what do we do? The Internet says we should get this fancy outdoor feeder thing, not unlike a bird-feeder except designed specifically for yard-cats. If we send them to the pound they'll all be slaughtered. Do we give them some outdoor kitty litter box? Do we just starve them, and hope they find some more generous host? (Even though the neighbors in the apartment complex helpfully leave food out for them on our driveway.) Emmanuelle's desperate for an answer.

Meanwhile, look how cute!

06/02/2007 02:19 PM  |  Comment (12)

McCain, on Watergate, in December 1973:

It has certainly made me sad that this situation should have arisen. ... However, I feel that, in the context of history, Watergate will be a very minor item as compared with the other achievements of this Administration, particularly in the area of foreign affairs. I do hope that this country will get over Watergate and get going again on the very serious problems that we're facing today.

05/30/2007 12:22 PM  |  Comment (3)

Hi! What are you doing down here?