Don Chucho

While we were scouting in Santa Marta, we happened upon a jovial fellow at a restaurant named Don Chucho's.  Little did we know at that time that Don Chucho was the proprietor of said establishment, and that said establishment was in fact considered by the weathered travelers who pen the Lonely Planet guidebooks to be the best restaurant in the town.  Don Chucho proved that to us with a feast of the freshest local catch.  It quickly became apparent that we were kindred souls, as he graciously offered us a free bottle of tequila as digestif.

Sadly as we moved on to the next venue, our friend the bottle was "checked" and then, apparently, stolen from the coatcheck at our new friend Diego's nightclub, Ibiza.  I could never tag blame on Diego as he's a kind and honest man.

Sometimes, late in the night, when I brawl with my insomnia, I wonder what happened to that bottle.  If you've seen it, feel free to email me.

Bad News For People Who Like Bad News

Naysayers beware!

There is a new breed of counter-conspirators who appear to be contesting the semi-popular, longstanding conspiracy theory that we are, shall I say, fucked when December 2012 rolls around.  It turns out that the switch from the Mayan way of calendaring to the Gregorian way (or something whatever) yields not an apocalypse of living, but rather an apocalypse of clarity. The calculations might be all wrong!  Darn!


So we might all not die at the end of 2012.  Furthermore, there might not even be the tidal shift in paradigmatic consciousness (whatever that actually means) that Daniel Pinchbeck pretentiously softballed to tripped out advocates in "2012: The Return of Quetzalcoatl".  I want my money back from the galley I received years ago!

All this firmly attached to the hip, i should be sleeping well knowing that society in some form will stretch past the year after next.  But alas I type at 534AM EST....