"There is no hunting like the hunting of a man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter"
- Ernest Hemingway
In one of Ernest Hemingway's nonfictional works, The Green Hills of Africa, he romances his passion for big-game hunting; glorifying virility, bravery, and the virtue of a primal challenge to life. Any fan of Hemingway's life and works knows bravado in terms relative to the author. So much so that even if an elephant could look down the business end of his rifle the elephant would gladly offer Hemingway his broad side and stand still. There was that sense of purpose to the hunt and no question of the righteousness of the kill. To some degree it could be said that in Africa there is big-game meant to be hunted. The resulting trophy a testament to the virtues waxed poetic by Hemingway. Even if you don't agree with the hunting of animals for sport, you can make sense of it through the words of the author.
One of my wise old grandmother's most used and appropriate saying was: "We make plans and God laughs." During my first six days in Mexico her words have been ringing loud enough in my ears to make them bleed. Before I get into what's gone wrong so far, I have to stop and say that this place is still the most beautiful location on earth. Looking out over the bay of Banderas from my balcony in the early evening I just can't possibly imagine a more stunning vista. There are few places in the world where you can look out over a vast expanse of ocean, both to the right and to the left, and see not only the peaceful azure blue of the pacific stretching for miles, but also lush, primitive, mist cloaked mountains dipping into the sea. There is a primordial sense about what you see from here. I'm sure that the view I'm looking at now was exactly the same a million years ago. When I die I want my ashes spread over this bay.
The family of Amanda Savell files suit against Chinese drug company for her murder.
Before I get into this I want to say two things. First, I agonized for days over whether or not I should even write this because what I'm about to say is the truth, and as we all know, the truth hurts, and the last thing I want to do is bring any more pain to Amanda Savell's family. Secondly, I am the father of two grown daughters. It's very safe to say that, as their father, I would have no compunction whatsoever to spending the rest of my life on death row for gruesomely and protractedly ending the life of a jacked up scumbag who murdered either one of them. Burying a child, especially burying a child who was heinously murdered by a stark, raving, coward has got to rank at the very top of life's most incontestable woes.Monday morning came like all Monday's do; too soon, too early and with too much to do. I got up at my usual time; fixed Max his breakfast, hung out with him for a little while and then we got dressed and headed out the door for school. We have this morning routine down to a minute-by-minute science; like NASA does with a Shuttle launch. We got in the truck, I stuck the key in the ignition and when I twisted it, nothing happened. I twisted it back and forth a few times and I got nothing out of the old girl but a click. Damn....
We pushed the truck out of the driveway and alongside the curb across the street. Thank God I work out because, all jacked up on 33s, a 4x4 doesn't roll too easily - especially up hill. With the truck secured by the side of the road, I ran back in the house to get the keys to my car. We backed out of the garage and roared down the street in an effort to be the less late, but we were late all the same.
Subscribe to RxMuscle on Youtube
