Saturday, November 19, 2011


Leaving the house of an afternoon to walk the dog I saw Fat Albert hovering close to the ground on distant Big Coppitt. Maintenance or a predictor of bad weather? Possible high winds? Likely storms? Who knows. I'm sure the Air Force knows everything I don't know about imminent weather patterns. Luckily the potential Cuban refugees poised to cross from the other side can't know Fat Albert is on the ground else they might come storming across in droves. And if the grounding were a predictor of a storm they would drown in droves in their little chugs in the violent Gulf Stream that separates us. Unhappily it happens, but God knows we have to keep enforcing the embargo to keep vital food and fuel and hope out of the goodless communist island. Better they die trying to be free than we should loosen the strangle hold against the wishes of what Castro calls the Miami Mafia, the tired angry old Cubans who fled the island and won 't let the rest of us forget it.

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