News from The El Prado Barbershop of Love

By: Bill Whaley
1 February, 2020

 

“…Let’s kill all the lawyers.” (Shakespeare)

Yesterday, the Chicano Chamber of Commerce met at Raoul’s Barber Shop of Love in El Prado to discuss the endorsement of local candidates, the state of the community, and the negligence of the U.S. Senate, which rejected 51 to 49, a motion to call witnesses and examine documents in the Donald J. Trump impeachment process.

In the latter case, Attorney Allen Dershowitz argued in defense of Trump by re-interpreting the U.S. Constitution in favor of the Executive Branch, saying anything the President does in the “public interest,” for instance, seeking help from Foreign actors in his election, justifies the act. (As Nixon said when the President does it, it’s not wrong.)

The U.S. Senate has conducted a Kangaroo Court or sham show trial, while acting as part of the Trump campaign team. Historic case law and specific clauses relating to Impeachment (Abuse of Power and Obstructing Congress) were ignored and common sense set aside. Trump’s bid to join his fellow travelers (Dictators) in Korea, Russia, Turkey, and Saudi Arabia has now been endorsed by the U.S. Senate and will be totally invested on Wednesday of this week as a conspiracy of dunces led by lawyers protects Trump from other lawyers.

(The new Trumpism ideology, which 90% of republicans applaud, includes policies that keep kids in cages; arms serial killers sans background checks; produces extreme weather; curries favor with evangelical idolatry and Catholic pedophilia in the interest of “right-to-lifers,” who support the “death penalty”; lobbies against medical assistance to all who cannot pay the price; continues to expand the income-wealth gap between the one percent and the 99 percent, and reduces the availability of food stamps (SNAP) while endorsing the benefits of white supremacy.

“Angloism,” said Juma. “Money counts. See the gentrification on Montoya and Burch, La Loma and Geronimo Lane.

“See the Monkey God,” said Arsenio.

“That’s why I’m a yellow-dog democrat, Geno,” said Juma.

Arsenio, the republican, laughed. “Hey, I didn’t vote for Trump,”

Geno asked, “What are we going to do about the Town?”

“You got Gus (former 19-year manager) fired and look where we are today,” said Juma.

“Bellis and Barrone aren’t even from here,” said Arsenio, glaring at Gene.

“Soon,” said Juma, “None of us will be from here.”

“Okay, back to business,” said Whaley, the Chonky (Chicano-Honky), “I can’t vote but I can record the vote. Who are we endorsing for commissioner to replace Blankenhorn?”

“I nominate Willie Cordova,” said Arsenio. Geno seconded and Young Willie, TSV Parking Lot mayordomo, grinned. (As Adult Detention Center Director, Willie had a clean record: no deaths and no escapes. So, the Commissioners fired him.)

“How about Gabe’s replacement in Ranchos and Llano?” asked Arsenio.

“Darlene Vigil,” said Geno.

“Sure, we know why,” said Juma. Another unanimous endorsement for the “incredible shrinking woman.”

“And for County Clerk?” (As if I needed to ask.)

“Dolores Lujan,” said Geno.

Juma winked.

“Si,” said Arsenio. “She smiled at Gene.”

“She’s experienced, committed, and hard-working,” said Whaley.
Just then Jerome Lucero, Coop activist, walked in the door.

“How’s Luis treating you, Jerome,” asked Juma.

“Trump’s got nothing on Luis Reyes,” said Jerome

“Yeah,” said Whaley. “The trustees rubber stamp everything Luis does the way the Senate covers-up for Trump.”

“It’s all a cover up and lies,” said Jerome.

“Sounds like some of the priests in the Catholic Church,” said Arsenio, a former seminarian.

“Good thing, Jerome, you eat breakfast at the Hospital so they can monitor your blood pressure,” said the Chonky.

On the drive home, the Gringo remembered a conversation with John Nichols, Milagro author, outside Smith’s. “I never understood New York politics until I came to Taos,” said John. The Gringo thought of how he’d seen political dynamics at work in Taos that compared favorably with the D.C. melodrama. Then he started humming a song he learned from his college roommate: “Iowa, Iowa, that’s where the tall corn grows.” But will we have real or sham elections,” he asked himself. “Quien sabe?”

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