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Best Use of the Internet: Tracking the Weather in Mexico

by Vanderleun on September 22, 2020

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ghostsniper September 22, 2020, 2:37 PM

holy kow!

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Snakepit Kansas September 22, 2020, 2:58 PM

Mercy.

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Casey Klahn September 22, 2020, 4:15 PM

Hee hee. Sexist.

More like this, el hefe.

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Missy September 22, 2020, 4:41 PM

For those of you who don’t get Telemundo on cable, Amazon offers a “Hoochie Mama (Elk) Call.” Who knows what could happen?

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Desert Rat September 22, 2020, 4:48 PM

Nice paint jobs.

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whatever September 22, 2020, 5:15 PM

I she were my weather woman I could never tell you what the weather forecast was.

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Zaphod September 22, 2020, 6:38 PM

Now we know where all the Venezuelan Plastic Surgeons went to escape Year Zero.

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OneGuy September 22, 2020, 7:01 PM

The weather is very humid and will get wetter because of a very warm front.

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Andrew X September 23, 2020, 12:52 PM

It is interesting to note that Mexicans have always taken meteorology very seriously. Just a weird cultural thing or something.

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Jack September 23, 2020, 1:12 PM

I don’t keep up with Mesican’s or any other Latino types but some of them tamale famales are stunning and if I were young and handsome again I’d try that taco. Several times.

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ghostsniper September 23, 2020, 6:07 PM

Are fish taco’s made with tuna?

where dat gwok-a-mol iz?

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Previous post: Epic

Welcome to the New American Digest: 2003-2020

Once by the Pacific

The shattered water made a misty din.
Great waves looked over others coming in,
And thought of doing something to the shore
That water never did to land before.
The clouds were low and hairy in the skies,
Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes.
You could not tell, and yet it looked as if
The shore was lucky in being backed by cliff,
The cliff in being backed by continent;
It looked as if a night of dark intent
Was coming, and not only a night, an age.
Someone had better be prepared for rage.
There would be more than ocean-water broken
Before God’s last Put out the light was spoken.

— Robert Frost

At the Sulzberger’s Summer Home

Bright blooms of flame spattered shadows on that tide
Whose strangling fingers clawed into our lands,
And scraped out slots, fresh graves upon our sands.

A far-off signal flared and sputtering fell,
Its bloom of sparks erupting deep in slate,
But, like our last edition, this signal came too late.

The drumming bursts of broken cannons
Stomped along the edges of our gilded cage,
And faded like the lies we smeared on our front page,

Faded until all we heard of want or wish or war
Were the screams of our grandchildren slain
Beyond our gilded sand, upon our once fruited plain.

— Van der Leun

My Back Pages

Van der Leun: The Normblog Bio of Your Host“From a student radical/hippie/leftist of the Free Speech Movement/Vietnam Day Commitee era and a full-on Democratic Liberal in the decades after, I think I’ve evolved a politics that is neither right nor left but is, in its elemental nature, draconian. In the last 20 years, I’ve taken apart my beliefs with a sledgehammer. Now I’ve got to put the surviving parts back together with tweezers and other ‘shabby equipment, always deteriorating’.”