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“Have you been faithful to me in our marriage?” Don Cucoldo asked Dona Casilda, his wife, that question. She replied: “With all my soul.” She asked Don Cucoldo again, suspiciously: “And with the body?” (This reminds me of the case of the wife who went to confession. The priest asked her: “Are you faithful to your husband?” The lady answered proudly: “Most of the days, father”).

The organizers of the International Book Fair in Monterrey asked me to talk about myself at my conference. It wasn’t hard for me to do it: all of us, whatever we talk about, talk about ourselves. Every word we say is autobiography. I titled my talk “Unspeakable Confessions,” and in it I recounted memories, some memorable, others I’d rather forget. Among other things, I said that I studied to be a lawyer not because Law attracted me, but for the simple reason that it was the only career that in those years could be studied in Saltillo in which there was no subject related to mathematics, a subject that has always inspired an invincible dread. I really regret that, because I know that in mathematics there is beauty and harmony, as in music, and that without numbers, it is obvious, we could not live. But I am a man of stories, not accounts, and I have only counted -with my fingers- to measure the lines of a sonnet. I must say, however, that mathematics has the facility of the exact: each problem has only one true solution; all the others are false.

On the other hand, the problems posed by Law carry within themselves the immense and deep complexity of human life, hence there is something in it that has no place in mathematics: interpretation. The laws can be interpreted, but not the axioms of mathematics. I have for me that judges do not sleep as well as arithmetic teachers.

By studying Law I learned that the law is the foundation of society. The legal motto says it well: “Where there is society there is law, and where there is law there is society”. Such a principle, unfortunately, does not correspond to the reality of Mexico, whose President is capable of spouting nonsense the size of a cathedral, such as: “And don’t tell me that the law is the law.”

Well, it turns out that, whatever the absolute monarch of the country says, the law is the law, and whoever deviates from it threatens society and undermines its foundations. That is why I was saddened to learn that Mexico is classified by the World Justice Project as one of the nations with the least rule of law, along with countries such as Bolivia, Venezuela, Nicaragua and Haiti. In high school I had a teacher who spent 45 minutes of his class dictating to us long paragraphs that he read from a book. We nicknamed him “The Great Dictator”, named after Chaplin’s film.

The same qualifier deserves the Caudillo of the 4T. His contempt for the law makes him, in effect, a dictator. And if he manages to take over the INE, as is his intention, Mexico will continue on the dark path that will lead it to stop being, definitively, a state of Law and become a waste of state. Dulcibel was a beautiful girl, but somewhat lacking in caletre.

Afrodisio Pitongo, a salacious man, invited her to go with him to his apartment. He asked her: “What for?” Once in her apartment, Pitongo told her: “Let’s go to the bedroom.” Dulcibel asked again: “What for?” She asked Aphrodisius: “Undress.” And the girl, again: “What for?” And he: “Lie down on the bed.” The girl repeated: “What for?” So the lewd hunk did what he had to do. “Ah! -exclaimed Dulcibel jubilantly-. Now I know what for!”. FINISH.


The walnut trees have given us so many nuts this year that with them I could make a big ladder and a small one to climb to Heaven.
Each nut, even if we don’t know how to see it, is a wonder. Inside that small chest fits all the sun of the year, and all the rainwater, and all the wind that comes down from the mountain. Also each one, if you read it well, is a treatise on theology, and a miracle that should be appreciated.
We share our nuts with the squirrels, the pigeons and the children who on the way to school pick up the ones that fall on the way. Others will become, after passing through the wonderful hands of women, in the sweets that will give flavor to the days of Christmas. Others will go to the table of the poor. The most, unfortunately, we will sell. Such a gift, so much from Don Dios, should not be the object of sale.
These days I carry a nut in my pocket. I touch it, and my heart and soul are filled with that other gift called gratitude.
See you tomorrow!…


“. AMLO’s ‘corcholatas’ attack each other from under the table.”
With fights like that,
and seeing such kicks,
so deliberately anticipated,
sure the king has fun.

Source: Debate

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J. A. Allen

Author, blogger, freelance writer. Hater of spiders. Drinker of wine. Mother of hellions.

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