My office issue desk calendar notes that it is flag day in Mexico.  My calendar clearly hates America.  Maybe I will have tacos for dinner, Benito Juarez would have wanted it that way.

Speaking of tacos for dinner, some of you may have read about the dude who fell in a mixer and died horribly in a tortilla factory in Brooklyn.  Holy six feet under, this place is right next door to my studio.  It has been shuttered ever since, but I hope it will open again soon, for the smell of fresh tortilla is one of the few nice things about my street.  Everyday I walk by there, and nod to the nice people working quietly inside.  Everything else on the block is chop shops tire repair and auto body joints with dudes leering at you on the sidewalk playing ear-splitting, tinny music.

Sorry, Benito, that was a tangent.  Back to Mexican pride.  I must admit, I know squat about our downstairs neighbors.  I have enjoyed El Santo and watching their futbol team lose in the opening round of the world cup.  And I can’t overstate my love for tacos.  ¡Viva México!