May 1st. Garbageman came. Toilets flushed. Internet, phone, TV online. Getting to work took a little longer than usual. The roads were ununsually clear but I stopped at every store on the way. At work nothing unusual. Plain day. The trip home likewise, again a little light on traffic.

So much for the Great American Boycott. Some restaurants were closed. Big whup. No more tacos and burritos for you Gringo! But there were also no lines for gas. And the schools were uncrowded. This is bad? Clearly El Gran Boyocoto hurt most exactly those people it was meant to call attention to. Just what the victimologist ordered.

There were disturbing stories from the border. Mobs disrupted the flow of traffic, blocking the border completely at times, then letting it through. On and off. On and off. The messages is clear. We, the invaders, so well-entrenched so self-confident now openly brandish our power. We close and open with ease the very gates to the castle we’ve invaded. The old owners cannot or will not defend themselves. We will take what is theirs. We will be the new owners.

Why wasn’t the US National Guard mobilized? Wasn’t this kind of lawlessness expected? I’m no fan of The Man but one of the few things worse than a Police State is Mob Rule. Mobs are not cool. The use of this political tool has certain revolutionary and umm apocalyptic tendencies. They kept Che and their Mexican flags on the down low, but there’s no mistaking the marxist class warfare agitation at the core. There’s little doubt which direction they want to take things:

Open the borders. Redistribute the wealth. Re-educate the masses. To death.

Next up: an especially raucous Cinqo de Mayo.