For the first time in years, I celebrated the American Independence holiday.

Of course, in Texas, there’s no better way to celebrate the ideals of a people than by exercising one’s second amendment rights for a few hours.

These were but two of the finely crafted firearms I was privileged to wield. The only tragedy occurred when a typical Houston monsoon blew in and flooded the entire gun club in under 15 minutes of rain which prevented us from getting around to the Kalashnikov as grand finale.

Later, the sun came back while we were seeking refuge in a Mexican restaurant, like animals on the Ark. A short visit to a friend trapped in his home and then, afterward, came the 21-hour BBQ and hands-on fireworks extravaganza (replete with accidental explosion) in the backyard of a good friend.

Yeehaw!

In U.S. politics, unlike most first world nations, there are two major parties (with minor parties –so far– unable to enter the contest) dominating our state mechanics. This may explain why some Americans seem so “black and white” on issues which may have a measure of gray, let alone a rainbow of colors. However, the professionals of corruption have been ignoring their Senatorial duties in favor of the greatest horse race around: the Presidential election.

It’s no small endeavor, to say the least.

While the Republic Party has chosen its supreme leader some time ago, the Democratic Party has been plagued by a person unable to let go of the prize they felt they (somehow) deserved. For some months, a large percentage of civically-minded individuals have been caught up in the media pingpong of “who’s going to win” celebrity nonsense. In reality, the outcome was decided quite a while ago: it’s just that one person could not stop themselves from a selfish desire to pretend they might win when all realists knew they could not.

Just the other day, it became official. Any experienced person knew the nomination had already been locked, but the media kept selling advertisements by convincing the public a viable contest was underway. Ah, ratings. In this case, even the candidate in question mistakenly believed there was a chance. What, with all the hype.

Nonetheless, I think Hillary finally heard the message which has been ensconced in the experienced political observer’s mind these past couple dozen weeks. It was always there, but she refused to listen. At long last, the spoilt child has been spanked and the arrow found it’s mark.

While I think many of you might laugh along with me at the crude representation of the message, I do trust the more gullible of you will make an effort to refrain from misunderstanding the general sentiment. And, if I erringly ascribe to you respect you’re too immature to wield, then I’ll be amused should you opt to quioxtically attack the messenger.

The message? Quite old.

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I need a trim. But no matter where I wander along the beaches of Mamaia these days, it seems there’s no place to get a haircut.

Then again, all the seaside restaurants advertise fresh fish on their sidewalk chalkboard menus but don’t actually serve it. I suppose it’s a happily quirky tweenager of a burgeoning resort area just entering the squeaky voice period of its puberty. Give it ten years and this place will be smokin’ hot.