The Possum Chronicles:
Fred Admits Journalistic Dishonesty about Mexico
Fred Reed
903 words
I have a confession to make to my readers. I have been lying about Mexico. Yes. I am a poor sinner and meant no harm, but the devil got into me, and I have done wrong. I have said that Mexico was a pleasant country of agreeable people, and harmless. I have said that children here run and play in the fountains and enjoy the blessed life of the happy young. No, no! It wasn’t true. They die of hunger in the streets. Nay, Haiti must seem a paradise by comparison.
Oh, if I could repent and redeem myself! I know now I have lured many innocent Americans, virgins (well, that may be stretching it), children, people of ripe years and helpless into this hellhole of disease and corruption, where they have been robbed and killed and left to moulder in unmarked graves, like Ambrose Bierce. I laughed at Americans who asked me whether Mexico had paved roads. Oh, the shame of it! The truth is that Mexico does not. There are no paved roads in Mexico.
How I repent my lies. But it is too late.
What changed my life, and brought me to truth and the hope of salvation, was the horrid death of my friend Richard and his sweet family. We found his mortal remains in the burning rubble of his home in Jocotepec, a village on the north shore of Lake Chapala. Beside his half-eaten body we found his diary of his family’s last days. I reproduce parts of it here with other accurate and damning verities about this abominable country.
“July 2. We have been hearing gunfire in the hills but figure it is just narcos settling accounts. It has happened before.”
“July 6. Explosions in the hills last night. Probably RPGs.”
Any American living here, if honest, will tell you that rocket fire is common. Especially during fiestas. Veterans of Vietnam say that at times the detonations are as intense as anything they experienced in Asia.
“July 9. My daughter Chuleta arrived late at school today. A rabid coyote was in the street outside the house. She came back right away, having found that her class had been kidnapped again, except those at home with swine flu. The teachers say that if the children are released they will have to make the days up.”
“July 10. Peter Johnson is dead, presumably from food poisoning from bad mocha at the coffee shop on the plaza. Our group of Americans no longer leave our houses. We are cut off.”
And to think that I once made fun of Americans who believed disease to be everywhere in Mexico. How many of them have I killed with my fabrications?
“July 14. A policeman was shot to death by narcos this morning in the plaza, apparently to steal his cocaine. The water-treatment plant has stopped working. We fear plagues.”
“July 17. We stay in the house. Chuleta is sick with cholera. Dr. Perez came from the government clinic and sacrificed a chicken, but she got no better. He said it was a difficult case and would require a specialist who would chant and burn pig entrails.”
Food has become scarce in Mexico, a failed state. The reason of course is that the narcos have taken over all the farms to plant hemp, coca, poppies, and marijuana. A certain amount of corn is grown in clandestine fields in the mountains, but aircraft from the government spray these crops with herbicides.
“July 19. Chuleta died today. We were going to have a funeral but the wild dogs ate her.”
“July 21. I am alone. Even the government is attacking us. The helicopter of the Mexican air force dropped a load of cheap plaster bulls on the house. One hit my wife on the head. I was able to bury her decently because the sewage overflow from the water treatment plant has drowned the wild dogs.”
We who live in this inferno have learned not to trust the government. For years we heard from the peasants of nightmarish creatures that came from volcanic vents and devastated whole populations. We didn’t believe it. President Calderon himself assured us that it wasn’t true. Strange creatures? What nonsense. But then . . .
“July 23. We are doomed. This will be my last entry. The sewage has reached the front gate and feral possums have come from the hills to feed on corpses. If anyone finds this, tell my daughters in Spokane goodbye. For God’s sake, stay away from Mexico.
The possums are coming . . .”
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9 comments
Greetings from Spokane. It sounds like you should’ve stayed up here, Fred.
Is that the deadly Jewktapus that Greta was warning about last week?
Hahahahaha.
I hear the halls of Montezuma are being re-occupied, only this time by aging hipsters with online gigs.
Beware the zombie mariachis. Sometimes it takes several vials of holy water to turn them away.
You speak the truth wise one. These ominous auguries are widely heard by Central and South American migrants who bypass the apocalyptic (and yet Spanish speaking) Mexican wastelands in favor of the English speaking world.
Can’t tell if this is satire or not. One never knows with CC. I like Mexico. But I prefer Argentina, among the Spanish speaking countries. It looks nice in Carlos Reygadas films.
Fred, we all love your sense of humor, but some of us fear for your sanity.
As someone who lives in a shithole country, I agree there are oasis of 1st World, North European, Gulf Arabia standards of living inspite of the general mess.
I am sure shithole, ultra violent Mexico has the same dynamic
This satirical article makes me wonder if Mexico isn’t literally ruled by blood thirsty drug cartels (who have divided control of the country among themselves), has an unbelievable high homicide rate, grapples with a rape culture, generally has poor infrastructure and/or standards of living so bad MILLIONS literally die to migrate.
Maybe there are 2 or more Mexico’s 🤷🏾♂️
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