By Dan Valentine
Ensenada Backpacker. “The hostel of the city.”
Two Italian women – mid-twenties, thereabouts; both beautiful; full of life; educated – walk out of the women’s dorm room, after a night’s sleep.
They’ve been here a couple of days.
One blond, one dark-haired. They both speak several languages. Italian, German, English, Spanish. Fluently. Of course! (It’s a European thing.)
In the United States, we’re lucky to learn English.
“Where are you going today?” I asked. No need for an answer, really. It was early morning. I was making coffee.
“We don’t know yet,” said one. “It’s our last night.”
“Where are you going from here?” I asked. Just making conversation.
“South,” she said.
“Less Americans,” I quipped.
“That’s good!” she said, and meant it.
“I agree,” I said.
And they both laughed. No explanation needed. Humor is identification. And Italians, faster than others, should/can/do connect the dots.
In the eyes of the world, both north and south of the border, across the seven seas, in and around and in between, and to a growing number of citizens born and bred in the United States, we are looked upon as:
Romans in ballcaps!
Chain-store togas (“You’re gonna like what you wear”), Nike clogs.
A nation fast-galloping into its Ben-Hur phase …
Christians and others fed to the lions on “Dancing With the Stars”. Credit card money-lenders …
If Christ were to return any day soon, where do you think He’d end up?
Gitmo is a good guess. No nails but lots of water. If I remember right, Charlton Heston gave Him a much needed sip on His way to, well, you-know-where.
I, myself, think He’d be picked up as a babbling vagrant on the streets of a southern town, locked up in a prison cell at night, tending some rich cattleman’s herd during the day, a short ways from the facility, and after some twenty years – after a lawyer has proven Him innocent of all charges and collected a large fee – let go. Then, looking up to the heavens, I think He would say, “They do not know what they do. Get me the hell outta here.”
In short, deja vu all over again.
Romans in ballcaps.
Posted by Ed Darrell 
Millard Fillmore's Bathtub 