I was dancing a few years back when it seemed that the locals had driven Rumsfeld out of Taos, where he had a timeshare in a ranch and would periodically sally forth to spread outrage and despair among the populace.
They fought back.
They'd take the Giant Puppets down to the gates of the ranch and chant anti-Rummy chants, and they'd leave curses written on pieces of paper attached to the barbed wire, sometimes they'd even confront the evil little bastard in the flesh.
Word came that he'd sold the timeshare, and there was caroling in the Plaza to celebrate.
Too soon, it seemed.
The Rummys found a local homeowner in financial distress, and bought her out at a steep discount, getting themselves a prime piece of Taos property for a song, and they did some dancing themselves. They are, they say, "frugal."
The evil Rummy and Mrs Rummy.
So the locals continue to protest and chant and carry around their Giant Puppets and have drum circles and express their displeasure at the pollution of their grand high mountain retreat, and the Rummys keep a low profile rather than be pelted with manure and rotten squash and other detritus.
I don't know what happened with the the restraining order.
(Yes, I know the time sequences are all a-jumble. That's the way things go in these parts.)
No comments:
Post a Comment