Thursday, June 30, 2022

ZIHUA: RAICILLA







An evening ignited by Raicilla, a potion we've heard about from Mascota in Jalisco, but haven't  imbibed...  until now.



 

ZIHUA: JUDGEMENT DAY





 


ZIHUA: MORNING CAFE

 




ZIHUA: MEXICO'S BEST KEPT SECRET




 

Locally-brewed pale ale & Alipus San Luis Del Rio Mezcal







No McDonald's, Wendy's, Burger King, KFC, Arby's, Subway, Starbucks...





...everything is homegrown and homemade...





...and those who live here don't leave, would not trade it for anywhere else.



Wednesday, June 29, 2022

Tuesday, June 28, 2022

ZIHUA: MEZCAL


 




Seems like a good time to graduate from tequila to mezcal (the sipping kind).

With the right guidance, it is a leap of faith.

"More organic than tequila," we are taught. "Mezcal is actually drops of time. You don't get drunk, you get closer to God."

Which translates to this: "Everyone should believe in something; I believe I'll have another mezcal."

Or this: "When mezcal speaks, people mumble."

Can you imagine if gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson, a master mumbler, had switched from Wild Turkey to mezcal? Would-a been a whole new language...



ZIHUA: LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS





Catalina Beach Resort—the oldest in Zihua—is  where Timothy Leary tripped with Ram Pass and 50 trainee trippers, summer of ’62 and ’63.

 

5,000 people applied to join Dr. Leary’s International Federation for Internal Freedom (IFIF) i.e., freedom from ego.

 

Only 50 were chosen to participate.



Guests paid $200 for a month's accommodation and meals plus a dose of LSD every 72 hours.

 

Upon arrival, they were provided this instruction:

 

“The aim of the transpersonative community is to liberate members from their webs so that they can soar, at will, through the infinite space of their consciousness or throughout the infinite time/space of the energy fields surrounding them. IFIF has come 4000 miles to get away from YOU! You may be frustrated to find people here who are uninterested in playing the game of YOU. Don’t feel hurt. Climb out of your web and float after 

them.


The New York Times recently reported:


The central goal was creating a community to go forth and remake human psychology, a reset deemed necessary at the dawn of the atomic age.


Among the few living participants of the IFIF experiment, Gunther Weil, 85, a psychologist and management and leadership consultant, recalls it vividly. “The Catalina was a 24-7 olfactory sensory experience,” he said. “I once saw a plant grow overnight.”

The Zhhuatanejo historian Rodrigo Campus Aburto, a young teen in the 1960s, recalls that the community thought the mostly American trippers were lunatics.

He also remembers older teens sometimes attended fiestas that IFIF hosted on the beach. "Moon, fire and beer," is how he describes the parties.

On June 13, 1963, the Mexican government formally gave the group 20 days to leave the country. It’s unclear exactly what prompted the expulsion.


The Catalina appears to have changed little in 60 years.



ZIHUA: SENORITA HERMOSA

 





ZIHUA: CENTRO


 








ZIHUA ZEST

 





BUENOS DIAS, ZIHUA!

 






Monday, June 27, 2022

ZIHUA: MOODY ARRIVES...

 
















Along with the new fam...



ZIHUATANEJO


 



Ry Guy & The Dude claim this is the "best vacation spot we've ever been." 

Yet we're here only 18 hours and have hardly scratched the surface.



PLAYA LA ROPA: ZIHUA'S MAIN BEACH



 


Clouds assembling for this afternoon's lightning display.



Sunday, June 26, 2022

ZIHUA

 




Zihuatanejo (or Zihua for short) is an old Mexican fishing village known for its daily catch, artisans, musicians and—most of all—colorful authenticity.

Y’all can keep Cabo, Cancun, and those other high rise tourist depots. 


Lesser known Zihua, on the Pacific (150 miles north of Acapulco), is the cool zone for experiencing Mexico's wondrous delights.




SB NEWS-PRESS: THE INVESTIGATOR: NEW WORLD DISORDER












Back in the mid-1970s, the Trilateral Commission, a private international think-tank (and an arm of the power elite) was first to conceive the phrase “New World Order.” It became the hallmark of their agenda, albeit for internal deliberation only, not public consumption. Which meant that critics outside their bailiwick who dared utter the words “new world order” were immediately dubbed “conspiracy theorists.”     

Fast forward 50 years later: On the heels of the Trilateral Commission’s meeting in Washington DC just two weekends ago, Russian dictator Vladimir Putin introduced his own “New World Order” at the St. Petersburg International Economic Forum (SPIEF), an entity he created in 2005 under presidential authority i.e., his own.

For readers unfamiliar with the Trilateral Commission: It got born out of a Bilderberg Meeting after its core “steering committee” members determined the time had arrived for Japan’s elite, having attained status as an industrial powerhouse, to merge with the elites of the United States and Western Europe.


(So, what is Bilderberg, you may ask?  Answer: A precious group of global manipulators that has been meeting privately since 1954 to quietly influence governments and from behind the scenes brought about European Union.)


A relatively unknown Columbia University professor of Russian Studies named Zbigniew Brzezinski was invited to attend Bilderberg in 1972 (Knokke, Belgium) by his patron, Chase Manhattan Bank Chairman David Rockefeller, so that Zbig could introduce his “Tripartite Studies,” which proposed that Japanese business titans and their cherry-picked politicians be welcomed into the mix.


The burghers of bilateral Bilderberg nixed that ideation. Instead, they favored creating a whole new entity: The Trilateral Commission—three spheres instead of two—whose objective was to quietly guide, through its influential membership, foreign and economic policies of their own making. 


It was the beginning of what we now call “globalism.”


 

ARISING FROM NOWHERE

 


With approval from “the highest political and financial circles” (internal Trilateral Commission memo) Mr. Rockefeller and Dr. Brzezinski set out to recruit members. Many came from the secure ranks of Bilderberg. But this pair also felt courageous enough to reach out of their powerbroking network and boldly invite a peanut farmer and Governor of Georgia named Jimmy Carter, who would, three years later, “arise from nowhere” (as power elite appointees often do)— “nowhere,” in this case, being David and Zbig and their pals (with a potful of presidential campaign money), who plotted to launch their New World Order from inside the White House.


Although President Carter did indeed fill his cabinet almost entirely of Trilateral Commission members including Vice President Walter Mondale, Secretary of State Cyrus Vance, Defense Secretary Harold Brown, and Treasury Secretary W. Michael Blumenthal (while self-seeking Zbig became national security adviser), it was Mr. Carter’s “Georgia Boys”—Hamilton Jordon, Jody Powell, and Stu Eizenstat—who ran the Executive Branch and, by extension, the country.


As CIA founding member Miles Copeland, an old boy from Alabama, told us at the time, the elderly cabinet members would hem and haw while these youngsters from Georgia (all three in their early 30s) kept the globalists at arm’s length and determined policy amongst themselves.


So: No New World Order. (Mr. Rockefeller had his revenge by arranging for the ailing Shah of Iran to come to the United States for medical treatment, which led to the Iran hostage crisis at the U.S. embassy in Tehran.


Add soaring inflation plus interest rates at 20 percent and that, in a (pea)nutshell, folks, is why Mr. Carter lasted only one term, replaced in the White House eight years later by another Trilateral Commissioner, George H. W. Bush, who not only implemented the Commission’s New World Order but also publicly announced it as such, declaring that the 1991 Persian Gulf War wasn’t about “one small country but a big idea, a NEW WORLD ORDER.”


Surprise, surprise.

 

            

    PUTRID PUTIN'S PLAN


            

Now back to SPIEF and Vladimir Putin’s own “New World Order,” which, as usual with this messianic megalomaniac, is his way of taking another whack at the West, his personal pastime when not gleefully supervising the murder, mayhem and rape going on in Ukraine at the hands of his less enthusiastic, sacrificial troops.


Mr. Putin vows that this “special operation” will lead to his very own “new world order.


“It is erroneous that one can sit and wait when the time of turbulent changes goes by,” he announced to his forum in St. Petersburg, which lasted four days and hosted 13,500 dignitaries from 141 countries including China, whose president, Xi Jinping, delivered a speech via video. (So much for global unity against Mr. Putin’s Ukraine misadventure.)



This ruthless Russian dictator took the opportunity to accuse the European Union of “dancing to someone else’s tune.” He was referring, of course, to the United States, which, he believes, is calling the shots against his wicked war, a stance derived from his disappointment at not being able to drive an early wedge between NATO and European Union countries. But, more likely, he is mocking the globalists, trying to steal their thunder along with their tagline.


Mr. Putin claims that the Western power elite “clings to shadows of the past” and that their “divorce from reality… will inevitably lead to deep degradation in Europe, leading to the replacement of current elites.”


Judging by the disorderliness to which we have evolved since the Trilateral Commission was formed 50 years ago, coupled with Vladimir Putin’s poisonous, imperialistic ambitions, it looks as though both sides of this Alice in Wonderland looking glass have conjured up little more than a New World DISORDER.


 

WATERGATED


 

Soon after Trilateral Commission members disassembled from Washington a fortnight ago, there was much hullabaloo in our nation’s capital due to the 50th anniversary of Watergate, that is, a half-century since the botched burglary at the Watergate complex, whose cover-up led, ultimately, to the first (and thus far only) presidential resignation in U.S. history.


The question that still vexes Washington Post sleuth Robert Woodward, a question he posed at a symposium held at his newspaper to commemorate the occasion, was this: WHY?  As in, why did President Richard Nixon, on the cusp of easy victory to reelection, risk everything in an illegal attempt to gain access to whatever might have been locked up in Democratic National Committee (DNC) files?


One could suggest Mr. Nixon was paranoid; that he believed his enemies were out to get him (they were, normal in politics, but in his case more intensely); and wanted to know what dirt THEY had on him. He knew (and so does everyone now) that the 1960 presidential election was stolen out from under him by votes emanating from Chicago’s cemeteries as orchestrated by Joe Kennedy waving a baton at his Prohibition pals in the Mafia. (Earlier, Joe pulled strings in West Virginia to clinch the Democratic nomination for his son.) Mr. Nixon knew the truth —and gracefully let it go. But it had made him rather sensitive to Kennedy campaign tactics and strategy and he became irrationally convinced that another Kennedy—Ted—would announce his candidacy and beat him in ’72 despite Chappaquiddick, where 28-year-old Mary Jo Kopechne lost her life, drowning in a car the U.S. Senator from Massachusetts abandoned late one night in July 1969 after taking a wrong turn, skidding off a one-lane bridge and landing in the drink.  


Yet half-a-century later, if the “why” still vexes Bob Woodward, a highly astute and committed student of Washington intrigue, there must have been something going on far more murky than mere paranoia, which, from Mr. Nixon’s perspective was somewhat justified.



A product of Whittier, California, Mr. Nixon never signed onto the Eastern Establishment, whose members felt entitled to ownership rights over foreign policy—and U.S. policy in general. (President Lyndon Johnson, half a decade earlier, had not signed on either, but LBJ’s concession was retaining “the best and the brightest”—JFK’s so-called crowd of Harvard intellectuals—to steer his presidency, though, their escalation of the Vietnam War might more aptly designate them “the worst and the dimmest.”)


In his quest for intelligence that might aid his imagined campaign against Teddy, President Nixon had already dispatched his snarling Rottweilers—H.R. “Bob” Haldeman and John Ehrlichman—on a fishing expedition to Langley, try to hook what CIA files on the Kennedy Administration’s attempts to assassinate Cuba’s Fidel Castro (an operation still hush-hush back then—along with assassinations in general—having been hatched when Mr. Nixon was vice president under President Dwight Eisenhower and inherited by JFK).  


Moreover, Mr. Nixon was convinced that DNC chairman Lawrence O’Brien had information about bribes paid to himself and his younger brother, Donald, by reclusive tycoon Howard Hughes, who had been trying for several years to quash the Atomic Energy Commission’s underground nuclear testing in Nevada (where he lived) due to (valid) concerns about radioactive contamination.


When news reached President Nixon about what Larry O’Brien possessed, he may well have panicked, leading to irrational behavior—and rendering him easy prey for a trap.


 

            HANK & THE PRATT HOUSE CROWD 


 

Enter Henry Kissinger, assigned to the White House (through New York Governor Nelson Rockefeller) by what Mr. Nixon called “the Pratt House crowd,” to keep the Nixon White House in check and, as national security adviser (back then a lowly position that Dr. K elevated to the stratosphere), and shape foreign policy, especially after he became secretary of state.  (Pratt House, in New York City, is home to the Council on Foreign Relations, a private entity that has been referred to as “the brain trust of the establishment.”)


Dr. Kissinger, who privately referred to his boss as “the meatball mind” and “that madman,” fed Mr. Nixon’s madness, his paranoia, and insisted that, in the interest of national security, White House leaks must be plugged, whatever laws might be broken in the process. Hence, at Henry’s direction, a “Plumber’s Unit” was created under John Ehrlichman (run by an operative who liaised between Dr. K and Mr. Ehrlichman) to investigate and patch their leaky pipes. Enter E. Howard Hunt (ex-CIA), G. Gordon Liddy (ex-FBI), Frank Sturgis (ex-CIA asset) and James McCord (ex-CIA official likely reporting back to CIA)—and their team of Cubans (ex-CIA assets) who had assisted with another rogue operation nine years earlier. 


Thus began a series of illegal break-ins that foreshadowed Watergate, including the psychiatric practice of Dr. Lewis Fielding to steal his medical file on Daniel Ellsberg, a Pentagon bureaucrat who had blown the whistle on the Vietnam War by exposing “The Pentagon Papers,” which caught the government in multiple lies and failures—and severely embarrassed Dr. K.



It may well be that the real objective of the Watergate break-in was for the Plumbers to get caught red-handed, as in, set up by their own superiors. An anonymous telephone call to the on-duty security guard was all it would have taken.


Well, not entirely. It needed a push to launch it from the back pages of The Washington Post to page one. Enter W. Mark Felt, Associate Director of the FBI, who, as “Deep Throat,” provided Mr. Woodward with tidbits about Nixon Campaign slush funds that paled in comparison to those maintained by Lyndon Johnson and others before him. (Mr. Felt had his own personal gripe, believing he should have been chosen to succeed J. Edgar Hoover, who died six weeks before the Watergate burglary, as director of the FBI.)


In desperation, President Nixon sent new emissaries to Langley to solicit their assistance to counter the onslaught against him. CIA would not comply and refused to get involved, so Mr. Nixon fired its director, Dick Helms.


In retaliation, the agency found a way, through Alexander Butterfield, to reveal the existence of a White House tape-recording system, which led to cover-up conversations that, effectively, fired Dick Nixon.



So: Was President Nixon set up and kissed off by Henry the K?  It would certainly answer the vexing 50-year-old question Bob Woodward finds so elusive.


A sidenote:  Watergate bequeathed upon society the absurdity of ensuring that every future scandal would be post-fixed with the word “gate”—and that every future secretive source from the inside would be given the moniker “Deep Throat.” 





Sunday, June 19, 2022

SB NEWS-PRESS: THE INVESTIGATOR: MEDICAL MALARKEY & MORE




 





A reader reported to us that a Santa Barbara physician named Rachel Trautwein, who practices family medicine at Sansum Clinic’s Carpinteria facility, got angry when her offer of a Covid jab was refused.


“I declined the Covid vaccine, and she was furious,” our reader wrote us. “Dr. Trautwein informed me that not one person has died from the shot and continued to try to persuade me to get it while I was only wearing a gown on the exam table.” (Maybe Bob Saget, Ivan Reitman, and Ray Liotta, British soccer star Craig Farrell…?)


It did not end there.


According to our reader, Dr. Trautwein “didn’t want to see me again and wrote scathing notes in my file.” 


It is the nature of such notes that concern us, especially this line: “She [the patient] mistrusts the government and CDC.”








Whoa! 


Is there a new M.O. or mandate for doctors to notate in medical files if a patient does 

not trust the government? 


And if so, what’s next, a government registry (assisted by medical doctors) of 

the unvaccinated?


Scary.


We contacted Sansum Clinic with this question: Is it your policy to note in medical files whether a patient trusts or mistrusts the government and CDC?


We received this written response from the clinic’s Medical Director, Dr. Marjorie Newman, which we have edited down to the salient issue of our query: “Indicating the rationale for why a patient may be vaccine hesitant or has not elected to get vaccinated despite the clinical evidence to support vaccination, is also important information to note, as they may help with educational efforts, foster shared decision making, and allow for a subsequent provider to understand an individual’s beliefs.”


Double-whoa!


We followed up with this question: Since when has it become the role of medical professionals to document an individual’s beliefs—and where exactly does that end? 


We have not heard back.


 

            IN PURSUIT OF A POLICE CHIEF


 

The selection process for a new chief of police in Santa Barbara has been underway for the past three months. April 22nd was the file date for applicants and finalist interviews took place earlier this month. The department’s Community Engagement Manager Shelly Cone told The Investigator that “no estimated date” has been established for a final decision or when a new chief can be expected to commence his or her duties.


Judging by the City’s track record, one hopes its decision-makers will choose better than they have in the recent past.


Lori Luhnow, SB’s first female police chief, retired abruptly in early 2021 after questions were raised about her relationship with Anthony Wagner, a fellow San Diegan who followed her up to become SBPD’s “Information & Engagement Manager,” a post created just for him. The department has since been led by Interim Chief Bernard Melekian.


Before Ms. Luhnow, the department was ruled for 15 years by Cam Sanchez, who, some believed (this columnist included) was out of his depth.


In fact, within these pages in February 2009, The Investigator called out Mr. Sanchez for abuse of power stemming from an incident at Shoreline Park. As we penned back then: “The facts, as established in court, strongly suggest that the police chief did indeed abuse his position  of power to have an individual arrested, cuffed and removed from a public park, and then incarcerated against his will, not because this individual had broken any law (a jury unanimously decided in less than three hours), but because he not did want this individual causing a spectacle in his presence.


“The chief’s abuse of authority was further compounded that afternoon when he allowed a limousine from his nephew’s wedding party to block the eastbound traffic lane and bike path on Shoreline Drive, without a permit, for at least 40 minutes—and to close the park’s sidewalk from pedestrian use, also without permit.”


It got worse, and complaints about Chief Sanchez filled our mailbox. 


When the identity of Santa Barbara’s next police chief is announced we shall conduct our own comprehensive background investigation and publish the results.


            

            BULLIES BEWARE


 

I have an admission: I hate bullies.


I especially hate schoolyard bullies (kids and teachers)—or any kind of childhood bully.


If you, dear reader, want to motivate me with a story idea, direct me to a bully. Point them out and I’m there. Could be a bully of any age, doesn’t matter, because I hate them all.


I especially don’t like big egos who bully people. Like self-imaged “celebrities” who utter things like, “Do you have any idea who I am?”


The correct answer: Just another deluded fool who needs a year in a monastery.


I suffered a few bullies myself, which is partly why I hate them so much.


One such bully was a neighborhood kid, growing up in Beverly Hills. I didn’t live in a fancy neighborhood but on a typical southern Cal suburban street lined with modest ranch houses with sidewalks and backyards.


We had about 20 kids on our block and every day after school most of them would come out to play. (Imagine THAT in our highly programmed times with oppressive homework, sports obligations, and safety issues.)


We played catch, touch football, ditch; we raced on foot, rode bikes, climbed trees, traded baseball cards and coins—and sometimes just sat around and shot the breeze (not with guns; no one had yet been medicated by Big Pharma…).


And then there was that bully.


He was a couple years older than me (they usually are, bullies, older and bigger; cowards who pick on a sure bet). As I look back now, he was less free, more repressed, than the rest of our happy-go-lucky North Palm Drive gang. His family, for reasons best known to themselves, would not join in the family picnics at Roxbury Park we shared with two other neighborhood fams.


For this bully’s own reasons, he tried to make my life hell for a couple of years, recruiting other kids, when possible, to join him in a relentless campaign of teasing.


It was rarely physical (just once) but it hurt—and hurt enough to make me want to go after bullies the rest of my life, which is probably why I became an investigative journalist.


Sadly, there is much too much abuse of power, hypocrisy, corruption and bullying in the world; part of what we call the human condition.


And though I wish I could take it all on, smack it into oblivion, it is an impossible task, though I’ll never stop trying.


Anyway, back to my childhood bully.


I forgive him. As Mark Twain said, “Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” I even thank him for helping me grow into the person I became, taking on bullies.


He did well too; joined the U.S. State Department and became its longest serving diplomat. It is ironic (to me, anyway) that the walls of his boyhood bedroom were plastered with large black & white posters of Mao Zedong (the longtime Red Chinese Communist Party chairman) and Ho Chi Minh (the North Vietnamese leader, archenemy of the USA), beneath which, on his bed, he read the philosophies of Karl Marx while chomping on his toenails (we kid you not).


This may partly explain why our country has evolved into the socialistic welfare state to which globalists aspire.


I recall learning that communist countries were becoming more capitalistic while capitalistic countries were becoming more socialistic—and that we’d meet around the other side. However, we haven’t so much met as collided.


Everyone involved in deciding US foreign policy over the past 60 years has, whether by design or accident, screwed us all. They’ve spent our money (or given it away), borrowed trillions more and killed off our children.


If you have any doubt whatsoever about this, take a minute or three to reflect on the Vietnam War, our handling of Russia after the Cold War supposedly ended, the invasion of Iraq following 9/11 (over non-existent weapons of mass destruction), and Afghanistan, our multi-year debacle and abrupt surrender leaving billions of dollars of weaponry to the Taliban and thousands of loyal Afghanis to be killed or become subservient to brutal, fanatical, fundamentalist oppressors.


Please, new generations, do not become hypnotized by a sleight-of-hand performed by those who mislead and who desire to distract your attention by directing it to Johnny Depp and other titillating trivialities. De-charge from anti-social media, read books (lots of them) and smarten up.


Our future as a nation depends on it.

 

 

            DUKE & DUCHESS REDUX


 

We were deluged by an avalanche of email from around the globe after last Sunday’s column, The Duke & Duchess of Woke (or Woe), which set social media ablaze and brought worldwide attention to this newspaper.

 

Here, a sampling of snippets:


NP: “I have a feeling that one day Harry will leave, and Meghan will become Oprah’s social secretary.”


RP (in Wisconsin), who read it on Tumblr: “I am so sick of PR firms trying to tell us what to think. Either those egomaniacs want privacy, or they don’t.”


CM (in Oregon): “I don’t take kindly to ex-royals who prance around and appear grieving in Uvalde when they could have brought more than a box of sandwiches. They’re marching their connections to make money.”


OS: “Sir, you are brilliant.” 


Comment: Blushing.


JA: “Truth prevails.”


Comment: Our sentiments, precisely.


Jessica: “Thank you so much for having the gumption to write an amazing article that’s making its way around the world and has so many people commenting on social media.”


LB (in Australia): “Thank you for your article on the dubious duo. Always wondered what their local community thought about them. Bonzie, bewdy—you little ripper.”


Comment: From our experience, Harry and Megs are not very visible around Montecito and not a topic of conversation among Montecitans. 


VH: “Bravo from Tasmania. I just kept saying yes, Yes, YES. Hurrah to you and hurrah to me for my first ever fan letter.”


LM: “I loved your piece on the car-crash soap opera that is Harry and Meghan. Thanks for the entertaining read. It’s all become sad and pathetic.”


CN: “Excellent!!! Cheers from NY!”


VC: “Having found a reference in the Daily Mail to your column, I write to express joy and appreciation…”


AF: “Fantastic article. I read this and my head went Boom!”


NR (from England): “A genuine thank you for reporting the truth on the ghastly duo.”


KG (from Australia): “Thank you Robert Eringer, thank you so very much.”


BB: “Thank you very much for an honest commonsense opinion of Harry, Meghan, and their toxic drivel. For too long, anyone who called them out publicly faced the wrath of the woke mob (including yours truly).”


Our comment: The only wrath we felt would be two negative emails (compared to about 75 positive missives). As much as we believe in freedom of expression and normally publish points of view that differ from our own, these messages were too full of vitriol (what we call a “woke-choke”) to reproduce in a family newspaper.  If they want us to face their wrath, they must take a number and stand in line like everyone else, mindful that the Ku Klux Klan (from over 40 years ago) is still at the forefront of a very long queue.