I might have mentioned, I made it to the "Three Pagodas Pass" border station last month. That's the Thai/Burma border, or Thai/Myanmar if you prefer ("Burma" seems to be making a comeback). My friend Suksa and his wife are standing with a Burmese border guard. The guard is not smiling, but if he were you'd see that his teeth are stained black from chewing betel nut. No one in Thailand does that anymore. He was an interesting guy in other ways. He was very friendly, for instance, gregarious even. He spoke very good English, and very good Thai. He cheerfully posed for pictures, and he even let us walk inside the gate a little bit and see a couple of things (without paying the VISA fee). Suksa was of the opinion that the Burmese government wanted to put their best face forward at this border post.
Mr. C is: a reformed lawyer; a religious atheist; a useful "Handy Man;" an amateur social scientist; a beloved teacher; a well liked husband and father; Ambassador Emeritus from, and to, Planet X; a freelance professor; taxi driver to the stars (Joe DiMaggio and Ronald McDonald, both out of uniform); an excellent fire fighter; an enthusiastic but untalented musician; an experienced counselor; a top-notch disk jockey; an all around get-along-guy; a cunning linguist; a would-be lifestyle victim; a Masonic wannabe; a frequent reader; Professor Irwin Corey's Ph.D. adviser; an accomplished driver and motorcyclist; a famous rockologist; a reliable but indifferent bullshit detective; a poor speller; a proud United States Navy veteran (honorably discharged, barely); the Ayatollah of Ass-o-Hola; a drug legend; a Returned Peace Corps volunteer (Thailand); a generally charming man; nationally and internationally known from coast to coast; a legend in his own mind; a cultural-anthropological critic-at-large; an avenging angel who coolly bides his time; Soul Brother number 37; and a friend to the poor.