saving the galaxy

I am going to save you from a Trump diatribe.

This morning's Oregonian blared "Trump revealed secrets." That caught my attention.

The disclosure of classified information has long been my political bête noire -- even though I was a bit baffled that anyone would criticize the president for revealing classified information. That is well within the executive's authority.

What bothered me was in the text of the story. That the disclosure may have jeopardized our ally's trust that we will not share information they have provided. And we now all know the source of the classified information was one of our truest allies -- Israel.

My long-held aversion to disclosing classified information stems from rather specific events where friends, acquaintances, and contacts are now dead as a result of the work of such traitors as Philip Agee.

But, I decided enough commentators and amateurs are donning ashes and wallowing in ashes. If there is one aspect of being up north that has really disappointed me, it is the constant conversation about President Trump. I have yet to have a conversation with anyone up here that has not been either hagiographic hero worship or fears that the seventh seal of the Apocalypse has been opened.

So, I am not going to write about The Donald -- because he bores me. And I would appreciate not getting into a discussion in the comments section. We can talk about something else.

And that is exactly what Ken, Kimmy, Matthew, and I did today. To avoid mining the depths of the Trump bucket, we headed off to Cabela's, who touts itself as "The World's Foremost Outfitter." Outfitter of sporting equipment, that is.

I have taken a liking to wearing angling shirts. And most of mine are suffering from the wear and tear of Mexican life. So, hunting I went. And ended up empty handed as sportsmen often do.

The best I could bag was some cinnamon salt water taffy. It is true that taffy is not on my current food list. But I like it, and a few pieces will not damn me to nutrition Hell -- unless you listen too closely to the anti-sugar hysterics.

No trip to Cabela's would be complete, though, without visiting its second floor of firearms. There are banks of rifles for hunting the wily game whose taxidermic remains dot the store.

But my favorite room is the vintage gun room. Especially, the hand guns. It is fun to point out the various guns James Bond has used in the novels and the never-ending films.

Then we were off to a movie. Not a James Bond piece.

Ken, Kimmy, and Matthew did not have an opportunity to see Guardians of the Galaxy, Volume Two last night. Kimmy and Matthew had already seen it three or four times. I saw it in Bend with my family. Ken was the only one of our group who had not seen it.

I had the choice of staying home alone or joining them. Since I had traveled up here to enjoy their company, I decided to steel myself and watch it again.

For whatever reason, I found it a bit more enjoyable the second time. I must have been in the wrong mood when I saw it the first time.

I really enjoyed the first three Star Wars movies. The characters in Guardians come close to connecting on a personal level. And the story line has a lot of similarities -- even though this one lacked a lot of back story.

But it is a movie based on comic books. What can I expect?

In execution, it is a lot more like the second series of Star War movies. Special effects and star battles quickly maneuver the characters into secondary roles. Violence and noise become the stars.

These short visits are a bit frustrating. I enjoy the company of my friends. But Ken will be taking me to the Seattle airport in the morning on his way to battle his way through traffic to conduct a hearing in downtown Seattle. Even though my flight is in the early afternoon, I will probably be in Bend before he gets back home.

And, out of the blue, there is another reason I am glad to live in my part of Mexico. Traffic is not a problem.

But, before I start extolling the virtues of Mexico, I still have a week and a half to enjoy the pleasures of Oregon. And more pithy observations await.