I remain curious as to what happens.

Oh, I’m a hoot. My favorite, usually when I wish I hadn’t graced everyone with my presence where “Republican types” have gathered and hope never to be asked to again, is posing the question of why god gave the Muslims all the oil. Leaves everyone speechless. While I finish the Jack Daniels and slip out through the kitchen.

I like to walk. Odd habit. I often walk to Fiesta. I often walk to a friend’s on West Main near Shepherd. Sometimes we walk to the Menil. You should walk the neighborhood before you tell someone they don’t know the neighborhood.

As Rick Perry would say, “Adios, mo-fo.” That’s Spanish for drop dead.

Bernard’s idea for a park to take the place of Wilshire Village is a fine idea. But anyone that thinks he could get $50 a square foot for bare dirt in that neighborhood, located on unimproved streets that flood, bounded by mega power poles and a fiber optic channel that AT&T has to dig up every few years or so might need to think twice. That per square foot price needs to be added to the cost of hefty street, sewer, and utility improvements, even before a pencil hits a napkin.

Your antics are not amusing. English is spoken in every establishment I frequent, and I’m not referring to the brutish grunts shared between you and the misanthropes you associate with. Furthermore, you are either clearly not aware of this property’s locale or lack a basic understanding of Houston’s real property market. That is all.

I suspect you don’t live in the neighborhood. Suffice it to say you hear “hola” more than you hear “hello.”