55

Mort Heinman, Brownsville's only uncircumcised Jew. met the girl of his dreams in Florianopolis during his recent trip to Brazil. It was a dark bar and he had been drinking when this beautiful young lady suddenly came bounding into his presence.

"My name is Candy Rue," she said. "What is your name?"

"My name is Mort. By your accent, I'm going to say that you are from Australia."

"Really? Is it that obvious?"

"Your accent gives you away, but there is something unmistakable in your appearance that brands you an Aussie."

The girl of his dreams turned into a nightmare as most these relationships do when two persons' journeys intersect for a few days. But he was glad they had spent time together. Short trysts have less pernicious effects in the long run.

"After spending time in South America, nothing has changed that would lend me to think that we don't deserve the wretched designation as the Third World Capital of the United States," Mort related upon his return to the border. "The South Americans don't think we're the greatest nation in the world and they consider most Americans ignorant and fanatical in their nationalistic and religious beliefs."

"Any country that has Donald Trump as President cannot be proud of itself," Candy told him one night as they bar-hopped around the beach resort.

"How could anyone be proud of such a bad person?" she huffed. "There is nothing good about him. He has the arrogance of a privileged person exacerbated by the stupidity of a redneck. The United States will never realize its potential until the white man becomes a minority. White is not right. White is humanity's blight."

Mort did not take it personally when she left him for an African hash vendor. By that time they had grown tired of thumping each other.

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