Holy Week in Antigua is like nothing else in the world, and when it is over, you will be certain of one thing.  The good people of Guatemala believe that Jesus suffered publicly and died publicly. Semana Santa, while beautiful, is dark and filled with spiritual silence and introspection.

As to the subsequent resurrection, well, in Antigua that kinda gets glossed over. There is a procession or two on Easter Sunday, and they are generally more spirited and uplifting, but also very sparsely attended.

Though we are both Collapsed Catholics, we honor the seriousness and solemnity of the brothers and sisters of our former faith – and we are left, ourselves, to recollect how differently Easter was celebrated in our home towns years ago.

Growing up Catholic, we performed ritual self-abnegation every Lent, prayed the Stations of the Cross and went to Church on Easter Sunday, but all that seemed just a prelude to the true celebration as it existed in Los Estados. By which, of course, we mean that after a gorging brunch, we’d go out to hunt for eggs in the back yard that had been steathfully hidden by a magical giant rabbit.

The more we reflect on the Easter Bunny, the more we think that whomever came up with the idea was brilliant. The Easter Bunny is, somehow, a beautiful link between the surreality of human existence and the surreality of the promised eternal life of Christianity. It is a very subconscious part of so many children’s spiritual and philosophical education. The Bunny is a grand icon that imprints upon the mind of the child that life is often utterly absurd and freakish, that it doles out rewards unjustly and unevenly, and that, maybe, you should get ready to be sold a smiling and artificially sweetened  bill of goods for the rest of your life. Yet, if you believe hard enough, then maybe you’ll be able to eke out a reward of unwarranted sweetness at least once a year, when the days turn magical.

We’ve long since found that the tasty treats of Easters past no longer bring joy. Chocolate is for children and for trying to paste over your indiscretions with your loving, and tolerant, partner in crimes of the flesh. These days we’re more given to spending the Holy Week in dark bars with sexy bartenders who bring us booze with a disinterested smile, and we encourage you all – whatever your faith – to come on down and join us at Café No Sé for some absolution in alcoholic ablution. While we can’t promise Peace on Earth or Good Will to Men, we do know that it is possible to drink enough to hallucinate into existence Giant Rabbits (one named Harvey keeps making the rounds) and maybe even find an night or two of salvation.

With that, we wish you all a spiritually purifying Semana Santa, an ecstatic Easter and a terrific transubstantiation with whichever libations you prefer. Make ours a mezcal.

JPR and MJT

Cobbling together La Cuadra has always been

We begin the process in hermetically sealed rooms, insulated from the outside world, with the loftiest ambitions dancing through our brains and egos. Think Marcel Proust searching for le mot juste, that absolutely perfect word placed elegantly in a sentence to create multiple levels of meaning, euphoria, assonance and alliteration. That is us at the outset.

But, of course, we complete every issue like college students writing an overdue thesis for which they have neither done the research, nor opened the books. Think gallons of coffee, liters of beer and NoDoz caps washed down with Jack and NyQuil chasers.

We moan, we wail. Meaningless and muddied sentences fly like errant gas from our fingers, we scratch at nonexistent wounds until they bleed. Pages are set afire, we doubt everything: our own pitiful existences, the futility of any and all action… The cigarettes in the ashtrays pile higher and inevitably we look longingly at the razor blade on the table, (why is that blade there in the first place?) and contemplate it drawing a crimson line on our pallid wrists.

Then, somehow, the Gods have mercy. One descends from the heavens at the moment of ultimate desperation, and while we are passed-out in heaps of hopelessness, She (our Gods are Goddesses) rearranges this mess in some semblance of coherence and puts a few of the commas and periods in the correct places. Viola, La Cuadra. Offensive, entertaining, scatological, illuminatingly brilliant with, of course, the occasional nipple shot.

Now take that image and multiply it by 666, divide by the square root of π and carry your answer out to the 10th decimal.  That’s what it was like getting out THIS issue.

Why? Well, the “brains” of the operation headed back north for some much needed low-rent rehab with the family after the accumulated stresses of life in the tropics and issues back home led him to temporarily relocate to a barstool on the Lower East Side of Manhattan for some R & R.

Meanwhile, yours truly was also spending his time in NY, drinking a mixture of absinthe and mezcal, passing out on blue couches (that miraculously materialized before his nightly collapse) dreaming of hippos, dwarves and magic crystals. That much, and little more, I remember.

The trip to NY was made to arrange the importation of Café No Sé’s favorite elixir, Ilegal-Mezcal. That mission has somehow been accomplished, and the end of October will see Ilegal-Mezcal on bar shelves throughout Manhattan. The task was not easy, but surely noble, and one giant step toward our goal of well lubricated reverse imperialism.  If you stop by the gray metropolis, be sure to hit Mayahuel Tequila and Mezcal Bar on East 6th Street.  Accomplished vixen (and No Sé veteran) Ivy Mix has a gig there serving our booze.

But back to La Cuadra. The goddesses have been extra generous due to our trying circumstances. La Cuadra, Issue 6 of Volume III, is another diamond, In this issue Kevin Petrie returns to again take us into his sordid life and make us glad that we are not him, nor any of his exes. If you like stories that turn out horribly wrong, you’ll love this one. Remember the song, One Night in Bangkok Makes A Hard Man Humble? It did something even worse to Kevin.

Mike Tallon also gives us a thoughtful analysis of the Honduran Coup, stripping away the normal blather of Left vs Right. He also covers La Tortilla, a collective of local musicians who have recently produced a brilliant CD.

Miles Afuera also returns with some sordid recollections of the old 42nd St., and Mike’s dad, Jim, once again bringing his wisdom to bear, this time on the current health care debate in Washington. This issue is a hit.

Mezcal, Absinthe, Magic Crystals   and a Blue Couch are calling my name. Hope you enjoy reading as much as we have enjoyed writing. Razor blades furnished upon request.                   JPR

It’s hard to take in this much bizarre news.  Really, if these event are just the teaser roll for what awaits us in 2012, we are thrilled that we have such good seats for the end of the world. We say, “Bring on the C.H.U.D.S. and the Zombies! May the dead rise from their graves and give us all a big belly laugh as the universe pitches further off its axis!” This is going to be fun. What’s next? Who knows, but we are heartily rooting for a Michele Obama / Michael J. Fox sex scandal – with hand held shaky-cam for that Reality TV, cinéma-vérité feel, or maybe an honest to God golpe estado here in Guatemala, conducted by members of the ultra-secretive Payaso Puro faction in the military. (Don’t worry, their guns only fire flowers and they’re easy to spot – just watch out for the giant orange boots and the big rubber noses.)

And as we face this wave of cresting insanity of our world, La Cuadra feels we can finally and officially announce our arrival on the world stage,  just in time to mock the final collapse into madness and absurdity that seems to be engulfing our fair blue planet.

We feel this for two reasons:

First, even as you read these words, they are being beamed around the world via the interwebs. Yes, www.lacaudraonline.com is finally up and running. Now all your friends back home can find out what the fuss is about by going online and accessing our fully archived and brilliantly presented webpage. We’re trying to figure out how to get La Cuadra to show up when someone types tranny crack whore into google. No success, yet.

Second, on a recent trip to Earth Lodge we discovered that La Cuadra had made it to the top of the magazine pile in their world famous outhouse! Yes! Forget all the Pulitzers we’ve won (zero), forget all the critical praise we’ve received in the pages of the New York Times (none), forget even the viral buzz we’ve created with our gorgeous on line presence (minimal).

We are now the choice reading material in Bri and Drew’s long drop toilet! That, friends, is what we’ve been aiming for all these years (see  photo above). Though, strangely, when we made this discovery we noticed that several pages were inexplicably torn out. But in a world of such waxing insanity, we didn’t bother trying to figure out what that meant. We’re assuming someone must have really liked our wit. In fact, we’re pretty sure we heard a guest saying something to that effect later that evening. It was whispered across the room in a hushed voice, but it sounded like, “Those guys who make La Cuadra are totally full of wit. “

And so, we invite all our readers to take a deep breath and enjoy yet another installation of “our wit.”

MJT and JPR

Excuse us while we cough. Kkkkka… We just got back from Tulum and have raging fevers.

Our sources tell us that the epidemic was funded by (and is part and pork-cel) of a larger, bipartisan conspiracy to divert the world’s attention from the widening and deepening financial crisis, the dire defects of Global Warming, and a little quagmire or two in the Muslim Majority parts of el Mapa del Mundo.

Really, what is more frightening? Dealing with terrorism or fighting a GLOBAL PANDEMIC? At the same time, we do expect that the epidemic, we mean PANDEMIC, will play into those snorting for stronger and crueler immigration laws (complete with a big-assed wall to keep the swiney beaners on their side of the Rio) and an asinine plan to gut whatever is left of the American public health system, because, hey, the government should just get out of the way and let free market biology kill all the poor folk, anyway!

Lovely… and now to all with those sentiments, go die on a spit.

The Centers for Disease Control and the World Health Organization have said that the best way to avoid contracting the disease is to not shake hands, kiss, or to engage in any carnal activity with pigs, the piglike creatures of Dr. Moreau’s Island, or anyone with a predilection for swine love.

In other words, you are being advised to avoid contact with folks who might recently have passed through the decadent doorway of Café No Sé, where over consumption has oft-times led to odd, though highly entertaining, inter-species couplings. On the downside, this means that our conchinita pibil is from dubious sources at best. On the upside, we’re pretty sure that a bottle of Ilegal Mezcal is worth its weight in Tamiflu doses. And the buzz is better, too.

Further, it is advised that if you do join us down at the bar, you should wear a surgeon’s mask to avoid airborne contagion, and as an extra precaution, you might want to consider strapping duct tape over your private parts, both fore and aft, as several of the No Sé bartenders have recently been jettisoned by their girlfriends and have been behaving indiscriminately and without gender bias. “We take all comers,” one of them recently, and lamely, joked.

Special warning, if one of them asks you to depart for the night to engage in the “double hogbacked growler,” your answer should be a firm “NO” unless he has bought you several shots, and you’ve had all of yours.

As if trouble with swine is not enough, you will find in this issue the theme of man vs. animal further explored in blood-poisoning depth by none other than The Surly Bartender, who gives us an interesting argument on why cats SUCK! And Kevin Petrie, the man behind our mezcal bar, who brings us the culinary secrets for cooking Squab de la Calle. Buen Provecho!

Lastly, on a serious note… Oink, cough, cough, cough, oink, arrrrrrrgggghhhhh…

Your Dearly Departed Editors

JPR and MJT

When most people say this they are talking both out of their own asses and in their own interests, but we mean it this time.

We remember hearing this line shouted from every television for months after September 2001. We lived in New York City then and took the thickest part of that bat to the backs of our heads, but Al Queda didn’t then, and doesn’t now, pose a threat to our “way of life.” They threaten our buildings, they threaten our peace of mind, they even threaten our lives – but not our “way of life.” The real threats to a “way of life” always come in silently and are coded in the language of beneficence.

Our way of life, well annunciated by philosophers like Locke, Jefferson, Galeano and Dylan, understands that freedom and liberty should trump fundamentalisms of any stripe. We tolerate any hairbrained mythologies and mad-hatted ideas that exist amongst our fellow travelers – so long as they don’t try and foist them upon others. That is, by definition, our “way of life” and it seems that every time it is threatened, it is threatened from within.

The threats generally come from folks who got religion of one sort or another and attained enough fiscal or electoral strength to decide that they can tell the philistines how to behave. They become so happy with their own self-deceptions, or terrified by their own boogymen, that they feel the need to force-feed us the “good news.” These are the true terrorists who must be pushed back into their caves. These are the lamebrains who threaten our civilization, and finally, those forces have found us here in Guatemala.

This time the evangelists are coming in the form of health zealots who have decided that, here too, smokers should be pilloried and spanked in the town square. Smokers, those evil creatures of the night, should be taught a lesson. Writ short, the powers that be have chosen to ban puffing in pubs.

That’s cool for gyms, office buildings, museums, even hospitals – but no smoking in bars? Come on!

When have you ever gone to a bar for your health? Going to a bar, getting soused and lighting up, is a personal decision to aid the spirit through mortification of the flesh. Bars exist as temples that allow us access to that primal, reptilian, irrational brain that knows certain truths – like, Hitler Bad / Gandhi Good. Like Closeness to Amigos, Good / Proximity to Douchebags, Bad. During the daytime, with our forebrains running the show rationality and good decisions allow us to abide idiots who say shit like, “Well, dogs liked Hitler.” Or, “Look, the guy’s a complete douchebag, but I’ve gotta work with him so I may as well learn to live with it.”

That stuff is fine for working hours, when sobriety and propriety are the rules by which we live, but at night – in a bar – with a smoke in one hand and a beer in the other – we can finally let all that right thinking fall away like unwanted pants in a brothel – and the last thing we need is some pious do-gooders invading our sacred space of debauchery.

And, really, all the arguments against smoking in bars are hollow. Sure, you’ll hear a fatuous non-smoker bellowing away with his fresh, pink lungs that this is all about protecting the workers and reducing the dangers of second hand smoke. But that’s bullshit, really. Any politician in this country who really gave a rat’s ass about worker safety or pollution could save more lives by regulating the chicken-bus industry. Just one of those crazy bastards driving a camioneta horks out more carbon monoxide and threatens more lives in a day that I could in a lifetime of non-stop, Olympic caliber, chain smoking in a nursery.

Be honest, you puritanical non-smokers, this has no more to do with saving lives than it does with flying to the moon on a broomstick. It’s really about you not liking smoke and not wanting your sweater to be stinky the next morning.

And, if you want to make the argument that the majority of us like it this way, then just once, find yourself in a bar when the secret smoking lamp is lit after the doors are closed. Watch with revelation as 90% of the customers spark up at the same time.

This is just dreadful. This creeping piety in the public sphere is, and I’ll say it again, a fundamental threat to our way of LIFE. And, once again, it’s coming from the inside and it’s wearing a grin. It’s coming from people who think they know how to live your life better than you do. They don’t. Light up and shine bright.

MJT and JPR

Ain’t he cute? Just look at his “shoe-of-infinite-insult” and that widdle gap between his two front teefs. He’s so cuddly we could almost forget the past eight years of geo-political assholery perpetrated by Mr. Bush and his ideological coterie. Almost.

But then we remember just how badly the shoe-target-in-chief has screwed up the world. Two wars, hundreds of thousands dead, millions in exile, Lord knows how many American soldiers with PTSD or missing limbs, a nation’s soul smeared with the excreta of a Cheney befouled torture chamber, a 200-year-old Constitutional government finally tamed and gelded, a rising tide of home foreclosures, the global financial system rapidly passing from lividity to rigor mortis, and the distinct possibility of our planet falling into the black holes of either a Great Depression, 2.0, or catastrophic climate change.

Or both!

It’s truly remarkable. In eight years (in under 3000 days!) the Bush presidency has succeeded in doing what 140 years of European Imperialism, 70 years of Soviet Communism and 30 years of Radical Islamic Fundamentalism could not. He actually broke America.

Ceteris Paribus, that fool deserves a lot more than a boot to the head.

But back to iconic shoe tosser from Baghdad. We’re with him in spirit because it is well beyond the time when people in the news business (which, in some deeply twisted, but important way, we are) should politely and obsequiously whisper suggestions of truth to power. That train left the station the same day America launched a preemptory war on trumped up evidence. Said otherwise, and demonstrated with both wind-up and follow through by Mr. al Zeidi, stop giving these fools your respect. Rome is burning. Your house is on fire. Should you really be kissing the ass of the guy holding the gas can and the match? Fuck no. You should huck a shoe at him. Metaphorically, of course.

In that spirit the La Cuadra of 2009 will continue to bring – along with the satire and the silliness – stories, columns and essays that aim true and hit hard on issues of importance to the region and the world. After networking with some old friends (special thanks to Monica and Earl, beers on us) we’ve managed to bring some incredible writers into the stable. This issue features the voice of John Ross, one of the lions of the Left in Latin American journalism for more than 50 years. John’s got a killer story about the insanely violent drug war in Mexico and the corruption that is providing its fuel. We’ve also landed Joe Bageant, the author of the best seller,  Deer Hunting With Jesus: Dispatches From America’s Class War, for a darkly humorous look at global overpopulation and the damage caused by rampant consumerism in the First World. On top of that, we are featuring a powerful story by Barbara Rose Johnston that takes aim at some perpetrators of the genocide that devastated large swaths of the Mayan population  during Guatemala’s Civil War.

Rest assured, there’s a ton of fun in the pages, too. Maybe there’s even a bit of truth of beauty and light. But, still, overall, we think Muntadar al-Zeidi would be proud. Peace.

Mike and John

Merry Something-or-Other and a Happy God-Knows

Of course, we’re doing that in our own inimitable style – with a surfeit of uplifting stories on subjects such as Cyanide Poisoning in the Western Highlands of Guatemala, an Attempted Right Wing Coup in Bolivia, and the Coming Complete and Total Collapse of the Global Economy! And if those gems don’t get your Ho-Ho’er, Ho-Ho’ing, then we’ve also got a few stocking stuffers on bank robbery, drug abuse, thievery, improper disposal of a body and abortion. Which, of course, begs the Christmas question: What the hell is wrong with us?

A complete and truthful answer would take up far more space than is allowed – and would likely land us in jail. So, let’s just blame it on booze and a case of intra-cranial black mold brought about by an exceedingly long rainy season.

But all is not bleak by any means. As we write, the sun is shining brightly, blithe and beautiful travelers are skipping along the cobblestones, intoxicated by the views, the colors and the magic of Antigua.

And most happily, Barack Hussein Obama is the President Elect of the United States, allowing the entire planet to feel the almost indescribable relief of finally having passed a melon-sized kidney stone. Bringing almost as much joy, the Pitbull in Lipstick (Bless Her Heart) has been shipped back up north to shiver, wait for the Rapture and wonder why God didn’t reward her with the Vice Presidency? (Hey Sarah, want a hint? It’s because you’re an asshole and God is not.)

To those happy results La Cuadra sings a glorious Hal-le-fuckin’-lelujah!

On the local good news front, El Colectivo Garifuna & Umalali will be performing a concert in Antigua on November 22. For those of you who do not know this amazing Belizean group, they won the World Music Expo Award in 2007, the BBC World Music Award in 2008, and their album, Watina, was acclaimed one of the best world music releases in the past decade.

The concert, being put on by our great friends at Planeta en Ritmo, is a tribute to Andy Palacio, former Colectivo frontman, who died earlier this year. In keeping with Andy’s demand that success should always support local traditions and cultures, the concert will raise funds for Niños de Guatemala, a local NGO that is opening a school in Ciudad Vieja in January.

It’s going to be one hell of a party. Bring your dancing feet and your drinking shoes. Tickets are going fast. Get yours at Café No Sé, Y Tu Piña También, Reilly’s Irish Tavern, El Pelicano Dorado, Mono Loco, Chill Out, La Sala or Kafka.

Our resolutions for 2009 will include letting the light shine a bit more brightly through our surly windows – but for those of you have come to count on us for a bi-monthly, bi-polar dose of madness, worry not, we’ll still find something to snarl about. So, Happy Holidaze and we’ll see you soon at Café No Sé.

Yo Ho!

Finally (and seriously) we’d like to extend love, support and prayers to our friends in San Pedro la Laguna who recently lost a loved member of their own orphans’ family. Our thoughts are with you and our bottles are raised.

John and Mike

]]> http://www.lacuadraonline.com/letters-from-the-editors/letter-from-the-editors-%e2%80%93-november-december-2008/feed/ 0 http://www.lacuadraonline.com/letters-from-the-editors/letter-from-the-editors-september-october-2008/ http://www.lacuadraonline.com/letters-from-the-editors/letter-from-the-editors-september-october-2008/#comments Sat, 20 Sep 2008 03:57:24 +0000 Michael Tallon http://www.lacuadraonline.com/?p=611

This letter is addressed to those of you who have just arrived in town and find yourselves wandering through the streets of Antigua, as if in a daze, stunned by the beauty of the city, the valley, the volcanoes, the architecture, the bars. It’s a letter to those of you who are in your first few weeks of language school or just beginning your volunteer work. It’s a letter to those of you who are just breaking out of your Lonely Planet prison cell and exploring the world on your own. It’s a letter to those of you still innocent enough to believe that a few salsa lessons will allow you to overcome your innate, inbred and eternal lack of rhythm. At least that’s how it was for me.

It’s a letter to you because I remember those first few weeks in Antigua – exactly four years ago this month – and  I remember that taunting, echoing thought to make sudden changes to my travel plans and decide to stick around for a while. And I remember the other dense and deeper thought – to bag it all, to tell the boss to pound sand and to take the leap: to ex-patriate.

And I remember the moment when I finally decided to do it.

John and I were on a run up to Oaxaca to steward a few thousand liters of Ilegal Mezcal across the border, back to Antigua and into the safety of Café No Sé. We’d been on the road a few days and we were on our way home. It was 8:45 on a Tuesday night. We were half an hour north of the Guatemalan – Mexican border at Tapachula in the bed of a pick- up truck being driven by a deeply crazy mezcalera on a dark, dirt road, flying hell bent for leather at about 80 miles and hour surrounded by glass.

Orion was due south, with a full moon above. We’d been loading and unloading cases of mezcal in the heat throughout the day – but the night had a chill, so we’d cracked a bottle and were trying to fend off the wind with a few ratty old coffee bags.

As our driver skidded around a corner the bottles rattled across the floor. I turned to John and said, “We’re both in our 40s. We both had successful careers in New York City. We’re both pretty smart guys…”

The tires skittered as the driver swerved sharply to avoid a hallucinatory fever dream and clipped the ruts on the side of the road. We bounced – the bottles, the crates, the driver, and us – a few inches in the air then crashed back down hard as the truck accelerated once again.

John passed me the bottle and finished the thought.

“And now we’re barreling down a dirt road in Mexico, heading for the border and hoping to hell we make it home alive”

“Yup.” I said. “Feels like I’ve finally done something right with my life.”

And that was that. Four years in and the trip is still a blast. So, to you, the one who is wandering and wondering if its really necessary to go home I offer the unsolicited advice – give it a shot, there’s room in the pick-up and the moon is still high. Jump in.

]]> http://www.lacuadraonline.com/letters-from-the-editors/letter-from-the-editors-september-october-2008/feed/ 0 http://www.lacuadraonline.com/letters-from-the-editors/letter-from-the-editors-july-august-2009/ http://www.lacuadraonline.com/letters-from-the-editors/letter-from-the-editors-july-august-2009/#comments Mon, 28 Jul 2008 01:45:13 +0000 Michael Tallon http://www.lacuadraonline.com/?p=788 As Midsummer’s Night is near in the rearview mirror it might be appropriate to quote the Bard’s best farce. “If we offend it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, but with good will, to show our simple skill. That is the true beginning of our end.”

I bring this up as we did offend a few of our readers with the last issue. One is a dear friend and through no bad intent, we caught him out by mentioning his name and making some poorly considered sport. This made him question our loyalty and love, both of which are strong and true. Herewith is a sincere apology. Friends are few enough in this world; we should learn to be more careful with ours.

The other guy we offended we don’t really care about. John will be addressing his issues in a few pages.

As a result, we have decided to dilute the vibrant power of our offense by offending more liberally – offending entire groups of people at the same time, rather than mere individuals – our primary targets will be fools, boneheads, fake hippies, zealots and religious  folk who have traded in their sense of humor for scornful looks and wagging fingers. But, in order to keep our skills sharp, John and I have agreed to offend each other, personally, at least once daily.

So, without further ado, “John, your mamma so fat she wears an asteroid belt.”  Your turn.

ow on to the fun stuff. Our regular readers might recall that I recently joked about some big shot producers coming to town to film a story about us. Well, it appears that life is once again imitating art. Filming HAS started in Café No Sé and some big shot producers HAVE been floating a number of pretty cool ideas over the bar. I’ll explain.

In late June a local film maker began a project at the Café. He’s following the rules established in the Dogma 95 school. We’ve only requested that he add a Vow of Inebriation to the cannon and he said he was pretty sure that von Trier wouldn’t mind. Now, if you got the artsy references in the last few sentences, then you’ll probably be excited to hear that there’s an independent film school in the works around town. Come on down to the Café and help us spread some high-minded rumors about it!

And if you want a really good rumor to spread around town, then try this one of for size – we’ve been doing background work with some producers from the States to bring a World Music scene to our adoptive home town. We’re hoping to organize a major festival in Guatemala sometime early next year. We’re starting small, bringing acts to local venues like Café No Sé and La Sala over the coming months, and then expecting everything to careen wildly out of control by the end of 2008, culminating in a major blow-out sometime around February 2009. We’ll keep you posted, but just to whet your appetite, here are some of the names that have been seriously discussed: Oliver Mtukudzi from Zimbabwe, Plena Libre from Puerto Rico, Midnite from St. Croix, and a Tribute to Andy Palacio from Belize. Also, we think we’re close to landing a few prominent members of the Marley family from, of course, Jamaica.

Pulling this off will require a fair amount of nervous tension, a ton of hard work, and maybe a drop or two of aceite verde. We’ve got that end covered. Where you come in is generating excitement about the whole shebang. So, get out there, loosen up your lips with a few libations and get the town talking. If anyone tells you you’re full of shit, blame it on us. We won’t be offended.

On another, more serious note, we’d like to give a special thanks to the governor and the mayor for their recent security initiatives. We applaud the Plan Cuadrante.

MJT

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Sure, we hoped La Cuadra would be a success…

“La Cuadra – Origins” begins filming on location, in Antigua, later this month.  The bloke on the left, a young and upcoming Australian heart-throb, will be playing “The Bossman,” impassioned and unconquerable dipsomaniac from New York City who’d seen enough of corporate life and struck out to define his own vision, always knowing that one day he would return.  The tall gentleman on the right will be playing “The Bossman’s” partner, “Big Livered Mike” – the roguishly handsome but tragically flawed poet with a weakness for tequila and hot German girls.

Together, and with a crew of roustabouts, tramps, dreamers, schemers and sages who make Antigua and Café No Sé their home, they hatch a plan to reintroduce the world to the virtues of guerrilla journalism, burlesque shows, great booze and the power of a well raised middle finger.

It’s a buddy movie with an wry and satyrical bent and according to some insiders, it is favored to take the Golden Palm at Cannes in 2008 – though doing so will likely involve contracting the services of Earl – our safe cracking friend.  (To read more about Earl, check out the interview with music legend, Willie Murphy on p. 33)

Stay tuned for further updates about filming, and if you’re interested in being an extra in the movie, then drop on by Café No Sé and we’ll have a chat.  Priority will be given to girls with great curves, low morals and drinking problems – or to guys with eye patches and valuable skills learned aboard pirate ships.

And if you believe any of this crap, we’d like to introduce you to our advertisers, because it seems that you will buy anything.

While signing away any movie rights may still be a pipe dream, La Cuadra is definitely moving forward.  Just feel the slick new paper between your fingers and marvel at how much better the ads look!  Then, RIGHT NOW! turn IMMEDIATELY! to the center section of the magazine to find our removable Map and Guide to the Other Side of Antigua, The Insider.

There are a hell of a lot of bars, restaurants, night clubs and cultural events going on in our little 10 x 10 city, but it takes an Insider to really know where to go – and if you dig this magazine and you trust our voice, we think you’ll find our recommendations for celebrating the town right on the money.  Who knows, if you dig it enough, we might even recruit you into this army of fools.

Then again, if guerrilla journalism, great booze, curvy women, pirates or well raised middle fingers aren’t your thing, we’ll still be glad to wave to you as you pass on by.  Movie deal or not, we’ve got the life down here.

MJT and JPR