Today is Independence Day in Colombia. No big deal, really; no fireworks, no general jubilation, just a few military parades, and that’s about it.

Of course an Independence Day for a country that is essentially a regional puppet for the US government is never going to really fly. Independence? What independence? All the orders that matter come from the US embassy complex. Government Palace is just a proxy.

Here in Cali the celebrations will be marked by the replacement of the water mains. Yes, for 48 hours, starting last night, 80% of households in this city of several million will be without running water until Saturday night at midnight. At least it’s for a good cause — the mains have to be replaced to finish construction of the new electric trole bus system, which should go a long way toward preventing Lima-like pollution in the future.

Some things you can only see in Colombia. There I was, walking to the supermarket yesterday, when I came across a small, blocked off street with men and women practicing marching. They were four wide and six deep and a man in front carried a white flag held forward at a 45 degree angle.

Walking past I got a good side view of the four women in the bunch. Groowr. Stiff-backed, head high and chest out, oh so chest out, they were all short and skinny and fake titties out to here to keep them afloat when the Titanic goes down.

Only in Colombia.

Update: The Colombian Air Force made a big showing last Friday, demonstrating the very latest in military technology.

Where’s the Black Sheep Squadron when you really need them?

Thanks to Danny Hancock for the photo.

Several weeks ago an important anniversary passed without comment. It deserves a few words.

July 3, Independence Day. Or should I say “Freedom From America Day”. This past Third of July marked the eighth anniversary of my escape from America. Yup, eight years ago, on July 3, 1999, I got on a plane leaving the United States of America and I have never been back since. Not even once.

The current plan is to extend that streak to ten years, ten delightful, wonderful years out of the dreaded slave yoke of America life.

And to the rest of you fuckers stuck under Uncle Sam’s thumb? Get the fuck out while you still can.