During the early 90’s I lived in Costa Rica with the intention to grow back pepper on a snake farm (as the Simonettes are sure to already know), but on most Sundays “Crazy Tim” of homebuilt jaccuzi fame and I used to go white water kayaking. It was a spectacular couple or three hour experience of ‘paddle or die’ from La Virgen Sarrapaqui (sp.? in case you want to ask Mr. Google) to Puerto Viejo.

At the end of our run was a bar, go figure, overlooking the river. We’d build up some speed and ‘coast’ up onto the riverbank making a dramatic entrance then pop out of our kayaks and into the bar for some rum and salsa (the dance not the stuff dip onto your tortilla chips you ignorant rednecks and hillbillies).

To make my long story endless: I’m sitting at the bar on one of these occasions…

Have been wondering for the longest time why more Christian conservatives don’t pull their kids out of public schools and join the home schooling movement? Recent encounters with high school and college students have reconfirmed my belief that the public education system is irreparable, and the only viable option is to opt out completely. Imagine the shock to the public education system if the children of millions of conservatives began to home school instead of continuing their indoctrination.

Doesn’t the public school undermine efforts to raise your children with Christian values? How can Christians expect children to remain strong in faith and retain conservative values when attending church for only a couple of hours per week and discussing maybe 1-2 hours of family values at the dinner table every night? Compare that to seven hours a day, five days a week of indoctrination and hormones gone wild at school, added…

I’ve been asked by a gentle reader to write something more cheery about my adventures in Costa Rica that do not involve killing snakes or slaying señoritas. Hope you will find this uplifting. What was that again about mad dogs and Englishmen in the midday sun?

I’m dizzy again and on the verge of heat stroke wondering how quickly I’ll react to the next snake attack. We’re standing around the back of my truck taking a water break and trying to get some shade from the unrelenting tropical sun when the youngest of the crew, Pablo, (15 years old and the only one still single) bolts into the rows of young pepper plants that are just learning to attach themselves to and climb up their live posts. Black pepper plants are vines, and in order to get any significant production out of them you’ve got to get them off of…