The police have left town and the revolutionary teachers (beardos with baseball bats trying to blackmail the administration into giving them cushy jobs) have hung up great big portraits of Marx, Engels, Lenin and Stalin, along with placards calling the governor a murderer, and they’re breaking up folk dancing in the barrios and intimidating the god-fearing, but apart from that it’s tequila as usual. Don’t anyone try to come between me and my tequila.
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