The Exit
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Composite blog consisting of notes, reflections, weird jokes, trip reports and amusing stories from the death row; some personal, some told and some fabricated, I have to reckon!
BEWARE!! This is neither a porno nor a politically correct site... more probably is a highly misanthropic and overtly cynical terminal account
Ridendo castigat mores, that I freely translate as ”humor improves behavior” , not that I believe, but it sounds nice!
From The Death Row
Danarel, the Conjurer and the King Stork
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Some who may receive a copy of this letter don’t know who is Danarel. Discreetly, I inform everybody that he is my guardian angel. When it was more or less clear that I should come into being, my mother, the CONJURER, who was also a first rung ESPER (extra sensory perception), a TRUE BELIEVER, and THE LEADER OF THE PEOPLE, did something that had zero chances to succeed. She was desperate. She knew that age and situation, the Second World War was on the way, would not allow her to have more than one child. She also sensates that the package coming, me, will be a quite violent guy, not very easy to raise. Also, she felt that things may go from bad to worse. They did, the Nazis left so to say but the Communist regime that came after was no less ferocious.
Tel Gezer, a proto-Zionist invasion of Palestine?***
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Dear Danarel,
I just don’t know where and how to shelve this story: a parody, an allegory, a phantasmagoria or an anamorphism, you know this kind of image that becomes visible only if seen under a certain angle. But it traveled so much and so long between the Imperator and myself that I had time to forget both genre and intention, so please, – take it as it is. Underneath it comes a clip representative of the torments and the delights of an art lover through a pleasant combination of anamorphic distortions, visual illusion subtleties, a strong streak of black humor, and (alas) some offensive religious hints: https://on-death-row.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/Anamorphic-Illusion.mp4
My son, a distinguished Apple corporation soldier, came for a vacation in fatherland or motherland, it depends of who speaks the speech, together with family. Despite his drift during the last years into other lanes and horizons his attaches to origins are still strong and often funny. They lead sometimes to an uncontrolled 
preparation of hummus with tahini that may accommodate a glorious team of construction workers. Do you know many people, exempt of little, partially inoffensive, manias?
Eager to provide some food for soul, even if according to Yuval Harari’s sharp thinking, this last commodity does not really exist, I volunteered to guide the party, three children, two parents and an old man, that being me, at two of the most enticing spots of the entity known today as Israel. These were the arched pool of Ramla commissioned by the legendary Abbasid Calif Haroun al Rashid (one the famous heroes of the Arabian Nights) in 789 and the archaeological site of the Canaanite town at Tel Gezer.
On the tracks of Colombo, the world’s most famous pigeon, part two
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Redeemed by art and nature,
Punta Cana day two
Dear Danarel,
In the evening of the first day, after I understood from the moto 
concho, who rents his back seat for a fair price that the first open air market is 40 km away, I grumblingly condescended to go to a 4 km far supermarket. I hated the place. Supermarkets smell! I got there some medium quality cheese and mediocre cold cuts but the fruits were as fine as they come. Among them I had the inestimable passion fruit (that I knew and ecstatically enjoyed in many places and under many names as passiflora, chinola, le fruit de la passion, granadilla and maracuya). Add to that a bottle of rum.
On the tracks of Colombo, the world’s most famous pigeon, part three and last
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Santo Domingo, the Nymphs of the Botanical Garden
Dear Danarel
I feel that I cannot continue like this. Surreptitiously I sled into fantasy, Baedeker’s type inutile tips, fairy-tales, podcast cheap history courses, supermarket politics, crowd psychology, and unnecessary artist twiddling. The main issue and the raison d’être of my unremitting addiction to this blog is DEATH. Death is the major determinant of our life, brutally or softly harrowing our destiny from even
DEATH IN VENICE, part one
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FLASHBACK
Dear Danarel,
There is no need to emphasize that people aren’t dying in Venice more than in any other place. It is dangerous to be outspoken today but Venice people are dying infinitely less than people of similar size Mexican towns where they can enjoy, wrapped in plastic bags, outstanding mass graves. So, why death in Venice? Firstly, because it is a coined term (Thomas Mann pedophile courtesy), and these kinds of short mental formulas always strike a chord. Here chord means a lot. Venice was a big string music producer and consumer, Vivaldi and Albinoni were born here to name only two giants while Boccherini was giving me yesterday paradise with the guitar concertos played by Pepe Romero’s fandango quintet. But I lost the track, let’s go back…So, secondly, because Venice is a kind of a corpse…The Exquisite Corpse…It is the shell of what it was…
DEATH IN VENICE, part two
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STILL LIFE
Dear Danarel,
There is nothing more to be said that was not better said before but I built a cunning battle plan…I will go to NOWHERE! I will not walk in any contraption – church, theatre, famous villa, chapels desacralized into concert halls, museums, palaces, or striptease shows. I will even shun the theater crush helmet translating in one’s most atonal idiom the beautiful vernacular. I will stroll on the streets, slide along the canals, cross the bridges, circle the wells, emerge into piazzas, ramble along the shore (lungomare), step on quays like an owner, take some Vaporetto rides rarely, and take some notes. I will photograph façades and walking bodies, ignoring who they are and where I am. I will move like a ghost. Here we are. The town itself is an activated churchyard with ghosts at will.
Le mystère végétal de Santa Clara, Cal. III
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3eme episode
Des nouveaux rebondissements ou la critique de la méthode intuitive…
Le moment est venu de dévoiler que cette facétie bénévole ayant a l’origine une modeste démarche de taxonomie arboricole, contient un second acteur personnage, non moins beau, mystérieux ou exotique que le touffu premier violon ayant reçu le préfixe aujourd’hui sanctifie d’AFRO, dans le complet d’Afrocarpus Gracilior… Mais ne nous sommes pas tous d’origine africaine ? Enfin pour y rester dans les bois, ce deuxième violon est un magnifique spécimen de haute taille, tronc rouge et puissant, creusé par des profondes rides, a couronne dominante et feuillage abondant a plusieurs reflets. Quoique dans l’espace publique, pendant que le Gracilior fait anoblir ma gite, le second larron lui donne parfaitement la réplique. de l’autre côté de la rue.
Le mystère végétal de Santa Clara, Cal. II
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2ème épisode
La moitié de l’énigme résolue…
ou la théorie de l’Arbuste et le retour de la Courbe
Eh bien, chers amis et néanmoins curieux, il faut se dire que les grandes vérités sont d’une simplicité déroutante, autrement dit – assez difficiles à intégrer, avaler, assimiler, faire siennes. De telle façon que les âmes bien nées doivent comprendre mon appréhension, quasi-viscérale, de prêter une attention soutenue aux borborygmes, à mon premier avis et correspondant à ma nature suspicieuse, de mon cher et vieux, sidekick (pote) M.I. qui affubla le majestueux et triomphant végétal, illustré par mes 
soins, du qualificatif ARBUSTE. J’ai reçu cet effort de rudimentaire taxonomie, comme une crasse injustice, criante au ciel, à mon adresse et surtout à l’adresse d’un ARBRE phénoménal qui n’était pas loin de soutenir, soyons honnêtes, une bonne partie de la voûte céleste. Sacré pilier ligneux qui dans toute autre période que ce