The Game Plan

football game plan

After following the deeply-disturbing US news all week, my wife and I definitely do not want to live in a country that’s consumed by an Orange Pig 24 x 7 who is supported by a cadre of malfeasant legislators and judges on greed crack.

It is possible that fat-boy Trumpie, his loyal (however many of those there actually are) friends, and (quasi criminal) family are all going to be measured for bespoke orange jump suits at some point, but I choose not to wait around for that blessed event.

The time for me to permanently end this ill-advised 50 year rihla to America, which in effect destroyed our family, is now.

So despite the fact that I would be away from my beloved English Mum (it is thanks to her that I have a UK passport!), the campaign is on for us to permanently move to Tavira in Portugal.

First, obiously, we have to like the place.

So we leave a week from this Monday, and will be in Tavira the night of September 18th.

Our hope is to be able to participate in a meetup that week in Tavira that my wife has heard about through the Americans in the Algarve group on FB.

If we both take an instant like to the place, then the first order of business will be to find a flat to rent.

If we don’t like it there that much, then we’ll return on 15th of October, and keep looking.

Otherwise, the move is on.

Our plan will be to take the complicated but necessary steps to become permanent residents in Portugal.

There are various byzantine rules that you have to follow.

Moreover, there will be two sets of rules:  one for me as EU citizen holding a UK passport, but with ties to the US; the other for my wife, as the holder of US passport.

Without going into to mind-numbing details, the basic game plan will as follows:

  1. find an apartment with a river view for under 1,000 euros a month and lease it for a year
  2. store our stuff there and return empty handed to the US
  3. Commencing on Oct 16th in Florida, we block-and-tackle the time-consuming and intensive paperwork that will allow us to move to Portugal as residents.  These include the following steps:
    1. Getting apostille copies from the Florida DMV of our driving records
    2. Contacting the nearest Portuguese consulate and have issue letters confirming validity the validity of these records and our Florida licenses
    3. Taking care of SS stuff for my wife, such that we have plenty of ordinary (and non taxable in Portugal) income to show the Portuguese  authorities
    4. Get expat insurance while in Portugal, until such time as we become full time residents and can access extremely low cost national health insurance there, which would probably take place a year from now
    5. Make all recurring bills in FLA are paid up through the summer of 2019
  4. Return to Portugal the first week of December.  this time I will enter the country with my UK passport and commence the formal process of applying for residency, under my EU passport.  There will still just enough time to get everything in under the wire before the March 29 Brexit drop dead date for EU citizens with UK passports. After that, my EU passport shall no longer be valid for me to move freely among Schengen countries, due to Brexit, or stay in Portugal longer than 3 months in any 180 day period.
  5.  My wife will return to FLA in mid January , but I will remain in Portugal in the apartment and do what’s needed to get the Portuguese residency, and also start looking for suitable houses in the area that we can afford to buy.
  6.  At some point in early to mid 2019, I will return to the US to help my wife sunset the B&M portion of her retail business, around June.  During the summer of 2019, we put the house in the market.  It is likely to sell under 30 days.  We will then have the nest egg needed to buy a villa in the Algarve, and container ship our belongings to the new house or apartment in Tavira.

That is the game plan in summary form.

Lots of details will go into transforming this vision into a reality, but this map gives us a general game plan to follow.

lennon stamp
Just imagine it

I do not know if the US is going to erupt into a civil war in the months and years ahead.

All I know is that I am tired of dealing with this crap — not just Trump stuff, but everything that came up after 9-11 that exposed the nasty underbelly of America and my own naive ideas about many things, not just relating to the US, but Egypt, and England too for that matter.

That said, it’ll be of passing interest to watch America from the sidelines, as it tries to get rid of a mad proto-fascist president and resolve its many internal contradictions and hangups.

As President Obama said earlier today, these are dangerous times.*

Indeed, Mr. President.

We should appeal our higher selves.  But the darkness of the American soul is vast, and the monstrosity that is the Republican electorate and their overlords unyielding.

I have other sardines to fry before I sleep.

There is a better life to be had elsewhere.

All I have to do is imagine it.


* like a taunting child in grade school, the fat pig immediately described Obama’s unprecedented speech as “boring.”

leaving america

Two Brits Dead at Red Sea Resort

the Coopers, RIP

It’s Saturday.
There is so much to talk about, the mind reels.
Florida hybrid pythons, for example; now it’s not just the creepy old snake neighbor across the street (who refuses to die off, even as he pushes 90, and in fact thrives all the more, if I cast dirty looks his way) that I need to keep an eye on.

Or the Guardian, now casually referring — to paraphrase Eliot Cohen in his new piece in The Atlantic — to the poster incubus of bombastic senility as “an unindicted co-conspirator in a federal crime.”

A falsely buoyant US economy that is a few idiotic tweets away (I’m waiting for the announcement that Trumpo has decided to nuke Iran and North Korea simultaneously, as a distraction, after ordering the FBI to arrest Mueller for sedition) from a major correction that would most likely wipe away any post 2016 gains for retail investors dumb enough to keep riding the bubble.
Meanwhile the pig cuts another $200 million from aid to the Palestinians, as the UK wobbles like a drunken sailor, with a no-deal Brexit looming.
Where even to begin?
I must not drift like a loggerhead in the Jet Stream detritus of bad news, but instead remain true to the noble purpose of this inspiring blog — namely, how a sexagenarian such as myself maintains his sanity, despite a world that’s constantly changing for the worse.
Here’s a completely embarrassing vid by the Rascals, now no longer young, that underscores what I mean.

Let me focus on Egypt, instead, where this time last year, I was two weeks away from spending 7 months in the dust bowl resort town of El Gouna.
Earlier this week, a couple from Lancashire, John Cooper, 69, and his wife, Susan, 64, were vacationing at the Steigenberger (this, or some close variant, seems to be the name of every other fucking hotel along the Red Sea) Aqua Magic Hotel  in Hurghada (the same pitifully Third World town where a naive young UK woman named Laura Plummer was arrested not that long ago and is still languishing in jail, while retiring UK ambassador to Egypt  John Casson idly stood by and did nothing) on the Red Sea died suddenly within hours of each other.
The Egyptian political hack and death-head skirt known as Rania Al-Mashat, who is the country’s American-educated Minister of Tourism, was right quick to determine their death was simply due to “natural causes.”
Natural causes; nothing more.
First the husband croaks, perhaps from monoxide poisoning, then the wife kicks the bucket – within hours of one another. Completely normal, or aa’di, as Egyptians are wont to say about absurdities that are passed on as ordinary events.
Only Natural Causes, according to the slimeball government mouthpiece know as Al-Ahram — the story rapidly being buried, as the hours tick by,
Will this be the death knell of Egypt’s tourist failing industry?

A skirt amidst the suits

I hope so, if that is what it will take to permanently loosen the viselike deathgrip the army has had on Egypt since 1952.
The question is, will the various flacks and TripAdvisor idiots who blithely shill this mosquito-infested coast as some kind of a “Red Sea Riviera” ever develop a conscience or, in the latter’s case, actually know anything real about the country they are so keen on pimping?
Will Karim Benzema, as an act of solidarity, give back the money he was paid to promote Red Sea tourism?
Will Theresa May order the Royal Navy to blockade and shell Hurghada, like the English used to do when Brittania ruled the sea, until Tramadol Laura is freed by her dark captors?

Probably not, particularly as there will always be plenty of low life Russians and Eastern Eurotrash and working class Brits willing to fly to the Red Sea for a song, despite the inherent risks.

Kareem in Hurghada recently, on a promo tour with one of the bogus, pseudo-Westernized swarthy hustlers that are typical of places like Gouna

Meanwhile, many members of the Egyptian diaspora – for example, this PhD. student in Germany – are afraid to return to their own country for fear of being “disappeared” at Cairo airport once they land.
I know the feeling.
Probably 90 per cent of Egyptians (particularly males) under 30 (by my own estimate, and I am never wrong about anything) would be willing to emigrate to Europe at the drop of a hat, if given half a chance.

Peepee Pasha – Source Latuff Cartoons

To top it off, Egypt just passed draconian “cybercrime” legislation (you can read about it here, in Mada Masr, a publication that is blocked inside of Egypt by Sissi’s cowardly and paranoid regime, that, like the Orange Clown’s fecal administration, despises a free press that shines the disinfectant of sunlight on the machinations of corrupt turdballs) that in effect cripples any ability of Egypt’s ordinary citizenry to even sneeze at the presidency of Peepee Pasha, without risking huge fines and lengthy jail terms in solitary confinement.
Egypt is a sick, dying society that presently will have no future, if things continue this way much longer.
Sissi — or is it Isis spelled backwards? —  is a sort of political whore, who is giving away Egyptian land to the Saudis, in return for dubious baksheesh “investment” deals with the Saudis and unconscionable accommodations with Bibi and his violent, racist Zionist band of Arab-hating land grabbers.
All Peepee has to do is say MB, and the Americans will give his precious army enough tanks and dollars (which these ertswhile “generals” of course skim off the top) to continue suppressing the Egyptian people.
I urge all tourists, particularly wealthy Germans, Brits, Italians, French, and Spaniards to boycott Egypt and thus help bring this whore ruling claque to its knees.
Spending Euros in this cesspool of a country is the equivalent of tacitly supporting fascism, and prolonging the exodus to Europe by those who seek freedom and economic opportunity.
Fuck Sissi and his tribe of vile enforcers and state supported parasites.
Maybe out of their ashes will rise a free nation that will no longer feel compelled to turn itself into a vast prison camp, as the elites party the night away in mindless vacations havens such as El Gouna (surrounded of course by a vast security apparatus to keep the bearded ones away), while the rest of Egypt tries vainly to survive in a collapsing, hyper inflationary economy, where only the corrupt and already wealthy do well.
So what does your truly, the humble sexagenarian do amidst all this faouda?
Perhaps the MTA says is best:  if you see something, say something — silence implies assent, and I, like millions of others, will no longer acquiesce. Even if few read this blog, at least it is one voice, that might lead to another, and another, and yet another, until this shit all comes to a stop.
Trump and his supporters will not go down without a fight, and I am afraid that it looks like it will require a convincing reckoning — which I for one hope will be via fair elections and unflinchingly courageous legal means, rather than, say, duels at sunrise with malicious overlords and the racist peasantry who tend their vast dominions  — for things to substantially change.
The differences in the American body politic may seem too vast, too unbridgeable.
But we must never rest until tyrants such as Sissi and Trump and others of their ilk are permanently removed from positions of power, and humiliated to such a degreee that others will think twice before attempting this sort of malevolent crap again.
Will any of this seeming pipe-dream ever transpire?
John and Susan Cooper, to name just two, will never know.

I hope our fate shall differ, in that regard.

leaving america