Thai food is good.
Listening to the Stooges right now is better.

I recently flown my first kite a couple weeks ago.

My father was recently telling me a story about kite flying in Argentina.

When old Miguel Sycz was trying to fly kites in Buenos Aires, as a poor child, he tried to find anything available to create his kite. May it be some newspaper, a few sticks laying around in the gutter, and pieces of string that he would find and tie together to make a long line. Glue was often obtained from old cow fat or if you were lucky enough some extra horse fat from the glue factory.

(Side note: Much of the glue used in Argentina during the 40s was made from Jews in Germany, before my Dad's time)

Now while all the kids in the neighborhood enjoyed flying kites, there was a animosity between the children of the poor and the more well to do. Because the more well to do had their parents buy them very proper supplies to build their kites while their poorer associates had to make do with what they had. So the poor, less fortunate, led by the old Sycz, decided that they had to humble their rich counterparts. In other words, a mine class war took part in the skies.

On the tails of "los desperasidos" they fashioned on razor blades to cut the lines of their opponents and win their war in the skies. And as my father stated, "I was a kite terrorist." As kites flew together in the sky, one class would try to cross lines with the other class to cut there line and let their kites to fly far away.

Vive los Pobres!