In a parallel universe just one over from our own, I'm "Livin' La Vida Loco!"

To my many tens of thousands of readers, "Hola from Mexico!"

After nearly seven years of agonizing over the freefall of America and its leap over a cliff in late 2000, I have finally done it. I, too, have taken a plunge. Along with Mrs. Dada and my editor, Sam, we've moved the blog to another country!

Not to worry, everything will remain unchanged save for the fact Dada's Dally is now published in the back room of a small storefront out of which we sell black velvet paintings to Americans. (Our best seller at the moment is anything Brittney Spears followed, curiously, by the U.S.'s vice president, Dick Cheney, as a dominatrix dressed in black nylons and skimpy netting, standing atop a platform resembling planet Earth.)

A huge advantage to our big international relocation is we're just nine miles from our previous place and only four miles from the nearest Wal-Mart just over the border. And don't worry about all the lawlessness you hear rumors of down here in Latin America.

While I recently spent a few terrifying moments under a sidewalk display of stacked rugs in the middle of the cross fire between rival warlords battling for control of this area's illegal drug market, it was all over in less than half a minute. And, we knew where the bullets were coming from and we knew we were not the targets in this war.

That's very, very different from the wars in the "old country," where for over six years now the war on terror, the war on the middle class, the war for international domination, are liable to hit you anytime, anywhere, from any direction from anyone.

As for corruption, not to worry there either. It's just more out in the open here, where bribing a cop will sometimes get you off a hook. It's not like up north where the corruption is more subtle, where agencies supposedly looking out for public health and safety are stacked with cronies and their unqualified former college dorm mates. Where natural disasters like hurricanes and wildfires are seen as just more profit opportunities and ways to bleed the treasury. Where billions of dollars for things like reconstruction of war torn places just vanish into the nether. (Maybe they go to the same place as those vanished people renditioned to god awful places, but I seriously doubt it.)

Maybe that's why down here American's second favorite black velvet paintings are those of their vice president, old what's his name?

(Side note: I've spoken to the business across the street from my shop about the chances of him changing the name of his storefront. Sadly, he flatly refuses which, I suppose, is a good metaphor, that no matter how far you go--even if it's nine miles and across an international border--you just can't escape "BUSH"!)