By Tommy Acosta
People have been asking why I haven’t written any articles or opinions for Sedona.biz lately.
Honestly? I’m bored. Nothing inspires me. I sit down to write and it’s like watching an old movie I’ve already seen a dozen times — I know the plot, the twists, the ending, and the credits before the first scene even opens.
I can’t find a single topic, political or otherwise, that lights a spark.
Take Trump’s now-predestined invasion of Venezuela. Ho hum. He’s using the “narco-terrorism” excuse as a pretense to go in and seize Venezuela’s massive oil supply. Who doesn’t already know this? Not to mention, it certainly shifts attention away from the Epstein files.
Yes, the Epstein files — the shiny apple dangling in front of a nation walking blindly forward into deeper and deeper ignorance. And let’s be honest: nothing will come of it. The redactions will rival the Kennedy assassination report. Another shrug from Washington. No big deal.
Even the cold-blooded killing of a few alleged narco-survivors will fade from the headlines. Washington marches on toward Bizarro World. Those little boats they blew up didn’t even carry enough drugs to fuel a Hollywood “freak-out” party. To keep America’s drug habit satisfied, it takes a tanker a week.
And what a waste of money — two $50,000-plus rockets to kill just two men. Efficiency clearly wasn’t part of the mission briefing.
Then there’s ICE. These uniformed agents walking the streets fully armed — a prelude to what’s been percolating for a long while. Once the former CIA operative fulfilled his mission to kill a Border Patrol agent, the gates opened for military-style control over every state and city. It’s so obvious it barely deserves mentioning.
Am I missing something?
Oh, right — Russia will get what it wants, Ukraine will return whatever territory it must, and the U.S. military-industrial complex will keep its revenue stream alive with the bombing of Venezuela and maybe a few more South American dictatorships in need of toppling.
Yawn.
How about Sedona?
The Cultural Park? You can be pretty sure that music venue will be built. Sedona will become a go-to stop for major acts. The proponents are stronger than the opponents and the affordable housing crusaders combined.
Even the fight against STRs is stupid and boring. Those trying to stop them stand about the same chance as a strand of spaghetti surviving a pot party. A man’s home is his castle — get over it and stop wasting money trying to undo it.
Oh, and what about NYC electing Mamdani? Again — no communist revolution is coming. New Yorkers aren’t about to grab pitchforks and storm the castles of the rich.
But then something actually interesting happened.
I went to dinner the other night at Bella Vita and witnessed a spectacle I never would have imagined. A group of four people sat at the table next to me, and among them was a man who must have weighed close to 350 pounds. He had to be eased into his chair and the table pushed away from him to make room.
I watched him with half an eye, expecting some cartoonish feast — five plates of spaghetti, a couple of steaks, maybe an entire loaf of garlic bread inhaled in one go.
But when his plate arrived — a large steak entrée — I was stunned.
Instead of the wild feeding frenzy I anticipated, the man approached his meal with reverence. Absolute reverence. He looked like a priest preparing to serve communion. His movements were soft, intentional, almost ceremonial. He cut each bite with the precision of a master surgeon. I was mesmerized.
And the joy — pure, quiet joy — radiated from him with every perfectly carved morsel. He never lost control. He savored. He appreciated. He was having a private spiritual experience with every bite.
Across from him sat a very skinny fellow who, the second his steak landed, dove into it like the cartoon character I originally pictured — swallowing huge chunks, ramming food down his gullet with reckless abandon.
The contrast was astounding.
Sometimes people-watching is far more interesting than watching the world fall apart, predicting political trends, or analyzing how populations are manipulated by those who profit from engineered misery.
Ah! That felt good.
Squeezed out an article. Knocked the rust off the pen.
Watching that huge man eat was a real eye-opener — and a reminder not to judge a book by its cover.
And by the way, if you haven’t eaten there yet, make it a point to visit Bella Vita Restaurant on SR 89A. Great Italian dishes and fantastic steaks. Yum.
This is an advertisement
