In the late 1980's their existed an isolated pool facility lost in the Mojave Desert. It was here, in this
scorched land of southern California located just east of Ridgecrest that the famous bandit Senior
Vasquez was arrested (Later to be tried and executed for murder charges in 75'). Some called him the
robin hood of the west, the great hero of California, an armed desperado imbedded with a certain level of
hispanic class and righteous moral code so scarcely found in criminals of this day and age. Now to sum
this man up you must now picture as the reader this handsome black haired heavy faced outlaw robbing
stables at gun point and hearts of young madame's through his poetry charisma and sly dancing. You
may see as you will these type of men, those of great charm skilled in the art of life, skilled in the art the
west, such a bandit with a heart of a killer and the soul of the humble and quiet that scratch the deepest
of emotions at sunset on a soulful guitar. Such men of beautiful character are rare, he was one that could
negotiate peace and start a war all in the same declaration. Ha! But is it possible then that he led this
darker life of crime for good? Others say it was more for his own good. But who's to say he was all the
much worse than you and I and the rich? The wealthy! We look upon them as examples do we not? Shame
on those many hypocrites, tell me of a fortune in which at some point when you examine it's roots hasn’t
cost the blood and sweat of others. No! There is no nobility in your filthy rich hence why we stick filthy
before there damned luxury. It's blood money from the start! And instead we throw these poor wretches
of the world behind bars with a bullet in their skulls only guilty of having had a bad start. These poor
souls dealt two's three's and four's played at bluff and lost. Shoot them all then! Hang them all then!
where is your guillotine Robespierre! And so it comes to this! Society will rebel then shall it not? And who
are we, often a judge, jury, (The whole lot of them!) to condemn a man twice as noble as we/they are?
You will tell me they are guilty and I will tell you most men don't deserve to be what they are. Ah I see it!
Some pocket weighed coward wants to sleep well at night. Fools! There all the same! They release the
same hounds their afraid of.
But hens such are the rules of the society that we currently abide by, (Or your fate shall be a Vaquez
all the same!) Let us be nobel then with are words and not talk dishonestly, It is often today cheat or get
cheated as it was no different in the past. And so it was that this Vasquez, are horse stealing menace,
one who cried of deep sadness at the injustice of his people through his deeds, found himself a sworn
enemy of the state. But, he is remembered as a war hero in Mexico. Was it not he that yelled to the
upper powers of his blood stained rivals: “Why, If I had the money! These leaches of Americans, bloody
handed wraths! They cleaned out there natives and now they want Texas!” But rest assured this man was
certainly no saint himself, ha my God! A convicted saint would be quite a sight! Such would be like St.
peter blocked by his own gate! Only old fools and disfigured hispanic men, those easily persuaded by the
slim wit of legends claim anything about this mystery criminal as fact. And yet all this still begs the
question, why do we still respect this man as much as we do in southern California? Often lesser men
can't help but admire those thick mustached cowboys that prevailed in the eyes of women like a bull
dancer or a fashionable young man with wealth, jewels infused in his eyes. Do we not somehow respect
those old gone folks deemed to have had so much feminine success? It may then be the choice of women
when the decades pass of who society chooses to remember. And so it was henceforth for this reason
Vasquez even to this day still maintains a level of dignity amongst the people of southern California. A
school popped up in his name, then another, followed by a park in the name of his existence. Why do we
love crooks? Well I suppose it may be because they entertain us so much.
If you ask around, the Mojave Desert is home to just about as much empty nothingness as outer
space. All it really provides is good story telling for old men in rocking chairs. It's a place of constant
sand storm coated with some odd sort of a shrub like texture that defines the way the valleys seem to
move with the sway of the wind. Back some time in 1970 a man named Pedro Kivares, a rich Mexican
landlord resolved a fine evening to adopt the border of this desert as a hub for his recreational aquatic
sports and leisure enterprise. The fellow however underestimated this goal, much too long was spent
lingering on his projects and eventually, due to lack of funds and low costumer population rates he had
to downgrade the level of what he had hoped for his project to become. It seems in fact, that all rich men
will never truly lower themselves down into poverty to accomplish their dreams. It's as if wealth trumps
pleasure, in fact, wealth may just be pleasure! We get so consumed in the liquid we posses we forget
what we hopped to accomplish with it in are youth. Man does, it seems, obviously sleep better at night
with gold in his chest. Indeed large notes have always won brawls against are conscious, the corruptor of
men they say. What virtue can anyone recall that collapses a kings fortune? They've never stood a chance
for two thousand years have they? The gaze of a good man is always on the level of the rich mans feet it
seems.
Now here we are again in 1988, Pedro sold his project and left his unfinished dream to a young
American couple who built a small pool named the “Argent Wind” after their last name “Argent” and all
that blasted wind (Although during the summers the breeze is nearly non existent). Stuck in mere
solitude the members of the pool come rarely and often only for selective periods of time. Often the very
wealthy pick up memberships to attend these sorts of pools just to show up no more than half a day a
year. Yet, are good Argent Wind pool stays a float! How? It has become for odd reasons a question of
social status amongst the extremely wealthy members (Often from the Palm Springs region) to hold a
membership to this pool. Perhaps it would disgrace them if offered by another to visit this hidden oasis,
forced to admit not to be apart of this ridiculous “a pool that we don't swim in” club. Other rich folks join
because it's the only interesting thing to do in the desert, which is also a reason why they never much
visit Mohave country. Yet for such reasons and others the business has remained profitable, and with the
aquatic center empty nearly half the time the association had still managed to hold a decent revenue able
to acquire quick money from those people too rich to care about such small money expenses. If are pool
then is to run on this “Tax the rich must pay” then so be it, but now we must pause and stress the only
exception to this odd situation.
