Collective salvation is not possible without personal salvation, but the latter is achievable.

In sixth grade I was first propositioned by a chunky girl named Tijuana Downs. She called me on the telephone one evening and asked me if I would like to be her boyfriend.

The allusion is to the small myrtlelike fruits, not unlike blueberries, of these cacti.

“Are you high?” asked Dove suspiciously. She squinted at Patsy. “Because that's cray-cray.”