¡Ask A Mexican! for Jul 02, 2009

One man's take on his culture's stereotypes

Dear Mexican: Looking back recently on my distant youth in northwest Ohio, I came to the realization that the sweetest, most beautiful girl this gabacho ever went out with (indeed, in my entire senior class) was the pure-blooded daughter of Mexican immigrants. Am I under the sway of 1) simple nostalgia; 2) racist exoticism; 3) premature senility; 4) a deep sense of loss for what might have been? Please help, before I start reading Proust! –Couldn’t Help Wondering

Dear Gabacho: None of the above. Face it: you f***** up. Now, go drown your mistake in bottles of Sauza (rotgut tequila; you don’t deserve the amber heaven that is Herradura), put on the Pedro Infante, and weep like a good macho. After that, find her on Facebook and say what’s up.

A previous column beguiles me to express my disdain. A guy asked why so many young Latinos grab their dick, quote rap and don’t embrace their own culture. Here was your chance to speak out about something that LULAC, MALDEF, and every other farce of a Latino voice out there should have already done and rip Mexican youth a new one for loving black culture. Blacks had their shot. Abolishing slavery, civil rights, just to name a few big ones. They’ve made great advances. But, at the same time, any young or old pendejo can see that they lead in incarceration, HIV infection rates, abortion rates, low school testing scores, adoption candidates. So here’s this older, confused Chicano who wants you to help inform the young Latino flock of sheep so as to stop this false idol worship and you turn it into our (Latino and black) struggle! Wake up, pendejo: they had their chance; it’s our turn. Are you politically scared? Do you want to stick to funny? –Dewey del Diablo

Dear Readers: I print this letter as educational experience. Dewey is a racist Mexican pendejo – his “facts” are as laughable as those created by FAIR, but I’ll let negrito bloggers debunk them – so may this show Mexican apologists that we can dish the hate as good, if not worse, as Know Nothings.

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