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Dear Mexican,
What's up with all the elaborate wrought-iron fences in the Mexican parts of town? It almost seems like everyone is trying to outdo each other with these amazing displays of metallurgy. Is it just another way to try to protect the cars parked on the lawn and keep the livestock from wandering off, or is it a pathway to instant respect and envy among the neighbors?
WHrought Iron To Envy (WHITE) Guy
Dear Gabacho,
This is a question that fascinates even sociologists. At October's "The Latinization of American Culture," a weeklong seminar held by the USC Annenberg School for Communication, UCLA professor David Hayes-Bautista showed pictures of wrought-iron fences to describe what gabachoscan expect when Mexicans move into their neighborhoods. But you can find the answer on the United States-Mexico border, WHITE: fences. Miles and miles of American-made fences. Triple-layered. Jagged. Deadly. That's our introduction to American society when we illegally enter los Estados Unidos.All Mexicans want to assimilate, so fences are usually the first thing we erect once we buy a casa: pointy, menacing bars wrapped with organic barbed wire like bougainvilleas or roses to keep the damn Mexicans at bay. And still—as evidenced by the lemons stolen from my front lawn every night—Mexicans jump them.
Dear Mexican,
What do you call agabachocholo wannabe like me? "Wexican" sounds pretty dumb. "Wiener" (white beaner) is a lot more insulting than "wigger." Since I'm the opposite of a pocho, I call myself a "chopo." Think it'll catch on?
El Chopo
Dear Gabacho,
No.
Dear Mexican,
It's long been a stereotype that Mexicans are lazy and shiftless. Could that be why you have problems answering my questions?
Douche Chill Cholo
Dear Gabacho,
Patience, gentle gabacho, patience: I have so many questions in queue it looks like the checkout line at Northgate Supermarket. 2005 saw ¡Ask a Mexican! grow from an excuse to print the immortal curse "pinche puto pendejo baboso" ("fucking stupid-ass asshole") into the world's primary font for all things Mexican. The questions arrive daily via burro, e-mail or plopped out from the culos of drug mules—like my wabby cousins, they keep coming. If the Mexican hasn't answered your question yet, that probably means your pregunta isn't that racist, sexist or scatological or doesn't include enough mustache references. My advice: work harder. Or ask a Mexican to ask your question for you. He'll do it better y cheaper.
The Mexican won't answer questions next week as he prepares for the annual winter run to the border. But if you got a spicy question about Mexicans, Ask the Mexican at garellano@ocweekly.com. And those of you who do submit questions: include a hilarious pseudonym,por favor, or we'll make one up for you!
