By LP Hastings
By Michael Goldstein
By R. Scott Moxley
By Gustavo Arellano
By Gustavo Arellano
By Matt Coker
By Nick Schou
By Bethania Palma Markus
The Mexican is now on MySpace after some wab tried to pass himself off as the Mexican (warning to anyone else who tries: I'll get the Costa Mesa Police Department to deport your ass back to Guatemala). Questions now come in from across the country rather than just SanTana and the headquarters of the Republican Party. Here are some of the cheesier ones, along with my one-sentence ripostes:
Why do Mexicans always cram into a small car?
Because a burro can't support more than three people.
How come Mexicans play soccer and not a real sport like hockey or football?
Because soccer involves more running, and how else will we train for the midnight run across the U.S.-Mexico border?
Why does Mexican food always make me shit?
Because it wants to leave your gabacho ass as soon as possible.
None of you Mexicans in Louisville have jobs.
We take after Kentuckians.
Join the MySpace fiesta! Visit myspace.com/askamexican and be the Mexican's friend! You can also check out the ¡Mexican of the Week!, an online-only column featuring the world's best pictures of Mexicans—the beer guts, the mustaches, the donkey shows. Send pictures so I can post them, but no Speedy González portraits, por favor—you're more bigoted than that.
Why do some Mexican girls dye their hair blond? It looks so fake! I hate seeing a dark-ass Mexican girl with nasty dyed blond hair. Who is she trying to fool? Where is the pride in having dark hair?
Más Cábron que Bonito
From the broom-thick mustaches Mexican men sprout to the penciled-in eyebrows of our women, the world remains transfixed by the follicle follies of Mexicans. And nothing provokes more sneers than the insistence of some Mexican women on dyeing their hair blond. The easy explanation is to claim fake-blond Mexicans so hate their roots that they literally bleach them into oblivion in the effort to assimilate, a phenomenon feminists and Chicano studies professors call internalized colonialism. But the fake-blond Mexican woman, like the Chinese railroad laborer and the Slovak steelworker before her, is an archetype of American immigrant tenacity. The fake-blond Mexican knows everyone will laugh at her look—and still she dyes. No one will deny her the right to look as flashy as a peacock—not Americans,not Mexican men, not good taste. The fake-blond Mexican is a strong woman. She's a survivor. She looks like a Swede who just returned from the Sahara. Dyeing your hair blond while Mexican isn't a fashion faux pas, More Bad-Ass Than Cute: it's a Randian display of individuality no gabacho would dare attempt. And for that, fake-blond Mexican chicas, we raise our peroxide bottles in honor.
Hear the Mexican live this Friday at 4 p.m. as he guest-hosts KPFK-FM 90.7'sPocho Hour of Power. Call (714) 550-5916 for more info. As always, send your spicy questions about Mexicans to email@example.com. And those of you who do submit questions: include a hilarious pseudonym,por favor, or we'll make one up for you!
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