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
Dear Mexican: A group of very young soldiers in the Mexican army were being chased through the castle by U.S. Marines. At the end of the chase, the Mexicans realized they were trapped on a balcony, and instead of dying on bayonets, they wrapped themselves in Mexican flags and leapt to their deaths off the balcony. Now these boys are revered as the Niños Héroes. What is it about running from a fight and committing suicide that implies bravery and heroism? I bet their commanding officer was calling them Niños Chingones.
From the Halls of Montezuma
Dear Gabacho: If you’re going to make a case for Mexican cowardice, at least get the facts right. Only one of the six Niños Héroes (“Heroic Boys”) leaped off Chapultepec Castle in the climactic battle of the Mexican-American War wrapped in the tricolor; the other five (all between the ages of 15 and 19) fought to the death against the gabachos despite orders from their commanders to fall back. Sounds pretty valiant to me, but don’t take my palabra for it: When American reporters asked President Harry Truman why he paid his respects to the chavos at their monument when he visited Mexico City in 1947, Give ‘Em Hell simply replied, “Brave men don’t belong to any one country. I respect bravery wherever I see it.”
Dear Mexican: Why is it that all Mexicans (not the pocho/Chicano Mexicans like me, but the border-brother ones) have those stupid fucking stickers depicting the images of their huge families, with all their names, from big to small, on the back window of their Chevy Astro vans? It’s always about seven to 14 images, including their pets, starting with the big papi Julio and ending with the little perro Chico. And they always have a kid named Angel or Jesus, as well as a token kid with a gringo name such as Mathew or Jeff. This shit has to stop. Between putting those big fucking stickers of cows on their doors and the name of their state or village in humongous letters across their windshields or rear windows, it’s getting pretty pathetic. I kind of have a feeling it’s the Big Papi that’s behind these family stickers. He feels macho showing everybody how many kids he has; little does he know most of them will become gangbangers, get shot, put in prison, or die from drug overdoses.
Pocho Wanting Wabs to Stop Being So Stupid
Dear Wab: Mijo, were you around during the 1980s? Back then, gabachos used to hang small “yield” signs from their rear windows with such stupid sayings as “Baby on Board” or “My Child Can Beat Up Your Honor Student.” Maybe you saw the Simpsons episode in which Homer wrote a barbershop-quartet song addressing the phenomenon, thereby catapulting himself to international acclaim and an audience with George Harrison over a brownie? Point is, folks in America have been putting crap on their cars since Henry Ford included a copy of The Protocols of the Elders of Zion with each Model T. Mexicans might seem to suffer more from this malady—you forgot to mention bumper stickers of Tweety Bird and Spanish-language DJ El Piolín, Mexican-flag decals, and those bizarre Chihuahuas that keep moving their heads—but if you think only wabs do this, then head to your nearest truck stop and see how many good ol’ muchachos have mud flaps with Yosemite Sam on them.
MEET THE MEXICAN! The Mexican will sign copies of his books at Café con Leche, 126 W. Wilshire Ave., Fullerton, (714) 578-8239. Thurs., Oct. 23, 7:30 p.m.
¡ASK A MEXICAN CONTEST! Want a free copy of my latest book? Orange County: A Personal History is the finest book published in los Estados Unidos since last year’s surprise smash, ¡Ask a Mexican! First person from each paper I appear in (and the first five fregones from ignorant backwaters that don’t carry the Mexican) to send me a picture of him- or herself standing next to a stop sign with a bag of oranges gets a copy. Make sure to sell those oranges while you’re posing! Send pictures to the addresses below!
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