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 fucked up. Era the real deal. 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.
I used to look forward to reading you, but a previous edition of your 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. I don’t know how old you are, but blacks had their shot. Abolishing slavery, civil rights, just to name a few big ones. They have made great advances. But, at the same time, any young or old pendejo can see that they also suck. Leading in incarceration, HIV infection rates, abortion rates, low school-testing scores, adoption candidates. These are facts since we started keeping score. So here is this older, confused Chicano who wants you to perhaps help inform the young Latino flock of sheep so as to stop this edification and false idol worship and you turn it into our (Latino and black) struggle! Wake up, pendejo: they had their chance; it’s our turn. Why do you think (the Mexican’s note: he goes on to ramble for a couple hundred more words, so now we jump to the conclusion)? Are you politically scared? Do you want to stick to funny? Or are you, I think, like the misguided sheep of dumb America? —Dewey del Diablo
Dear Readers: I print this letter as educational experience. Dewey wrote it a couple of years ago, so may it give hope to the thousands of you who have sent in preguntas and contact me months later wondering if I’ll ever answer it. Patience, gente: patience. I will, but make like legal immigrants and wait your turn in line. 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. Best yet, Dewey actually introduced himself to me at a Houston book-signing last year with the best possible compliment: “You’re like the Bible, man. I hate you, but I can’t stop reading.” Want to hurt me, Know Nothings? Don’t write to me.