By Monica Alonzo
By Stephen Lemons
By Jason P. Woodbury
By Dulce Paloma Baltazar Pedraza
By Ray Stern
By Pete Kotz
By Monica Alonzo
By New Times
Chingao, where to begin? Let's start with labels. This is ¡Ask a Mexican! not ¡Ask a Latin American! Questioners: Por favor remember this small detail; if you send me questions about Latinos, I'll forward them to Carlos Mencia so he can duh-duh-duh them to death. Next up are your lies. For one, even the Federation for American Immigration Reform, one of the preeminent Know Nothing think tanks and an organization predisposed to project worst-case scenarios, estimates "the annual net cost of illegal immigrants (after subtracting their tax payments) to the American taxpayer is likely to be more than $45 billion" — a lot of dinero, but hardly the trillions you claim. And Latin American elites have lived like monarchs since, well, forever. That's why they're elites, silly! Ever heard of the Monroe Doctrine? Read up on it, and spare me your interventionist pendejadas. Drop the class-warrior rhetoric — you sound like a Chicano Studies major, except whinier and with less logic. Finally, your slavery question begs la pregunta: Is our present peculiar institution, as insane as it is for both sides, slavery? Not in the Mexican's book. Illegals have free will to leave this country (except in a couple of cases; visit ciw-online.org for more details about true tragedies in the fields) but don't leave because of America's unquenched thirst for higher profits and cheaper costs — and if this smacks of Marxist drivel, then I suggest you tune in to Lou Dobbs tonight for more of it.
While at an art gallery, a female friend seemed to shrivel at the sight of people sipping wine in huge glasses. She leaned over and whispered, "I am so out of my Mexican comfort zone." Is she just crazy or is there some logic behind her statement? Please enlighten us.
What's with the whiners this week? I've heard your amiga's line muchos times from assimilated Mexicans in different situations — university classrooms, workplace, new neighborhoods — and my response is always the same: Get over yourselves. Yes, Mexicans are going places we've rarely visited in a non-janitorial situation, but that's a cause for celebration, not brown guilt. Stride with pride, O pioneers! If you don't feel comfortable surrounded by gabachos, leave or smuggle in a couple of cousins to get the fiesta started. And if it makes your friend feel any better, Brown Bourgie, those gabachos that freaked her out so probably also hyperventilated at the thought of a non-peon wab in their midst.
Love your wit and witticisms! If I weren't already engaged to a muy guapo mexicano, I'd tell you "¡Llamame pa'tras!" How is it that you always manage to one-up your readers?
I get the last word. Plus, daily doses of Chocomil.