By Ray Stern
By Ray Stern
By New Times
By Amy Silverman
By Stephen Lemons
By Stephen Lemons
By Monica Alonzo
By Chris Parker
Por supuesto there are doctors, lawyers, accountants, scientists and other professionals in Mexico — who do you think sews up the narcos after a gun battle, fights off American extradition efforts, launders their money, and devises nuevas ways to smuggle?
Why do all Mexican restaurant workers cram the napkin dispensers
so full that you can't possibly remove a napkin without a pair of
It's called "refilling a napkin dispenser."
Something I've never understood about other Mexicans, as I am one
. . . When speaking to other Mexicans about higher education and its
importance, they always interrupt me to place an emphasis on the
associate's degree. I've wanted to slap a primo/prima/amigo silly. Why
the low standard? I've asked educators about this before and been told
it was a low achievement standard that was placed on Mexican-American
students in the 1960s and 1970s by mainly high school counselors.
Párate and Deliver
Instead of giving your primo/prima/amigo a cachetada, why don't you help them transfer to a four-year university? Heaven knows America needs more of its Mexicans at institutes of higher learning — on top of our abysmal high school graduation rates, not enough of us go on to get a college diploma. The 2008 U.S. Census Bureau Current Population Survey's Annual Social and Economic Supplement found that only 28 percent of Latinos who finished high school went on to earn at least a bachelor's degree — and the percentage for Mexis is undoubtedly smaller (the Survey didn't break down its figures by Latin American nationality). Why the low standard? Ignorance, silly! Not just limited to Know-Nothings! Oh, and I don't think there was a widespread gabacho counselor conspiracy in the 1960s to funnel Mexicans of that generation into community college — most encouraged their charges to not bother with education, period.
Why are Mexicans so . . . laid back?
Crazy and Lazy
Mañana, mañana. Que será, será. Mexicans sleeping under a cactus. All iconic American commentaries on our inherent relaxed nature. La verdad is, Mexicans are more neurotic than Woody Allen's onscreen persona — and if you don't believe me, you try living life avoiding la migra or knowing that if white teens in a Pennsylvania hick town murder you, they'll get off with simple assault.
I recently worked security at a Tumbleweeds concert here in
Albuquerque. I guess they are a very popular musical group with the
Mexicans. As I was checking IDs and letting people into the beer area,
I noticed that almost all of the Mexican guys held onto their
wives/girlfriends/lady friends IDs. The women don't hold their own IDs,
the guys hold them, show them, then put the ID back into their own
wallet. What's up with that? I asked a co-worker about this and she
told me it's a power thing. So what's the deal?
Could be a power-trip macho thing, but probably is that the chica didn't want to carry a purse and would rather let her man carry the ID than stick it between her chichis. Sometimes, Mexicans aren't rocket science.