Dear Mexican: Why Do White People Love Marco Rubio?
Dear Mexican: Why do white people love Marco Rubio and cry at his speeches? Rubio was in town selling his vision-for-America mierda to his gabacho constituency, and they drank it up like Tía’s fresh jamaica. They wondered why we Mexicans can’t get behind the Great Brown Hope. Do we know Rubio even talks to the kitchen help and waitstaff when he’s finished talking at banquets? “Oh, my God! He’s so inspiring!” FUCK THAT.
Dear Pocho: Democratic politicians in the Southwest have given shout-outs to the help for years, but you don’t see Dems freaking out about it, mostly because they realized long ago that Mexicans were humans. I won’t elaborate too much on why Mexicans don’t like Rubio here — see my Guardian column from last month for a more thorough explanation — but why gabachos like Rubio is easy: They think he’s their brown bullet to make more Mexicans conservatives. The more interesting trend I find is what you pointed out: how gabachos try to shame Mexicans into liking Rubio. Only in America do gabachos have the audacity to tell minorities they’re not minority enough because they don’t embrace a token.
Dear Mexican: My wife and I are gabachos living in a 99% Hispanic neighborhood. We are very tolerant folks and chose where we live because of its diversity. Unfortunately, our immediate neighbors are putting us in an awkward situation. One has four pit bulls in his back yard, and they bark loudly all the time. The other has a boomin’ system in his car and loves to sit in his driveway and clean the car while blasting gangsta rap. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but we work out of our house, and the noise greatly affects our ability to converse with clients over the phone.
Do you have any suggestions for addressing the problem without my being shot by gangsta man or alienating my pit-bull-loving neighbor? I want to avoid having them see this as a white-on-brown thing; it’s more of an “I live right next to you and you are ruining my life by your inconsideration” thing. Or is it just con estos bueyes hay que arar?
Yo Estoy Como Perro en Barrio Ajeno
Dear I’m Like a Dog in a Strange Neighborhood: Don’t give me that “Plow with the oxen you have” bullshit. If you bought into the neighborhood not knowing that Mexican dogs bark a lot, that cholos like to blast music and that Mexicans also work out of their homes, then I’m marking you as a gentrifier who deserves no pity. Your only solace is that other gentrifying pendejos will also move into the neighborhood, and those loud Mexicans you complain about will be gone in five years. Congrats on being the Cortés of the barrio!
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