iArriba!

Today is Cinco De Mayo, but I don't really care. I'm not Mexican but I am Latino, so the universe finds ways to inform me of such every year, with the fifth of May. Honestly I had a better time yesterday, since it was May 4th, and that was Star Wars day!

May the 4th be with you!

Something about wookie co-pilots, asteroid field chase sequences, and light sabers, just resonates with me on a much bigger level, then being Hispanic. There is probably a meaning for the holiday, like some catholic saint decided to save the world of all used Kleenex's that day, and we now call it cinco de mayo, or some such nonsense. but if we're choosing nonsense to celebrate, put mine in outer space, any day.

2 comments:

checho said...

-FIrst Encounter- The year was nineteen and ninety eight-ish. Jurupa Middle School. I was running the mile during P.E., well more like hobbling the mile. I reached a little embankment out in the field when I began to hear a tall, slightly pasty, green-eyed boy with freckles, huffing and puffing and ranting about the injustices of being compared TO or confused FOR a messican. "Just because my last name is Molina, doesn't mean I'm messican," said the tall, slightly pasty, green-eyed boy with freckles. I asked the boy, "what are you?" Said the boy, "nicaraguense, I'M FROM NICARAGUA!!" He had a slight resentment in his voice, as if he was being looked down upon for being messican, and he wanted to clear the air once and for all! "I AM NOT A MESSICAN, I AM NICARAGUENSE! I AM NOT ONE OF THEM! JUST BECAUSE I'M HISPANIC DOESN'T MAKE ME A MESSICAN!" I don't know if he ever got over his anger about being compared to one of us, but surely he had to have realized that 5 de Mayonnaise isn't even celebrated in Mexico. Only in the U.S. Specifically, the southwest, where the majority of Americans of Mexican descent reside. 5 de Mayonnaise is a capitalist holiday, and that's what capitalism does: exploits people's nationalistic fervor by pandering to their color or race or heritage; all the while pissing off people of other nationalities or color or race or heritage. The beer companies and the restaurants don't care that their tactics create these kinds of antagonisms, they just wants to get payed. Oh shit, did I mention the tall, pasty, green-eyed freckled boy is my friend Bill? That's how we first met, or at least how I met HIM! I know he doesn't hate messicans, he just hates the douche bags that like to doodle on walls and shit. I hate them, too! Well, I don't really hate them, I have a more profound understanding for their culture and why they are the way they are. I also understand that their culture, despite the green, white and red; and the Aztec ladies on the hoods of their cars, is not actually Mexican culture. Up until about twenty or thirty years ago, it was exclusively an American sub-culture, then it spread out. But you can't blame them on us, dude! Blame the system which produced them!

checho said...

p.s. this is how i first met you bill.... i don't know why i remember that... but, yea. i think that little story came out mean or cynical or sarcastic. I'm not a writer and i have a.d.d, so i meander. I was trying to write about 5 de mayo and intertwine it (via the the whole mexican thing) with how I met you, but it read like some accusatory rant against consumerism and unintentionally, you....heehee