Y Ahora, un "Grito" de la Chica "Jet Set"

It's that time of year when I avoid Mexican restaurants and bars at all costs...today is Cinco de Mayo.

Usually some doofus white boy or girl decides today is the day to do four shots of Jose Cuervo....in as many minutes. Then they wash it down with the most horrible beverage on the planet. That's right, Corona. (I refuse to call it beer. I know beer. Beer ranges from light amber to dark brown. It is NOT neon yellow.) All to the tune of some really annoying norteno music. Then one of the gang of idiots decides to sing "La Cucaracha", even though they don't know the words.

And that's not even including the Arizona Repulsive's take on the holiday. They always seem to dig up the grumpiest Mexican native in the state to complain about "this isn't the way it's celebrated in Mexico..." They then spout off about some traditional commemoration in their half-a-horse hometown in Guanajuato (really, any state except one that borders on the US....I guess the editorial board doesn't think Sonora or Chihuahua is "authentic Mexican" or something), where people would solemnly march with a poster of Pancho Villa. Maybe Che, who knows....he or she hasn't been back in thirty years, but it's still vivid in their memories. Kids would write essays about "What Cinco de Mayo means to me." And nobody, but NOBODY, ever got drunk on that day. Even the town drunk stayed sober to listen to the kids' missives. None of this commercialism got into the mix until those damn Yanquis ripped off one more thing from poor little Mexico.

Screw it! I'm going to sit on my balcony with a bit of Sauza Hornitos, liquid nectar of the tequila gods. Maybe I'll toast Mexico after I finish toasting Tejas. Why Texas? Because, that's the birthplace of the victorious General Ignacio Zaragoza, pinche cabron!