CVIndependent

Sat08152020

Last updateMon, 20 Apr 2020 1pm

Dear Mexican: Why is it that mid-30s Mexican heinas let their bush go all out? And then they get mad ’cause you ain’t eatin’ them?

I Won’t Make a Pink Taco Joke, Promise

Dear Pocho: Bruh, you’ve watched too much porn—you really think expecting women to have no pubic hair so they can look prepubescent is healthy? That’s pedophile territory right there—I should call To Catch a Predator on you. If the mexicanas you bed are au natural, it’s because they’re in touch with Pachamama and rightfully have no shame with what God granted them.

As for the second pregunta: I actually answered it a decade ago, with me reporting then that “a 2002 report by the National Center for Health Statistics showed that 74 percent of Latino men had performed cunnilingus at one point in their life.” Now comes the 2010 results from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention's National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey, which found that 84.6 percent of Latino males reported performing oral sex … but only 72 percent of Mexican Americans did the deed. And we wonder why so many of our mujeres leave us for gabachos and Salvadorans …

Dear Mexican: A young California high school boy of Latino heritage asked me: Why did us whities steal California from Mexico? I asked him who told him that, and he said his father. I told him we purchased California from Mexico, via the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the opportunity to discuss the history or the details of the transaction with him.

Is common for Hispanics to think California was stolen? If so, that makes them appear very uneducated about their so-called homeland … don’t you think?

Retired Teacher

Dear Gabacho: Wow, so many babadas to unpack here! First off, pick: Hispanic? Latino? Those terms ain’t interchangeable. Really, you mean “Mexican”—say our name, pendejo.

Most importantly, the U.S. “purchased” California and the rest of Aztlán from Mexico the way the U.S. “purchased” Georgia from the Cherokees. Mexicans see the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo for what it is: a purchase done down the barrel of the Mexican-American War. And it wasn’t just us: Abraham Lincoln opposed it while a congressman, and Ulysses S. Grant described the war years later as “one of the most unjust ever waged by a stronger against a weaker nation. It was an instance of a republic following the bad example of European monarchies, in not considering justice in their desire to acquire additional territory”—and all those guys did was save the Republic, you know?

Even if we play your Manifest Destiny game, the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was still thievery: It didn’t respect the land rights of the conquered Mexicans, therefore allowing a bunch of Pikers to murder, pillage and rob Mexicans of their lands under the threat of marrying their daughters. “Uneducated about their so-called homeland?” That’s you and your fellow gabachos, pendejo.


THE MEXICAN NEEDS AN EDITOR!

Last week, I tweeted about the horrific assault on Leslie Jones’ website and tried to use the hacker obsession with Harambe as a punchline. People took it as me comparing the actress to an ape, which shows I REALLY need an editor.

The tweet pissed off and hurt good folks—I’ve owned up to my pendejada, and I will continue to do so. This column has slammed raza for our inherent anti-blackness almost from the start, and we need black and brown solidarity now more than ever in this era of Trump—and definitely don’t need a weak-salsa satirist fucking shit up.

Ask the Mexican at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.; be his fan on Facebook; follow him on Twitter @gustavoarellano; or follow him on Instagram @gustavo_arellano!

Published in Ask a Mexican

The first Ghostbusters was a magnificent movie miracle.

Some of the greatest comedy actors of the time (Bill Murray, Harold Ramis, Rick Moranis and Dan Aykroyd) joined forces under the guidance of a hot director (Ivan Reitman, coming off Stripes and Meatballs) to merge horror, science fiction, comedy and big-budget special effects. They balanced these elements perfectly—and turned out a classic.

I was not expecting anything near the brilliance or originality of the 1984 original from Paul Feig’s reboot/remake/whatever-you-want-to-call-it entry into a movie franchise that has remained dormant since the miserable 1989 sequel, Ghostbusters 2. Considering the cast that Feig assembled—Kristen Wiig, Melissa McCarthy, Kate McKinnon and Leslie Jones—I did expect to have a good time.

That didn’t happen. I was bored … super bored. I laughed a total of 2 1/2 times at the new Ghostbusters, and I did not laugh once due to anything the headliners did. It’s as if Feig (Bridesmaids, Spy, The Heat) figured, “Hey, I have these stars and a big budget for special effects. I don’t really need a funny script, do I? These stars can just stand in front of a camera and be funny, right?”

Perhaps they can, but that didn’t happen this time out: Ghostbusters is a stale facsimile of the original. If you watched those lousy preview trailers and worried that the franchise was creatively bankrupt, know that the stupid jokes in that trailer (“That’s gonna leave a mark!”) are about the best laughs the film has to offer. I found myself really annoyed with the haters who judged this movie by those lousy trailers before they saw the completed project. Sadly, I have now joined that camp: I really hated this movie.

The normally reliable Wiig, as the “sensible scientist,” basically stands around looking lost. Comedic firecracker McCarthy, as the trailblazer scientist of the group, bumbles her way through the role with a smile but no material. My current favorite Saturday Night Live star, Kate McKinnon, is the brainy yet eccentric science wizard; she’s allowed to mug like a crack addict on an New York City subway full of inebriated, unarmed billionaires. Leslie Jones, as the street-smart member with no science chops, seems to equate volume with humor. She’s just loud.

After a promising start featuring Zach Woods (Silicon Valley), Ed Begley Jr. and a haunted house, the plot switches to a geek (Neil Casey) looking to cause a ghost apocalypse in Manhattan. He’s planting traps around the city that attract paranormal activity, perhaps because he’s lonely. The new Ghostbusters then band together to conquer the geek and save the city.

The ghosts are dull, fluorescent things bolstered slightly by some decent 3-D effects, if you should choose the more-expensive viewing route. The folks putting together some of the 3-D action did a pretty good job: There are moments where stuff seems to be coming out of the movie frame and suspending in the air in front of you. Those moments won’t make you laugh, but they might wake you up a little.

Andy Garcia as the mayor made me laugh … once. Begley as a paranormal enthusiast made me laugh … once. Chris Hemsworth as a brain-dead receptionist almost made me laugh once, but it was more like a chortle. That’s it for the laugh count.

Aykroyd, Murray, Ernie Hudson, Annie Potts and Sigourney Weaver all make useless, remarkably lame cameos. Ramis also makes an appearance in one of the movie’s few inspired moments.

To say this film is a disappointment would be an understatement. So far, this summer has blown it with Spielberg, Superman, Batman, Independence Day aliens and now the Ghostbusters. Will Suicide Squad return some dignity to DC? Will Star Trek Beyond give the summer the big-budget fun boost it needs?

Let’s hope the movies get a lot better when it gets cold outside. Let’s also hope that the people steering this franchise have a much funnier script in their hands before they make any further adventures involving proton packs.

Ghostbusters is playing at theaters across the valley.

Published in Reviews