National Latino Conference Call

El Guapo often wears his leopard print smoking jacket and oils up the lush rain forest that he calls chest hair so that each thick follicle looks like a curly black diamond twinkling in an otherwise sightless sky. This grooming, of course, is strictly for his own amusement since it is common knowledge that El Guapo cannot enhance perfection. (Although, if anyone could accomplish this feat, it’d be the unrivaled Guapo.) As he flat irons, braids, highlights or waits for a new economy sized jug of pomade to be rolled in, he often twirls his twirl-worthy mustache and thinks, as only he can, about all things under the sun.

On this fine day, El Guapo decided enough was enough and began a crusade that rivals any other in the course of human history. The problem that lit this fire under his unparalleled, incomparable ass had become so unavoidable that he felt obligated to intervene – even though, truth be told. he prefers only to help others who help themselves. Unfortunately, the American Latino (Guatsupinus Cabronicus) as a species finally tried El Guapo’s patience beyond the breaking point.

While US Latinos continue on a path toward dominance through procreation, there is a serious thread of dissension within a small, yet significant segment of the population who refuse to comply and behave accordingly. Latinos are, in fact, a monolithic group with monolithic opinions. We like spicy food. We ride around in compact cars with our extended families and pile out like clowns at the circus. We spank our children with chanclas and extension cords and we get absurdly enthused when surrounded by vegetation because we can, like Edward Scissorhands, turn any nearby shrub into any whimsical object. Let this uniformity be known and spread far and wide.

Only through this homogeneous thinking can we move forward. Dissension is our enemy and it makes it harder to understand us. Media outlets, news organizations need consensus from us - in fact, in many cases they've helped by providing a clear consensus for us. Some Latinos refuse to listen and others are simply unaware of our agreed upon opinions. So, El Guapo first decided to call each and every Latino and go through all of our opinions once and for all but this proved both time consuming and, since many of you have had your phones disconnected, rather frustrating. Others were so in awe of speaking with El Guapo that the giddy squeals allowed for very little to get done. So, because El Guapo is a visionary, we will be holding monthly Latino conference calls beginning next month. Now, it’s only a matter of coordinating a date and time that’s good for the 45 million of us in the United States. How’s Tuesday look for you?

El Guapo Interviews Estevan Vega

The following interview with Estevan Vega, author of The Sacred Sin, took place in an undisclosed location after El Guapo finally ditched those blasted Bee Gees who've been following him for weeks singing "Staying Alive" - While it was tolerable at first, it had grown creepy. El Guapo understands he's a ladies man, enough of you Bee Gees. Here are some of Mr. Vega's responses to the hard-hitting questions posed. They reveal some interesting things about the author:

El Guapo: If you had a chance to punch someone in the face (or kick him/her in the crotch), free of any reprisal - legal or otherwise - who would it be and why?

Estevan: If I could punch anyone in the junk without fear of getting arrested, beaten or spanked (well, maybe), it would probably be 50 Cent. For starters, this poetic master lives in Connecticut, but sadly, he gives all us Connecticutians--and lovers of the English language--a somewhat tainted name. Something about "partyin' in da club", as he's "licking lollipops" in a candyshop while on the block with his a-yo technological hoochie-mommas. The lyrics and dance moves might in fact be too intelligent for most Americans. Plus, I'm concerned for his neck muscles. Should anyone really be wearing bling that gaudy? So, yeah, due to unbelievable I.Q. levels, a mouth that refuses to open when he spits his rhymes, 50 Cent gets two jabs in or around the crotch region, i.e. magic wand...I just hope his posse doesn't see me, or I might get shot at nine times.

El Guapo: Dumbest thing you've ever done?..."Answering this question" and "Agreeing to this BS" are not an acceptable answers.

Estevan: The dumbest thing I've ever done is walk into a Taco Bell restroom with my eyes open. I swear, that might have been the biggest mistake of my young life. Never, I repeat, never walk into any Taco Bell restroom (or any fast-food chain) unprepared. The consequences could be deadly, hot, and all over the toilet seat. Or worse, you might actually turn into a Chupacabra.

El Guapo: This is a controversy for the ages...What is your stance on the bolo tie?

Estevan: Hmmm....Being a Yankee, I have to answer this question with a certain amount of...complete honesty. If I want a fashion piece that says: "I don't pay taxes, and don't you dare ask for my papers for them there workers," while tipping my hat at the county sheriff, then yes, a bolo tie should be employed during those blistering summer months or while hunting wild buffalo. But, for most of you commoners, unless you're Clint Eastwood--twenty-five years ago--and unless you got a mug that screams: "Yeah, I kick crap for a living, spit on occasion, and prefer talking in raspy, throaty tones," please refrain. Don't agree? Fine, I'll challenge you to a dual. Let the best-dressed, best-looking Yank win.

El Guapo: What's your favorite racial stereotype and why?

Estevan Vega: My favorite sterotype is that every Latino is by nature a Julio or Enrique Iglesias or Mr. Banderas. Talking like Antonio or danicing like one of the Iglesiases is totally lame, unrealistic and degrading. Man, it stings to think that whitey keeps trying to put us in such tight boxes. I mean, c'mon...we're not all that desperate. Some of us spend our nights camped out in front of a boxing match with a hefty honey all our own in the kitchen bringing us rice, beans and Malta (well, how about Root Beer?). I mean, who wants a jaw that quivers when he utters the word "Hero", or the planet Saturn on your face (R.I.P., mole of Enrique) when you can have the real thing? It's tough for a regular, talented, gorgeous man like myself to get a legit date these days from actual girls, and I blame these Latin kings. I've tried singing "Hero" while dressed like Zorro plenty of times, but it just doesn't have the same effect. For some reason, chicks just run away crying and muttering the Rosary while in flight to buy another Enrique album.

El Guapo: Why did you decide to write this book? Money? Fame? Chicks/Dudes? (No other answers will be believed by the rational) Feel free to explain.

Estevan: Oh, without a doubt, I wrote The Sacred Sin and Servant of the Realm for the dough. I mean, most writers write because of an impulse to shed some truth or reality with the world, to lift a veil, or take readers on a thrill-ride, but not me. I figure, why get a legitimate job, when I can be a loaded, ego-centric scribe for the rest of my days? After all, who wouldn't want to spend tons of money publishing, promoting, and mailing out dozens of review copies to anxious readers? Every twenty-five dollar royalty check reminds me I'm living for something better than salsa, quesadillas and The Wal-Mart. It's called success, but why does it for some reason smell a lot like a whole burning away in my wallet?

El Guapo: If you were given a time machine, a lone paper clip, and $50, what would you do and why?"

Estevan: I would go back to when I first saw the movie Transformers for the first time (and take a deep breath), paperclip all of my feelings together, then bring those feelings to Megan Fox's apartment, punch her then-boyfriend in the juevos, and pay her $50 to have lunch with me. Scratch that...dinner.

Why? Because she seems like a wholesome gal and a really good listener. Plus, I have a lot of feelings.


El Guapo: Have you ever committed a crime? If so, explain.

Estevan: Crime: Being way too good-looking and smooth-talking for human females. Sentence: Daily promiscuity, unbelievable antics, and eventual spontaneous head combustion.

So what have we learned about Mr. Vega?...

1. The correct answer for question one was "I would never punch anyone in the face, much less with the guarantee that there would be no repercussions. I am no coward." Mr. Vega is clearly a coward and I have forwarded his information to a certain mushmouthed Mr. 50 cent...
2. He has no common sense...No one admits to stepping foot inside a Taco Bell, much less a TB bathroom...no one. Plus, objectively speaking the Bolo tie is a sign of outright superiority - moral, physical, and with respect to intelligence. Failure to support the Bolo is a sign of inferiority.
   
3. Estevan Vega is unaware that certain stereotypes are inescapably true...The Latin Lover stereotype that he questions and insults (sometimes referred to as the "Latin Lova" in street vernacular) is a scientific fact.
   
4. Delusional. The man is flat-out delusional. To indulge the $50/ paper clip question is absurd.
5. Since the only books worth reading are written by the delusional - particularly those with a tendency toward running with the absolutely absurd - it seems that Mr. Vega's words are definitely worth checking out.

Author interview arranged by our friends at http://authorslatino.com/wordpress

Metaphorical, Numbers-Induced Hard-On?

If you get a metaphorical hard-on when numbers and statistics are thrown about like so much confetti, The Pew Hispanic Center recently let loose some titillating fare for you to lust over. Wipe your chin, cochino/a.

• "Hispanics now make up 22% of all children under the age of 18 in the United States - up from 9% in 1980 -"
• "(52%) of the nation's 16 million Hispanic children are now second generation, meaning they are the US born sons and daughter of at least one foreign-born parent".
• "7% of all Hispanic children are unauthorized immigrants."
• "About one-fifth of Hispanic second-generation children speak English less than "very well"
• "60% of second-generation children have parents who have completed high school and only 31% of these children have parents who have completed some college."

If your toes are tingling after this avalanche of facts and figures, take a break, sit back, and smoke a cigarette. El Guapo will tell you what some of this means.

• "Hispanics now make up 22% of all children under the age of 18 in the United States - up from 9% in 1980 -"
• Latino Parents: El Guapo suggests rethinking your parenting strategy, particularly continuing with the chanclazos that were so common in your own childhood. With the internet, it's only a matter of time before they organize and form a tiny militia and you don't want to be on their shit list. Also, don't forget that someday you'll be old and a nuisance and every nalgada today will haunt you as you get shuttled off to the cheapest retirement home by your embittered, grudge-holding children.
  
• Non-Latinos: Um... How do I say this tactfully?... Well, it matters not, since our plan is diabolical and you can do nothing to stop it: We are training our young ones to grow up and breed (early and often) with Latinos and non-Latinos alike. Revolution through reproduction - a lot more fun than the other kind. We will seep into every family - beginning with families of staunch racists. Guess who's coming to dinner? Nope, Mr. Limbaugh... that's not the landscaper, it's Kelly's boyfriend Guillermo.
  

• "7% of all Hispanic children are unauthorized immigrants."
• Don't be fooled by doe-eyed smiles and gleeful sounds at the park - these little delinquents are here to turn this country upside down and shake every penny into their own sticky hands to buy automatic weapons, drugs, and hookers.
  

• "About one-fifth of Hispanic second-generation children speak English less than "very well"
• I suppose that it'd be wise to speak slowly and only use monosyllabic words when speaking in English to small brown children.
• 
  

Remember: Your humble and handsome El Guapo thinks so you don't have to...

You're welcome.

Racial Roulette - A Cautionary Tale

LOS ANGELES, California

In the break room of an East Los Angeles Walmart a vicious, racially charged, West Side Story-esque brawl [sans dancing and finger snapping ... unfortunately] threatened to spill out into the personal hygene aisle and knock over the hemorrhoid cream that had been neatly stacked on the end cap.

Witnesses who were present during the scuffle, said it began over a seemingly innocuous battle for the break room TV and then took an unexpected turn before anyone noticed. Our sources indicate that the friendly antagonism quickly turned sour when television requests were split down racial lines and with the precision of an Exacto knife, combatants were cut into camps. "Even the deep-seeded departmental conflicts were brushed aside and replaced with seething racial tensions. Insults started to fly and next thing you know, the scared old white greeter took off mumbling into his tuna sandwich."

An anonymous source reports that somehow the animated discussion dipped into the topic of oppression and each faction began to vehemently support the claim that their group - black, white, and brown - was more oppressed than the other two. Each group gained momentum and shouted loudly across a battered folding table.

The woe-off quickly escalated and high quality color charts and graphs materialized out of thin air to explore historical and modern data - including the long-term ramifications of slavery and institutionalized segregation; imprisonment rates were then paraded about in cool fonts; Illegal deportation numbers were outlined; The average educational dollar amount spent per child was bracketed by race and followed by statistics on standardized test scores, educational levels, literacy levels, expected lifetime income. In a dizzying array of misery, the parties in question worked themselves into a fever-pitched lather and pounded fiercely on tables and suddenly began to use laser pointers like Jedi Knights wield light sabers. The lone white guy tiptoed out early on - throwing in the proverbial towel when the angry sneers started being thrown exclusively in his direction after each point was made.

The slight woman from Small Appliances, who it's reported is a Black Dominican Jew or some such thing, walked in only to have everyone freeze mid argument and groan. The participants kicked over the lectern and snapped their poster boards over their knees as they left dejectedly. The young woman was immediately declared the winner, was given the remote ceremoniously, and then proceeded to celebrate - until she realized what exactly she had won. Then she cried and started watching American Idol.

This, That, and The Other (A philosophical treatise)

Even when El Guapo was but a knee-high Guapito, his absolute divinity was inescapable. His incomparable intellect, gravitational charisma, dulcet voice, angelic face, athletic prowess, infinite compassion, uncompromising honesty were (and continue to be) undeniable.

El Guapo recognized even then that there is a clear and fundamental balance in the universe. Duality is a vital and dynamic part of existence. All great cultures, new and old, have explored this eternal theme and how these seemingly warring opposites reside within each of us and this, of course, only parallels the ceaseless interplay in nature, the heavens, etc. All exists and can only be defined by what it is not. One needs the other. To understand what it means to feel cold, one must understand heat. Death is defined by life. The birth of light necessitates absolute darkness. So on and so on.

But this absolute balance is both cosmically beautiful and eternally troublesome to El Guapo. Modesty is an insipid trait that gets us no where, so why beat around the proverbial bush: Fact: El Guapo is the pinnacle of human existence, sheer perfection. And this means, of course, that, by subsequent cosmic necessity, somewhere exists his absolute antithesis – the Lucifer to his Michael (Archangel), the Tom to his Jerry, the anti-matter to his matter, the Scully to his Moulder, the John Baker to his Ponch (see 1970’s Erik Estrada vehicle CHiPs). For this poor, ugly, stupid soul, I weep. But I also thank you, nameless uggo. Thanks for being you. Quoting many a year book, "Don’t you go a-changing."

With the above clarified, again El Guapo will reveal the truth, even if you’d rather ignore it. Even if it makes you shudder. El Guapo is like the owner who forces the dog’s nose into its own feces for its own good. (For the occasional pendejo who reads my words: In the above metaphor, the poop is the ugly truth and in the scenario you are the dog who’d prefer to ignore the steaming pile you just dropped on the carpet.)

So, let me get to the point. Much has been made about inequitable funding for education. Much has been bellowed about regarding our current educational system ironically serving to reinforce existing inequality (on a large scale) rather than fulfilling the popular declarations made about education providing opportunity. Minorities, in particular, like to sing this song. Who are we kidding? Much hullabaloo is made about all kinds of "unfair" practices and situations in all of society. For instance, many even point out that since the schools in Illinois and other states are funded overwhelmingly by property taxes, this only ensures that poor students in poor schools stay poor. But, these people are morons and are missing the point. These are systems and circumstances maintained out of necessity. If it was any other way, the world would implode. Do you want the world to implode? Are you this selfish and short-sighted?

But, like that reluctant dog, we fail to recognize that for others to be educated well there must be a group that is disenfranchised and educated poorly. The down-trodden are serving their celestial purpose. So, smile and stop bitching. It’s part of the plan.

And one final message to that anti-Guapo out there: Please, do not take offense if I see you and cross the street or pretend to have a coughing fit in order to escape your presence. Don't feel slighted. If we meet, we'd create a black hole that would be the end of us all.

"Stay gold, Pony Boy."

Your handsome and humble servant,

El Guapo

What Would Julio Iglesias Do? (Part III)

The W.W.J.D. bracelets are in. (What Would Julio Iglesias Do? – not to be mistaken for the crucified he-who-shall-remain-nameless and his short-lived popularity with a similar product.) Every employee at the eljumpingbean national offices has five or six on and we stop our work day frequently to ponder exactly what Julio Iglesias would do in our shoes at particular moments throughout the day. The results have been unimaginable. Aside from a marked increase in water cooler gropings and impromptu tearful serenades, we are now the pinnacle of efficiency. Life-sized posters of Julio hang above every cubicle and inspire. Our focus now is unmatched.

So, on that fine note, let us sift through our inboxes and answer your most urgent and pertinent questions and help you understand what Julio Iglesias would do if…

1. a rabid possum (or rat or pigeon) threatens the neighborhood pets and children.

If this unlikely situation were to happen, Julio would cast a silent, sidelong glance to his trustworthy pet skunk, Pepe, who’d immediately busy himself with eliminating the problem. Pepe, like his owner, has a knack for romancing creatures of every species. After Pepe is put on the case, the only problem you get from that possum are labor screams soon after as that ugly rodent births a litter of skunk-possum hybrids – skussums.

2. someone mussed his hair in an attempt at a jovial, chummy greeting.

This could not be less of an issue to the superhuman Julio. First, no one is dense enough to attempt to greet Julio in such a disrespectful manner. There’s a certain decorum to be maintained. Such a greeting would equate to chest-bumping the Queen of England and shouting, “What up, hot stuff?” Also, if some lunatic were dead set on mussing his hair, Julio would allow it because, little known fact, each of El Julio’s hair follicles has an Adamantium skeleton. For those who are unfamiliar (feel free, like El Guapo, to consult a nerd dictionary), this material is the indestructible alloy that enables Wolverine (Xmen) to watch his wounds close almost as quickly as they open. So a mussing would result in the hair returning to its original position immediately. Try cutting a line through water and you will understand.

Comprehensive Immigration Solution: Shoot Them

This blasted Swine flu has made El Guapo think. This is a dangerous thing, amigo. Pardon my use of Spanish there, but when I get passionate, the Espanol slips through the cracks and the guayabera is removed entirely. This impulsive, irrational thinking is the hot-blooded yoke that my people wear, and your Guapo is no exception. And no one and nothing is safe when El Guapo throws on his thinker’s luchador mask, greases himself up, and engages in some Greco-Roman mind-wrestling with the issues of our day. Feel free to hold this image of a glistening, grappling Guapo in your thoughts as you read on. This is my gift to you, at no additional cost.

Disasters bring clarity. It’s the universe’s way of kicking us into a new plane of consciousness. Our realized fears and impending doom whittle away the crap that seemed real even a moment prior. Because of this, El Guapo and his Rosinante will go to the ends of the Earth to distill truth down to its purest. We are your humble whittlers. So, dear frijolero, I will say exactly what no dares to say, that which no one has the courage to shout with unflinching confidence. How does one solve the immigration problem?

Shoot them.

You read correctly. Shoot them.

Dead.

“But Guapo, are you saying what I think you’re saying? There’s no effing way, right? Guapo? I hope that this is some clever ruse, Guapo. For your own sake.”

Check your unruly, illogical nature at the door, my friend. We resist obvious solutions when we shackle ourselves blindly to emotionally based allegiances. Go against your nature, and listen to unbiased logic.

First, many would say, “But Guapo, corporations can go where they want with the greatest of ease in search of cheap labor and resources. Perchance it is hypocritical that we are almost solely concerned with the movement of labor in a similar fashion, when this labor is seeking refuge from the aftermath of a gluttonous, unregulated, globalized economy that overlooks a human component and is increasingly placing wealth in the hands of a select few. In fact, Guapo, aren’t we looking at the effects of corporate globalization and greed and calling that [the migration of labor] the problem?”

To this El Guapo replies: Your use of “perchance” and “hypocritical” in the same sentence underscores your own narcissistic nature, and your fifth grade analysis is cute, but gets us no where. Also – reality check -- corporations cannot carry communicable diseases. Therefore, they are harmless. The logic is indisputable.

And El Guapo knows that many will argue that shooting a human being is wrong in and of it self. But to this El Guapo says, “Who knows what kinds of nefarious diseases the mustache twirling men and women of Mexico will bring with them, wrapped in their ponchos, tucked under sombreros, or within an accordion.

This is war and in war people will die, and these deaths are necessary and require no further justification. Each man, woman, and child should be considered a biological weapon. We must protect our borders by whatever means necessary.

Side note to the incendiary Chicken Littles: Leave your paranoia at the door. It is not xenophobia to insist that all people of Latin American descent wear proof of legal residency and a recent medical evaluation on their chests. It is good common sense. Filipinos too. We can never be too safe. Think of the children. (Ours, not the ones being shot).

I think that you’ll find my logic inescapable if you think on it for a moment.

Your handsome and humble servant,
El Guapo

Of Swine and Cinco de Mayo

URGENT: Please forward this to your non-Latino friends…(and, on a side note…Why do you have non-Latino friends?...Are we not good enough?...)

Mexicans and Mexican Americans (and, in desperate times anyone from Central and South America) are a welcome (some would argue necessary) guest/accessory at most Cinco de Mayo festivities. If you manage to cajole a willing Mexican into joining your obnoxious friends as they bellow La Cuacaracha, gargle tequila, wear novelty sombreros, eat microwave taquitos, and try and use their 10^th grade conversational Spanish, it can reinforce the air of legitimacy that is a must for such an occasion to go off well. And if that Mexican you bring can be persuaded to smile and tap a Corona bottle against yours periodically or, ideally, tell a cool story about being Mexican, the Mexican (or closest facsimile) will altogether give you the street cred you seek and make your night a culturally relevant one. We think it’s tax deductible then. Ask your accountant.

However, please avoid any Mexican with historical knowledge with respect to Cinco de Mayo, because you may end up hearing some mind-numbing stories that will dampen your tequila induced buzz. Not to mention that some uppity Mexican will no doubt claim that this celebration of cultural heritage, this acknowledgment of a significant historical event, is nothing more than a beer company’s wet dream. But if you read the historical blurb on the Dos Equis coaster at the bar, you can shut that annoying jerk up and then tip your sombrero over your eyes and enjoy a siesta against the bar’s inflatable cactus.

Also, try to bring along a Mexican whose pigment is on the darker end of the spectrum (Benito Juarez/Diego Rivera or darker, (See Google images, for color palette)) since then you will not have to explain that he/she is a genuine Mexican. The last thing you need is a debate to break out while you’re trying to school your frat buddy at Golden Tee.

Despite the recent Swine Flu scare, it is strongly recommended that you do not try to proceed with any celebration without a Mexican present. The most recent reports from the CDC actually indicate that the best defense is tongue kissing as many Mexicans as possible, especially those sitting alongside muscle-bound, scowling, unsuspecting significant others (look for those with prison tattoos on their necks or tear drops tattooed near the eyes). Why this is so, has yet to be determined conclusively. However, some scientists postulate that the anti-virus lives on the uvula (look it up, cochino) of frightening Mexicans.

From El Guapo and your friends at eljumpingbean: We wish you a happy and prosperous Cinco de Mayo. May the Corona flow like a rushing river and the bowl of your soul overflow with chicharrones (look it up).

Former Head of McDonald’s Marketing Comes Clean About Latino Hamburgler

As evidence, our source sites this commercial which clearly shows the hamburglar involved in disreputable behavior of all sorts: disrupting an academic setting, stealing, and, most disturbingly, not having the common sense to try a more intelligent approach.

Portland, Oregon

Outside a non-descript coffee house in downtown Portland an elderly man who is asking to remain anonymous sips an iced coffee and offers up company secrets. He claims to have been behind McDonald’s Hamburglar character and many successful ad campaigns for the fast food giant. “I mean, it’s not that McDonald’s has ever truly struggled, but one group that we’ve coveted with a passion is the Hispanic market. In fact, behind the scenes we’ve been in a barroom brawl type research and development race with the other national chains for your affections. Seriously, we were this close [holds fingers a hairs width apart] to finding a way to deep fry cola, something considered to be a scientific impossibility. It's like the Holy Grail of fast food.”

“Well, since a disproportionate percentage of the prison population is Hispanic, we knew that there were plenty of hungry children growing up without male role models, so we slapped some prison stripes on some pajamas and merged zoot suit attire with a Zorro sorta thing and that’s all she wrote. We kept the Hamburglar’s hair and skin rather fair because research indicated that a darker character scared even minority children. And the ‘robble robble’ business came about because, quite frankly, when we flip past Telemundo that’s what we hear. No offense, of course. In any event, demographic gold is what we mined.” Many have argued that fast food companies bear some of the responsibility for Latino children falling through the floor and wheezing at the bottom of the pile when compared to other demographic groups with respect to obesity rates, juvenile diabetes, and other important health categories. “What do you want me to do? Minority Happy Meals bought that shiny imported car you see parked down yonder. I aims to keep it.”

After some arm twisting, our source reluctantly brought us to Gordon Panzabaja, a former Hamburglar who is still irate after being asked to turn in his stripes several years back. “Robble, robble,” he exclaimed in frustrated grunts, as he smoked a cigarette and drank out of a paper bag while ineffectively hiding from Constable McNubbler behind a very skinny tree. After we procured a translator we learned that, like the pop group Menudo, Hamburglars have a short shelf life. “The horizontal stripes are stupid to begin with and then they axe us when we gain some weight. I mean, they have us stealing burgers all day every day and then they act surprised when we put on a few. And now that damn Mayor McCheese and his cronies are out to make sure I don’t talk. F#@k him, you know?”

Unbeknown to us, as a result of a collaborative sting operation, Constable McNubbler waited for our interview to be over and then hopped out of a speeding Oscar Meyer Weiner Mobile with the monocled Mr. Peanut and clubbed Mr. Panzabaja with the exubernace of a Rodney King beating. Charges have yet to be filed.

Palpable, Awkward Silence When Woman Mistaken for Nanny

Yesterday El Guapo was mowing. It relaxes him. And here’s a little known related fact, El Guapo invented the Segway. Not the transition from one idea to another (segue), but the independent two-wheeled vehicle that moves a person from one place to another, the thing that makes the toughest thug look like a pigtailed school girl out for a joyride on a modified pogo stick. On his eighth birthday, your guapo received what every young Latino male receives to add to his landscaping arsenal at that age – the intensely yearned for lawnmower. But in true guapo style he modified it to suit his needs. 22-inch chrome, spinning rims. A rattling sound system that shakes the ground announcing his arrival ominously like a dinosaur out of Jurassic Park. Naked lady silhouette mud flaps. A windshield like Ponch used to rock on CHIPs. Both of the previous two enhancements serving practical purposes – not to mention that the windshield also allows the chance to adhere a scorpion decal and hang some fuzzy dice – making it damn manly. He finally slapped some pegs on the vehicle and rode it into the horizon, leaving perfectly manicured lawns in his dust. And even as a little guapo, he traveled and sought to right wrongs, to enlighten, to experience life in all its splendor.

But, back to yesterday.

Sometimes El Guapo just travels the Earth and observes, letting the gentle wind ruffle his hair net. And yesterday he rode past a local park where Rafaela Buendia pushed her young daughter on a swing. El Guapo was listening to the chirping birds and sounds of spring, when a palpably awkward moment silenced everything within a three block radius, and even the disease-ridden pigeons froze mid neck-strut in disbelief. Even his newly installed "La Cucaracha" horn stopped mid " 'racha". A fellow park mom approached Rafaela and struck up a conversation. She assumed Rafaela to be the little girl’s nanny. Upon being horrified to hear that Rafaela was, in fact, not a nanny, the woman changed the subject and asked Rafaela when she was due and put her hand on Rafaela’s abdomen. Rafaela informed the woman that she also, in fact, was not pregnant. The not pregnant woman became irate and quickly picked up her child and walked away. The embarrassed woman chased after Rafaela shouting “Consuelo, I’m so sorry."

In a related story, a local Latino man a block away was mistaken for an elotero when he put down his groceries to tie his shoe at a bus stop and an ear of sweet corn poked out of the top of the bag. A car pulled up and asked him for “a corn and a rice water.” The presumed elotero retorted with, “I got your elote, guey.” The frightened driver raced off and was spotted in front of a swanky restaurant handing his keys to a perplexed Dominican who was smoking outside waiting for his own car to be returned from the valet.



Your handsome and humble servant...
El Guapo

Resistance is Futile

El Guapo finds Mother Nature to generally be a hissing nag..."Oh, my beaches", "My ice caps are melting", "Stop driving your enormous SUV through my forests and running over raccoons", "Stop feeding the birds at the park bread packed with tiny shards of glass", etc., etc. And while the old lady might be a buzz kill, we can oft times learn a lesson or two if we tune out her bitching and just observe nature at work. For instance, everywhere you look things happen without effort as though part of some larger divine plan. The clip below is a clear example of what happens when a stupid animal goes against the current, in this case literally.


Of course, we must consider that the salmon fights its way upstream to spawn. Perhaps we can cut it some slack. It's trying to spawn after all. What would you do? I suspect you'd be in the same illogical spawning-induced frenzy.

But in recent years immigrant rights groups have organized exhausting marches and massive national gatherings. Opponents and proponents for gay rights and marriage have done the same, arguably with a better sense of style. In local communities walks are organized to "take back the streets" and to bring attention to domestic violence. Deodorantless frisbee lovers with long scraggly ZZ top beards protest wars and Wal-Mart. Participants wear matching shirts, perhaps shake a nice sign. Bob Barker still holds a lonely one man march to bring attention to the need for all to spay and neuter their pets. It seems that we have a fetish for walking. Loyal frijoleros (readers of eljumpingbean), everything cannot be solved with a nice stroll.

And you might say, "But, Guapo, the sort of collective resistance you mention is of critical importance. Are you actually trying to say that injustices should be uncontested? What about the progress resulting from such defiance throughout human history? Where would we be without it?"

To you I say, "Pendejo, watch the clips and see for yourself. It is simple. If you resist, the metaphorical bear will rip you to shreds after all of your exhaustion (above clip). If you go with the flow and let things go where they are destined to go, you will float on like the carefree fish in the clip below."



Your handsome and humble servant,
El Guapo

Quick Conversation with Angry Gang Member #3

HOLLYWOOD, California -

On the set of NBC's newest crime drama, Law and Order: Filthy Scumbags, Tomas Alvarez sat and sipped some Earl Grey tea with his pinky up. The gang tattoos that crawl up and down his arms were busily being touched up by the show's make-up crew. Tomas, a classically trained Shakespearean actor, has added to his lengthy television and film credits this past year. "2009 has been one busy year. I was Dead Thug #4 in NBC's Southland pilot, Scowling Drug Dealer #2 on an episode of House, Inmate #26 on Prison Break." He stopped to sip his tea, then continued, "I played Simba in the Lakeside Mall production of The Lion King, and I almost had the role of skilled Mexican-American heart surgeon Jose Tobasco on an upcoming Fox medical drama, Arterial Damages. That was before they cast Ashton Kutcher and renamed the character Joey Basco. So, all-in-all I'm living the dream."

Entertainment Weekly bestowed on him the coveted Minorities to Watch Award, which, unfortunately, contrary to how it may sound, warns those in the industry to keep an eye on their personal effects when Alvarez is on the set. "I take it as the highest honor. Clearly I'm so convincing at playing these roles that women fear me and clutch their purses and producers count every fork and spoon at the craft services table."

Cultural Code Cracking

El Guapo is a creature of habit. Thursdays he likes to do laundry as he watches novelas. And because he is trying to go green, he pulls up the hamper and uses his washboard abs as, well, a washboard. Although, truth be told, if he’s not incredibly careful, a whole basket of laundry can be ruined and shredded to ribbons by his symmetrical, jagged abdomen. But, invariably, just as he gets started, the doorbell rings and interrupts his domestic work and novelas. On this particular day, the scientists over at the eljumpingbean offices, the pencil-pushers who are locked in the boiler room with paperclips and Bunsen burners and who are fed some gray gruel, showed up excitedly at his door with modifications made to Rosinante (El Guapo’s ever-loyal lowrider) making it the first car converted to run off pure guaponess. Provided that this is quite the revolutionary achievement, the pocket protector wearing crew received an extra helping of gruel and a congratulatory pat on the head and were sent back from whence they came.

And just as your Guapo was getting back to his novela (and mind you it was getting good – at this juncture some scantily clad woman was smacking a burly man who wore a prominent 80’s porno mustache and threw sinister looks at the camera), the doorbell rang again. El Guapo’s pudgy neighbor, Pancho Sanza, arrived with the irate, befuddled look that is permanently etched onto his face, like one of those huge Olmec heads, like he’s angrily trying to determine the origin of a fart. Apparently, Pancho, an aspiring thespian, had gone to a commercial audition for a role described as “the guy next door” and actually being the guy next door, he figured he had it in the bag. At the gate however, a leathery blonde woman with a clipboard eyed him up and down like he had stepped in something foul and refused him admittance. To El Guapo, this underscored the dire need for some cultural code cracking:

Boy/guy/girl next door OR All-American

= Not you. Unless, of course, you are blonde and look like you stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch ad.

Example: “Reese Witherspoon, the pre-eminent girl next door (or all-American girl), has just wrapped her latest film, co-starring the spicy firecracker, Salma Hayek.”

Urban

= having to do with areas, activities, and other related issues connected to people of any collective hue darker than the beige crayola in the box.

Example: “Due to the fact that he went to an urban high school, little Antonio is functionally illiterate and enjoys stabbing others with rusty blades.”

Diverse

= there’s a black or brown person present or referred to

Example: “This party is diverse as hell. Look, there’s Maria, she’s ½ Guatemalan and ½ Kenyan. Sweet, it’s like the UN in here.”

Cultural Sensitivity/Awareness

= demonstrating (or at least feigning) an appreciation or inclusion of interests of other cultures.

Example: “Bro, I love tacos. They make me culturally aware…and they taste dandy.”

If perchance El Guapo overlooked something, please bring it to his attention.

Your handsome and humble servant,

El Guapo

Wise Words From El Guapo (The Only Kind of Words He Knows)

"If you like me and the material I think up, posterity will consider you to have had good taste."

~Aristophanes (while El Guapo nods vehemently and rocks b-boy stance)

Young Latino Male Found Reading (Not LowRider Mag)

The following report is based on information received from a reliable source. While the details are sketchy, we will keep you posted on developments as we receive them. Here's what we know. Our trusted source tells us that witnesses outside a Chicago area KrispyKreme possibly encountered something akin to the Sasquatch, Abominable Snowman, Chupacabras, or Loch Ness Monster of the Latino world. The witnesses saw a young man who, "kinda looked like Freddy Rodriguez" reading a book that several eye-witnesses said was definitely fiction. Although, it is unclear how witnesses made this determination. One witness, 72 year-old Nectarine O' Connor, said that she is fairly certain she saw one of those Oprah Book Club stickers on the cover. "The young man was so engrossed in the book,"Nectarine added, "that he didn't notice the growing crowd gathering around him. Gapers' delays and a standing crowd of approximately 120 were reported. Eventually, someone in the astounded and silent gathering sneezed. The man looked up and said, 'Bless you'. This broke the subject's concentration and he was gone like a gazelle fleeing a jaguar. He stuffed the book into his school bag, gave everyone the finger, and hopped on a northbound bus." When asked about the reader's race, another witness, Geronima Suarez said, "I'm pretty sure he was Latino. I dunno. He looked like my nephew Ricky. He could have been Greek or something though, I guess, but I'm pretty sure he was Hispanic. If that man hadn't sneezed, I'd be able to tell you with more confidence." Of course, accounts like this have been reported in recent years with no definitive proof thus far. Last year a hazy camera phone picture was taken outside a Seatle cafe, but a team of specialists remain unconvinced. It was proven inconclusive and possibly doctored. We will continue to follow the investigation as it proceeds.

Chavelo’s top 10 Recession-Proof Interviewing Tips

Greetings loyal frijoleros. El Guapo has never needed to search for employment. As a matter of fact, he often has to hide from the stupid Ford Modeling people who hide in his bushes and throw stacks of hundred dollar bills at him and try to snag him with traps baited with hand mirrors and hair products. For the last time Ford cabrones, El Guapo will live off his looks no longer (shaking fists angrily). So, El Guapo seeing the desparate need for interview tips in such a climate, thought of you and delegated the topic to El Creido, el paletero who stops by the eljumpingbean offices during break times. El Creido, in turn, interviewed his Tio Chavelo to come up with the following list. Unfortunately, during the brainstorm session, Chavelo was fired for using company time to come up with top ten lists.

10.. Make sure you show up on time! The “Mexican-time” excuse has been leaked out to the Gringos and they are on to us!

9. The poncho is apparently not suited for job interviews no mores. Huaraches are also frowned upon.

8. Please don’t smear beans or any type of grease on the application—speaking of applications, there is something called a resuma or resumi (something like that) ask somebody about it and get one. I hear it’s better than just filling out the application.

7. When speaking to the interviewer, make eye contact! I know your mami told you not to look at adults in the eye cuz its disrespectful, but this is something they like.

6. Make sure you shave or trim you bigote a bit; you don’t wanna look like an Arab or nothing, at least not right now, or else the terrorists have won.

5. Tell your baby-mama or baby-daddy to stay in the car and wait for you, they don’t like it when your entourage enters with you. (Entourage, mira muy chignon!)

4. When they ask you about your work history, don’t tell them about the time you were caught stealing aguacates for the cook-out, they don’t care that they are almost $2 a piece!

3. Make sure you bring your mica with you or at least go and buy one prior to the interview, people aren’t that interested in hiring mojados no mores.

2. One more thing about your work history, don’t mention that time when you tried to sleep with your white boss in a sad attempt at becoming a legalized resident or citizen.

1. DON”T ask for a stimulus package before being offered a job and DON’T ask them to kiss your stimulus package if you don’t get the job!

I hope this helps my peoples during these hard times. I have had the same job for 25 years working as a chef (ok I prepare schools lunches), and I have been asked by all my tios, tias, and primos to help them out, so in that effort, I figured this would help you too, ok bye!

EJB Exclusive: El Cariῇoso, A Sensitive Narco

Disclaimer: While El Guapo fears no one, he wants to make sure that everyone, particularly any and all members of any and all drug cartels, recognizes that the following has been given El Carinoso’s seal of approval – a real seal where a Carebear stands before a rainbow while holding a butterfly.

Your fearless El Guapo was picked up outside an abandoned shack in the small border town of Villa Ahumanda, Mexico, an embattled war zone where drug cartels are making their presence known through much publicized shenanigans (by shenanigans we mean murdering and terrorizing competing cartels and innocents alike). With all this upheaval, El Guapo wore a nondescript poncho and his signature luchador mask (the one he dons when he wants to avoid the inevitable drooling crowd of women). He left his loyal lowrider Rosinante running and in the care of a young boy with a shoe shine box (but, ironically, no shoes of his own to speak of).

A fully loaded SUV that looked like it had just been driven off the lot approached from the horizon leaving clouds of dirt in its path, and out poured short men with gold medallions, silk shirts, and crisp white cowboy hats. While these men reminded El Guapo of the lollipop kids from the Wizard of Oz, they did not sing, smile, or seem intent on being in anyway hospitable. Their enormous silver belt buckles were emblazoned with the images of Santa Muerte and Malverde, the Narco’s patron saint. These men threw a bag over El Guapo’s head and proceeded to take the intrepid journalist on a silent, ominous drive to an undisclosed location.

El Guapo was duct taped to a cheap chair in a sun-drenched room and allowed a few moments with El Carinoso, a flourishing narcotraficante who requested a meeting with the legendary El Guapo to challenge the unfair image being perpetuated by the media on both sides of the border. This was, the narco communicated, the first stage in a complete public relations blitz campaign, complete with a mascot and plans for an amusement park for the kids to enjoy.

El Carinoso approached El Guapo and shook Guapo’s bound hands with his own extended, jewel-encrusted hand. El Carinoso smelled of lavender and wore a pair of alligator skin boots, Burmuda shorts, and a shirt that read “Franky Says Relax”.

“I do not enjoy death and suffering. I am no animal. You are here to see this, to hear with your two good ears what your whorish and unjust media fails to relate,” El Cariῇoso’s hands trembled with rage as he held his tropical drink. The little purple paper umbrella was knocked about the rim of the glass as he grew angrier and angrier. “They paint us as ruthless, as lacking a moral compass, as uneducated goons who slaughter on a whim. Military generals who kill and maim effectively and efficiently are honored in history books, are glorified by your media, and are passed on as benevolent warriors. Consider the hypocrisy. As we provide employment to thousands upon thousands and protect our interests, we are simply murderous bastards. This is rather convenient, no? Has every war been fought for a just cause? It depends who you ask, doesn't it?”

At this point our hero’s all-knowing eyes noticed that on his eyelids El Cariῇoso displayed a tattooed a heart and a smiley face on respective lids. So when he blinked quickly, you couldn't help but smile. “Your Presidents and politicians kill civilians in pursuit of economic aims, do they not? They lay on their disgust rather thick, but how different are we? To claim a moral high ground seems a bit of a stretch. Who draws these lines separating necessary violence from justified violence? Your culture, your media adores simplicity. For instance, I am not a fighter. I love. What am I but an entrepreneur? ‘Supply and demand’. ‘The market’. These are my gods, as they are yours. Your economy crumbles because your leaders are noble, your aims divine? These gods of ours have created poverty and death. We pray at the same altar. Do not think otherwise. ”

Somewhere during the rest of this self-rationalizing rant El Guapo became bored of the rhetoric. Eventually, El Guapo fell asleep peacefully, like some blissful, ruggedly handsome cherub. This infuriated El Cariῇoso, who then tried to unmask our hero. El Guapo’s eyes shot open, locked with the narco, and El Guapo was then respectfully, and immediately driven back to his Rosinante. Such is the power of El Guapo. He drove his steed into the sunset to seek his next adventure.

La Reconquista

The time is upon us. Those of Mexican decent have waited patiently since The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo (February, 2 1848), a treaty whose terms were dictated by The United States and resulted in the loss of 55% of Mexico's pre-war territory. The patient seeds of rebellion have fermented in anger through consecutive generations and have grown into one pissed tree that's about to fall on some unsuspecting motherf#@!ers. El Guapo is honored to have been unanimously selected as your leader in this endeavor. This is a complex operation, and I assure you some brilliant minds seem to be on to us, and their analytical skills are astounding and filed down to a diamond point:


With this type of keen analysis and nuanced thinking, we must step softly. This woman is both skeletorishly beautiful and wise beyond description. There's no way she's human.

We must all smile stupidly and try to look harmless in the duration. Perhaps, you can bat a yarn ball around like a cute kitty if anyone seems to suspect anything.

We are in the final throes of economic collapse - a clear indication that our dastardly plan is developing beautifully. In the kitchens of Olive Gardens everywhere men are sharpening blades and turning up the volume on radios, blaring obnoxious Spanish-speaking morning DJs as the apron-clad groups synchronize watches and mumble suggestions to one another about the most efficient ways to kill and maim and the many ways to use a filthy apron as a lethal weapon. In picket-fenced suburban homes, Latina nannies who've taught blond and red-headed children to fear the chancla and el cucuy are prepping the homes for use in the insurrection. Landscapers are mowing symbols into lawns to guide invading aircraft packed with criminals and the disease ridden to their destinations - where they will be dropped like so many biological bombs.

In fact, need we be reminded that this whole financial debacle was set off by our strategically placed economic insurgents disguised as janitorial workers who clicked a mouse a couple times on some executive computers and then BAM here we go...back to The Stoneage. You all know your assignments, so please begin the final stage of Operation Reconquest.

When the dust settles, we will corral any dissenters in Utah or launch them into Canada one at a time.
Everyone must do their part. Mexican drug lords are doing what they can to burn Mexico to the ground. Like Cortez destroyed his ships upon arrival to ensure success, so we shall annihilate Mexico to underscore the urgency and the fact that there is no turning back. Wax your sinister handlebar mustaches, mi gente. Victory is ours.

And remember...shhhhhh. Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Jose, Can You See? / Kryptonite Speedo

Recently, many have voiced their pleasure/displeasure/excitement/dismay over developments in the Illinois State General Assembly regarding bill SB1557 which would amend the school code in Illinois effective January 1, 2010 and require

every public elementary school and high school to include in its curriculum a unit of instruction studying the events related to the forceful removal and illegal deportation of almost 2,000,000 Mexican-American U.S. citizens during the Great Depression, beginning in 1929 and ending in the mid-1940's.

Introduced by Illinois Senator William Delgado, the bill is a disastrous and short-sighted change, and El Guapo is jumping in his loyal lowrider, Rosinante, throwing on his swankiest hairnet, opening the top two buttons on his most elegant guayabera (two open buttons means business, my friend), nestling his best gold medallion comfortably into his copious chest hair, and heading down to Springfield to put an end to the madness.

“But, Guapo,” you say, “what problem could there possibly be with what is surely an attempt to address a significant missing chapter of the nation’s history? How could this be anything but positive, nay, necessary? If anything, it has been a long time coming.”

For the simple-minded it would appear this way. If you are this brainless, perhaps you’d prefer to stop reading now and go back to eating paint chips or whatever it is you do. But, of course, you can count on El Guapo to shake up paradigms and poke topics from every conceivable perspective (and even some perspectives that are not conceivable). Let’s proceed.

Frijoleros, let us explore some basic logic:

• First, invisibility is a trait that is desirable. This is indisputable. Every human on the planet has at one point or another pondered the endless possibilities that come with being invisible. It is the stuff of comic book superheroes.
  

• Second, Latinos have been blessed with being virtually invisible in many facets of society.
  

So, clearly, any pendejo can see that U.S. Latinos are as a result, in many respects, superheroes. But some would ruin this for the rest of us by wanting us scribbled into the margins of a history book. It’s like Superman voluntarily wearing a Kryptonite Speedo…

Turduckens of Mystery: El Guapo and the Frijoleros

A turducken is a dish consisting of a partially de-boned turkey stuffed with a de-boned duck, which itself is stuffed with a small de-boned chicken.

Who is this masked man who smokes his pipe pensively, strokes his chin, and enlightens with every syllable uttered, every word typed? Who is this El Guapo and why has he only recently surfaced. What is his aim? And just how Guapo is he? Much has been asked about El Guapo, eljumpingbean, and these damn frijoleros who have begun to take over the world through a deliberate and methodical global movement.

El Guapo and his band of misanthropic Frijoleros have been described as turduckens of mystery. They are an enigma shoved inside the hollowed out carcass of a riddle and finally crammed violently into the deboned cavern of a conundrum....all of this, of course, served with a generous cucharada of refried beans.

Let's begin with his Guaponess. How Guapo is this man who does not post his image for all to see? First, rest assured that he is the most guapo, the guapo-est if you will. But he has learned that his ideas, regardless of how brilliant (and, they are always illumined and prophetic) will not be ingested if folks are entranced by his indescribable, overwhelming, and rugged beauty. Such is the double-edged sword.

As for his aim...well, that is something else altogether. El Guapo seeks collective enlightenment. He walks the world with his loyal band of frijoleros and shares his divine message - like a Jehovah's Witness, except rather than hiding and drawing the curtains, the world drinks his words like a thirsty desert. He angers and entertains. He enlightens through frustration. He questions the seemingly unquestionable. He kicks ideas around until they lie in an unrecognizably bloody pulp.

And, "Why now, El Guapo?" you ask, "Why do you step forth from the fog now?" The answer to that is simple.

It is time.

Humanity needs El Guapo. His cross is heavy, but he wears it like a medallion buried in his chest hair. He embraces stereotypes until they lie there dead and twitching. Books shall be written about this legendary figure, children shall be named after him, and schools dedicated to his teachings.

World domination is inevitable. Join El Guapo or prepare to lie there steamrolled flat by his followers like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon.

Xenophobia, Love It or Leave It, Cabron

Xenophobia is an intense dislike and/or fear of people from other countries. It comes from the Greek words ξένος (xenos), meaning "foreigner," "stranger," and φόβος (phobos), meaning "fear." The term is typically used to describe a fear or dislike of foreigners or of people significantly different from oneself.

Recent events in the nation have really made for a reflective period in which the very certainties that have for so long been taken for granted are now unexpectedly up for grabs. Someone has taken a shiny pin and popped the balloon. It's a gut check, if you will (even if you won't). It's a time where folks are being tossed for a bumpy ride. Many are using and will continue to use this period of instability to rile up emotions, to seek convenient scapegoats, and to pin our collective fears on something tangible. This is not new. We should come to expect that xenophopia and human susceptibility to xenophobia rises in proportion to adversity. Logic, compassion, and level-headed discourse of any type are often the first victims of a lot of vitriolic knee-jerking and gum-flapping. This is as it should be. Discard the group hug mentality and start finding which racial, ethnic, or religious group is the cause of your sorrows. When in doubt, create a twister type spinner and let fate decide the reason you were laid off. Invading hordes of sinister foreigners is a popular choice. Try it on, see how it fits.

So, for the love of all that is holy, and even all that is not.... for the sake of our collective sanity, let us at least keep our xenophobia. Fight the urge to feel a collective unity during these troubling times. That's knee jerk compassion and empathy talking. The last thing we need is that stuff getting in the way. Let us hold on to our fears of those different from ourselves and let that drive our decision-making. Ask yourself, "What group could I blame?"

We need stability at times like this and xenophobia is where it's at. (Didn't see that one coming, did you?) This hatred of outsiders has been sitting like an anchor in the national psyche for a long time, keeping this country right where it needs to be. If we don't define others as the problem, how can we be define ourselves as the solution?

As is usually the case, we sometimes need someone stronger, just plain better than ourselves to model that courage and fortitude, so that we can then emulate and stay the course. Who are we if not a people who can blame all our issues on other people, people unlike us? Let us not lose our way. Keep that finger pointed elsewhere. Look to the shining beacons of hope that are Rush Limbaugh and Lou Dobbs, for instance. These men take tough stands and spread xenophobia like they spread butter on their rolls - generously. Xenophobia is the key to weathering this storm. Love it or leave it, cabron.

When Times Are Tough, Ask: What Would Julio Iglesias Do? (2)

When Times Are Tough, Ask: What Would Julio Iglesias Do? (2)

The man who laid the groundwork for the evolutionary leap that is El Guapo.

While not surprising, eljumpingbean's "What Would Julio Iglesias Do?" segment has become so popular that our inboxes have been flooded to capacity and the mailrooms at the eljumpingbean national offices have vomited into every available crevice (not like that, cochino/a). Clearly now, unlike any other time in recent memory, the divine wisdom that shines from the legendary Julio Iglesias is obscenely urgent and Julio is the lighthouse that, if we heed the divine wisdom, can keep us from smashing our individual and collective boats against the rocks.

Some of you have written us with your personal scenarios, asking us the simple but profound question: What would Julio Iglesias do?

If Julio Iglesias got his kite stuck in a tree...

...Julio would place his hand on the small of the tree's back (Most people don't know that a tree even has a back, much less an area that could be called the small of the back, but this is Julio and Julio knows this and so much more about everything, including botany, way more than even the the most expert botanist. For instance, in Wyoming there is an entire forest that Julio visited once where the pines now have wonderful mullets and draw birds in with their silky, honeyed, beckoning voices.) Anyway, he'd place his hand on the tree's back, sing a few notes and the tree would absolutely swoon and just like keel over and offer up the kite (Again, not like that, cochino. We really do mean "kite". It's not a euphemism. Seriously, wipe that smirk off your face. Show some respect.).


If Julio Iglesias traveled through a wormhole and encountered himself in a parallel dimension...

...both Julios would have to fight the urge to seduce the other dimension counterpart. And, like matter and antimatter colliding, existence as we know it could be jeopardized through the sheer encounter of pure, unrefined amazingness pitted against pure, unrefined amazingness.


If Julio Iglesias was laid off after years of faithful service...

...he'd start drinking, like the rest of us would, except, unlike the rest of us, a tribe of scantily-clad women would arrive out of nowhere, carry him off on their shoulders and give him employment - if you know what I mean. (Now, it's exactly what you're thinking, cochino).


If Julio Iglesias was on a plane and the pilot and co-pilot died...

...Julio would calmly stare off into the distance through the window and all around the world people would perceive his dilemma intuitively and immediately run outdoors and form a human net on which the plane would land. Sure some of the folks on the ground might not make it, but some things are worth it.

Smell Test (When Does Satire Go Bad?)

Smell Test (When Does Satire Go Bad?)

Hey...you. Vato, you there...Yes, you...step out of your lowrider, please. Can you, perchance, turn down your rattling car stereo and bring your scary friend along. Yeah, that guy right there next to you with his greased back hair and the laugh-now-cry-later-tattoo on his forearm. Not that guy. The other guy. The guy with the tattooed teardrops.

I'd like to ask you both some questions...Oh, sure, you can bring your teenage bride and your eight kids along. Oh, that's cute. I didn't know they made working lawnmowers that tiny. Oooohh how adorable- they have tiny chrome, spinning rims and everything? 22s? Impressive. By the way, I think you dropped your rosary behind you. Oops, and now your sawed-off shotgun, too. No, of course, I'll be brief . Yes, I understand you have a gang meeting to go to. You're the president? Outstanding. Of course. Sir?... Sir?... Oh, come on now! Where in heck did that cactus and sombrero come from? For peetsake, it's winter in Chicago...And why are you napping now? You're gonna catch a cold, sir. Can't that wait? Your children have gathered near my car and I think they're stealing my tires and leaving it on blocks...I'm convinced the smallest one is attempting to distract me with some elaborate ethnic dance or something of the sort. So, anyway. I would like to pick your brain about satire.... No, I said "SATIRE". You don't know what that is?... Really?... No, I just wanted to pick your brain about whether it can go too far - satire that is. May I begin? Okay...stop. That's fine. sirs, please remain seated, this lawn is already immaculately manicured, please put down the weedwhacker and the Corona. I'll proceed if you don't mind...Anyway - is it okay to use our satirical stick to gouge and jab at everything - including stereotypes and other things that might be construed as off limits? When does the satire cross into racism and general insensitivity? Oh no. Your eyes are glazing over...Have I lost you? What if I shake these colorful maracas and wear this fruit hat, like so? Look, I'm Carmen Miranda. Look. Look. No, I assure you - I am in no way affiliated with immigration or any law enforcement agency. I'll take your silence as a sign that you are pondering my question. You are pondering, yes? Let me add some more: Does it matter who the authors and audience of this potentially offensive satire is? In other words, can only Latinos make Latino jokes without reprisal? Is it like an "inside joke" sort of thing? Where are the lines drawn? Pardon me, sir, but I think that your wife or girlfriend is currently beating a child aganst another child...Oh, she says it's because she lost her chanclas and isn't wearing a belt and can find no suitable extension cords or wire hangers nearby? Okay, as long as you're aware. Well...I'll try to proceed. Another query --- Should we (anybody) even be laughing at these things? What is being gained through such excerises? Sirs... sirs..sirrs...please...I think one of your infants just stabbed me in the kidney with a rusty blade...Could I bother you to call an ambulance? I'm bleeding quite profusely....wake up, please wake up.....okay...now stop celebrating and patting him on the back...it's getting cold..oh, so cold...

http://eljumpingbean.blogspot.com/

Can We Just Have The Old Racism Back? This Beta Version Isn't Working Out

We know you called no take backs, but El Guapo and the folks at eljumpingbean are begging to be done with this new, improved racism. It's like Pepsi Clear (remember the short-lived rampage that companies were on in the 80's where they thought we wanted to see through everything?) Anyway, like Pepsi Clear we tried it and we no likey. We'd much prefer a return to our old, worn (but oddly comfortable), run of the mill in-your-face variety of racism.

Nothing like a burning effigy with a big sombrero, wrapped in a Mexican flag to let you know where you stand. Here at eljumpingbean, we like to know where we stand. Instead, what do we get now? Well, plenty of well and not so well-intentioned folks say wonderfully mysterious things that are far too cloaked or ambiguous or wrapped in some serious, transparent racial-guilt.

"I love Latinos."
(All of us? Really? Even we don't like all of us. Glad you like us all though.)

"You're not like a regular Mexican, though. You're different. You know what I mean?"
(No. We don't. At all. But we'd love to keep watching as you awkwardly explain yourself.)

"Did you make these taquitos?"
(Really? I mean the box is right here. Look. You saw me take them out of the freezer and put them into the microwave.)

"Your culture is so lively, so spicy."
(Thanks, but that's not our culture - it's a Taco Bell chimichanga that you covered with a packet of salsa.)

"Oh, but I married a Puerto Rican."
(Oh, sh*t, my fault. Say whatever racist thing you want then, because since you married a Latino, you are wrapped in a cloak of Latino invincibility.)

Let us go back to when we were OTHER and neighbors moved out to the suburbs as soon as you walked the neighborhood with the realtor. Those were simpler times. Let us go back.

Message to Your Local News Crews: Stop Interviewing That Pendejo

This is the guy that is often sought for comment. He rarely conducts interviews.

Message to Your Local News Crews: Stop Interviewing That Pendejo

Near the Corner Store -
Latinos across the country have been listening eagerly to El Guapo's advice. The newest Guapo-inspired drinking game, for instance, has become so popular that Parker Bros. and Milton Bradley are in an unprecedented bidding war for the rights to make it into the next classic. Tentatively entitled "Boracho" (Bow-Ra-Cho) the game is interactive and has players watch the local news and take a shot of their libation of choice anytime the news crew interviews a complete and utter moron. Players take three shots when the pendejo in question is black or Latino. There will be a big Surgeon General's warning on the box, since you will be sh*tfaced in a matter of moments.

Eljumpingbean's investigative team has finally concluded their investigation of media coverage in minority neighborhoods and has proven that your local news crew does intentionally pick the dumbest minority representative in a given batch of witnesses. "Naw, es que guat happened is uh she dun ranned pasted pero fast and sh*t, you know. Hey, can I throw a shout out for my shorteez and my baby mamas. Holla. Anyways, es que she like supposably was going asi, like fast. Pero the otro car went ou' of the el parking lot asi all slow about it...." This excerpt of an interview is not damning in and of itself until you realize that the incident took place outside of a conference for Latino Genius Grant recipients, and the reporters chose the one guy holding the forty, who, in fact, was the only person who did not witness the incident. Oh, and he had stumbled mistakenly into the conference looking for Little Psyko Killa, his homey who had had to take a crazy piss and then never came back to the lowrider.

EJB Science Corner: The New, Improved Pinto Bean

EJB Science Corner: The New, Improved Pinto Bean

CHIPANCINGO DE LOS BRAVO, Mexico
Many cultures have recognized the many nutritional benefits of the magically simple legume, the pinto bean, but this week a Mexican mad scientist - together with his Bunsen burners, his beakers, and his tub of crema, supercharged the Mexican staple with some slight genetic modifications.

The pinto bean or frijol (free-hole) has historically been recognized as a natural and potent source of many critical vitamins and minerals. Many US Latinos, particularly those with Mexican roots, easily recognize the countless benefits of the run-of-of-the-mill frijol and continue to use it as the ever present side dish. Many in this group have been known to eat all entrees with a full ladle from the ubiquitous pot on the back burner. It is not uncommon to see pizza, a Big Mac, a ham sandwich, or pasta served with a mound of frijoles.

Just a few of the aforementioned benefits of the pinto bean:

• Increased fertility...Yep, that's why Ximena had 6 kids before she was out of high school. She wasn't lying when she swore she was still a virgin. Some guy sneezed towards her on the subway.
  
• Super strength...That's right asshole, be rude to the valet and eventually he'll tear your arms off and beat you with them.
  
• Superior intelligence...nuff said?
• Ability to leap 16 feet and 1 inch (US/Mexico border fence is 16 ft at it's highest....stupid stupid stupid)
• Ability to use hands to burrow far into even the most rocky terrain (Keep building the fence higher and higher)

Many claim that cultures with historically frijol-dependent diets are on the cusp of an evolutionary breakthrough that the rest of civilization will not undergo for thousands of years. It is unclear what this might entail.

When asked what the genetic modifications will do to the already nutritious and delicious frijol, the mad scientist said, "Not much. Now the bean will grow and will produce its own internal lard in order to make refrying a cinch."

Want your FREE-JOL delivered? Sign up for eljumpingbean's feed or email delivery at no charge at http://eljumpingbean.blogspot.com .

Latinos, Support Your Talented, Talentless and Even Stupid

Latinos, Support Your Talented, Talentless and Even Stupid
Support your Latino talented and, begrudgingly, your talentless.

From The Guapo Cave

A local man confronted El Guapo this week. And, yes, El Guapo is used to being confronted for a myriad of reasons: crazy fans wanting to touch him or rip a piece of clothing or have him kiss their babies, women driven wild by his guaponess, magazines trying to get him to agree to be on their covers, perfume companies trying to study and bottle his pheromones, sad men trying to be schooled in the ways of El Guapo (scoff...as if El Guapo were a university) etc. etc.

However, this particular case was something altogether different. The local man in question wanted to discuss the state of Latino culture's representation in the media and in U.S. culture at large. Oh, that's right, being this handsome and modest people tend to forget that, yes, El Guapo is also a scholar and a mind to be reckoned with. He is as sharp as a surgeon's scalpel and as blunt and powerful with his words as a sledge hammer on your unsuspecting forehead.

The Latino man began by railing against any and every Latino/a who has garnered any mainstream attention in the past decade, any film or song that's been made, and all Latino authors and artists who've been in the spotlight - even momentarily. While many of his criticisms were legitimate observations - stereotypical projections, exploitive and insipid depictions, the claim that many were talentless, etc. etc. El Guapo allowed this man to run out of steam, because stopping a Latino (or anyone for that matter) mid-rant is worse than waking up a sleepwalker.

El Guapo calmly explained that there are countless stupid and talentless people of all races, colors, and creeds, and that many do achieve what could be argued is undeserved notoriety. But since Latinos are relatively non-existent in mainstream culture despite having some serious consumer spending clout and sheer numbers, it is important that we support our morons, our hacks, and our pendejos who inexplicably crack through (along with the talented). But why, El Guapo, why must I support people and work that is inferior, even insulting? At this point, it's all we got. Perhaps, if there was evidence of overwhelming solidarity we might see more Latino non-crap reaching larger audiences. Dare to dream. Dare to dream.

Begin the movement by supporting El Guapo and the talent at eljumpingbean.

...Oh, wait, let me clarify...I mean...support your gifted, divine talent like El Guapo FIRST and ALONG WITH the rest.

For a free "I Support My Latino Stupids" T-shirt, take one of your old T-shirts and write "I Support My Latino Stupids" on the front and draw an unflattering picture of your favorite Latino hack on the back.

Cultural Impasse II: Electric Boogaloo

Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo

Turbo and Ozone were prophets, the patron saints of race - ambassadors of tolerance.
Let's continue to explore the cultural differences that hinder race relations, that obstruct brother-(and sister-) hood. This week we continue our path towards unity, towards our cultural and racial group hug.

Cultural Impasse II: Electric Boogaloo

We don't understand white folks' fascination with frisbee sports and The Dave Matthews Band, and we don't think Caddy Shack is the greatest movie ever. Also, we don't get the matching family sweater on the Christmas card. Where do we go from here?

How can we come together unless we understand our differences. Here at eljumpingbean, as a way to bridge the gap, we want to hear the things that leave you scratching your head about another race. Let's try to get to know and understand each other. Knowledge is power. The more you know, the more you grow. One potato, two potato, three potato, four. [And other trite cliches]

I have yet to get a satisfactory answer as to why Dane Cook is entertaining...please ask your local Caucasian on my behalf. Please. It truly irks El Guapo more than he'd care to admit.

Similarly, African-Americans- I don't get R. Kelly. At all. Forget the peeing on a minor thing. I mean in terms of talent. Perhaps he is a talented urinator? Help me understand.

Emails have poured in asking Latinos to do some splainin' themselves. While I am qualified to speak on the behalf of all Latinos (We voted, remember? Perhaps you missed that meeting. It was run on Anglo time.) I will open the floor to any and everyone who may disagree (or agree) with my responses.

One Ms. Crackershank doesn't understand why her Latina coworker can never make it anywhere on time. "Is this a cultural thing?" she asks.

Ms. Crackershank, the answer is yes. What we have here is a cultural safety mechanism that is hardwired into most Latinos. Latinos are Mestizos - a combo of Amerindian and European ancestry, generally. Many of these Amerindian tribes had a very complex view of time and were immensely advanced in this respect. However, upon colonization and subjugation there was a significant cultural shift. When the colonizers announced that they were giving away free blankets, the Amerindians said, "Awhellsnaw" [common Amerindian expression of disbelief that is still used commonly to this day, as in "Awhellsnaw, that bitch didn't say that."] and they lined up around the block. [Yes, we've always flocked to free stuff] So, those who were first in line got their blankets and laughed at and flicked off their friends at the back of the line who had arrived late and had missed out. They went home, snuggled under the blanket, and then - you guessed it - soon after died of smallpox. So, who got the last laugh? [ignoring that the survivors were killed, raped, and enslaved --- but, thankfully, no smallpox blanket]

So, Ms. Crackershank, your friend is, as a result, hardwired to be suspicious and late to everything. Most Latinos will arrive late to a party because if anyone is going to drop dead from something in an Appletini it sure as hell is not going to be them. I hope this sheds some light on the issue and helps you understand your coworker.

Here at eljumpingbean we strive to get at the naked truth...and then point and laugh at it...for the benefit of human kind.

Univision Planning Judicious, Money-Saving Boob Cut-backs

Univision Planning Judicious, Money-Saving Boob Cut-backs

MIAMI, Florida

Economic troubles have ransacked virtually every media network in existence and have made budget slashing a necessary byproduct in boardrooms across the country. Countless long-respected newspapers and magazines have been threatened with extinction. Powerhouse Spanish broadcast television network Univision has not been spared and is currently looking at ways to tighten their belt as the United States economy endures difficult economic times - significantly affecting both ad revenue and, as a result, increasing stock holders desires that something be f-ing done already.

With a full 30% of production costs of Univision programming being spent on cleavage and cleavage-related expenditures, it quickly became a focal point of the game-plan for Chief Financial Officer Don Francisco (unexpected, I know), who commented that, "definitively, something's got to give." At this point in the interview, he shouted, "Y que dice el publico?" to an empty room.

"There is a balance that we must fight to maintain. No one is denying this. People have expectations when they watch our programming. We have a boob quota, just like we have other things that our viewers expect. For instance, they expect programs where women play the disturbing roles of sexualized school girls and male comedians play perverted schoolboys. While the possibility of serious cuts has become highly contentious, we must maintain these quotas in order to remain a viable network," an unidentified network source reported.

Sources claim that the network is experimenting with computer generated boobs and with potentially running a hooter ticker-tape feed like some of the news and sports networks run scores and story summaries. "Male cleavage is definitely cheaper," Don Franscisco argues. "When possible, we may use overweight men to supplement our boob count and keep costs down."

When asked if it might be a good time to steer away from these misogynistic depictions of women and even produce more thoughtful content, our source laughed so hard that we had trouble getting back on track...and we eventually became frustrated and stopped trying.

Problematic Japanese Proverb

Fall down seven times, get up eight. Japanese Proverb Oye me ...Excuse me my Japanese comrades...I need clarification. While I am not a physician, if you are falling this much, it would probably behoove you to get checked for inner ear issues. And...wouldn't you only have to get up seven times? That's all...short and sweet.