A Coconut’s Guide to Getting (and/or Keeping) His/Her Street Cred

There are many subtle categories on the Latino continuum, and we here at the eljumpingbean offices recognize that eljumpingbean is the face, voice, and mind of all shades along this complex and profoundly nuanced range. (We have a unanimously signed petition proving this.) So what’d we do for you underserved Coconuts? Those of you who grew up in the suburbs and at some point began to sigh audibly when another Gutierrez or Torres showed up in your junior high class? Those who stop at Pepe’s and Taco Bell to occasionally touch base with your heritage? You have to compete in a cut-throat economy, in a business world where you have to dance the razor’s edge between “handling yours” and sidestepping the off chance you might ratchet up the anxiety of your coworkers/employers/employees.

Well, you are a unique animal, Coconut. Fear not, though. We brought in a consultant to provide valuable advice to those of you who desire to be respected in the mean streets of the inner city (the barr-i-o) and the demanding workforce.

~“N’shit” – Throw it in after a statement, particularly one laden with words you learned in school (or from a book, or from someone who read a book once, or from a book jacket). Keep your mind sharp and your tongue sharper.

  • "It was downright iridescent…umm… N’shit."
  • " We pursued litigation only when they failed to comply…N’shit”
  • "The poet was at the forefront of transcendental thought … N’shit.”

A good snarl never hurt anyone...

~Bring something commonly thought to be foul at least once a week for lunch: lengua, menudo, cesos (or something with an equivalent yuck-factor.)

~Tuck your Better Homes and Gardens inside a Lowrider Magazine cover.

~Shank the guy who asks the questions at the end of the meeting and makes it run long.

Wear a guayabera (with or without sandals) for casual Friday (Let the chest hair fly. Ladies, we're talking to you too.” (Don’t worry about the direct or “All Employees” memo about inappropriate attire that you know is indiscreetly directed at you and you alone. It won’t arrive, and if it does, bluff a racial insensitivity lawsuit. Watch the fold.)

Say things like “That’s not how we handled it in prison.” (Even if you’re referring to something like collating.)

~When you go to Whole Foods, act like you’re lost and hungry. “What’s this hummus crap? I guess I'm starving, so I'll try it.”

~Show up at the flea market once in a while. What? You’re too good for that shit? Snob.

~Two words: Neck tattoo

~Act like you don't have the faintest idea what pesto is

We hope we have been of service.


Latinos Find The Internet….

An extensive new study funded and conducted by the eljumpingbean research department has unearthed some revealing facts about Latinos, technology, the internet, the blogosphere, and social media. First, after some digging we discovered that contrary to popular belief, Latinos were early adopters when it came to social media, and, in fact, may have been well ahead of the curve in many capacities. While revolutionary sites like Facebook and Twitter allow friends and businesses to stay in touch via an array of methods, it is not too different from what already exists in many urban Latino communities - that shrill Morse code whistle (pinkies under both sides of the tongue) used to pierce the neighborhood and let everyone know you’re going to the corner store.

To help Latinos avoid some common pitfalls in these areas, our researchers analyzed the data and compiled the following helpful list of don’ts when it comes to all the gadgets and services available.

  • Google “cock fight”. While your cultural love for battles between evenly matched fighting roosters with razor talons may be insatiable, you might want to take our word on this one. Our intern is still sobbing inconsolably and rocking in the corner.
  • Try to find your best friend from sixth grade, Jose Martinez, on classmates.com. This seems like a great idea at first thought, until you realize that the internet is but a macrocosm of the world. So, if you headed down to the local Garra and shouted “Jose” you would have exactly one in four males turn angrily and reply “Que buey?” – Now multiply this a couple billion times and imagine trying to find a Jose Martinez, the boy who used to eat glue, in that pile.
  • Tell your Abuelita that you are going to go “google” or “download” something. As there has always been, there is a generational technology gap (remember the blinking VCR?) and an innocent comment using the unfamiliar vernacular might cause some serious confusion. You might catch a hasty chanclazo before you’re able to explain yourself. And she’ll have you know that you’re never too old for one.
  • Send your Abue a Facebook request asking her to take a “Which Sex and the City Character Are You?” quiz. It’s all fun and games until you learn that she’s the slutty one.
  • Have your boss as one of your Facebook friends. When you call in sick with a lame cough and your best sick voice and then immediately post the following: “This hangover is kicking my ass” it just might prove a tad problematic.
  • Post your love poetry on your blog. It’s not that good. Sorry. Someone had to tell you. It all sounds like bad freestyle lyrics (yes, a bit redundant, we know). Maybe if you didn’t use the word “baby” at the end of every line and follow a rhyme scheme eerily similar to Green Eggs and Ham. Naw. It’d still suck.
  • Forget to include your name, social security number, blood type, and all credit card numbers when replying to the email from the deposed duke of Burkina Faso who needs your assistance and will transfer you $6 million. It speeds up the process.
  • Tweet any of the following or use it as a Facebook status:
-"Violatin my parole, again. Lol.”
-“Hope the guys I’m smuggling into the country in my trunk are doing well. Blue Honda Lic. Plate #COYO TE ~Honk if u c me.”
-"Maybe Lou Dobbs is right. I’m applying to be a border agent. First order of business: Toss Tia Luisa back from whence she came. Sorry Tia.
-“Watching Harry Potter at the Riverside Mall and recording a bootleg. I’m n da back. Holla. Don’t tell the cops. Lol.”
We hope this proves helpful.


Let He Who is Without Sin… (El Guapo’s Conversation with God)

God has a sense of humor and has personally tapped El Guapo to pen a new teen sex comedy. He’s a fan of the genre. Who knew? Personally, El Guapo thinks that there are better things to write, but I don’t want to rumble with this guy. Remember what he did to Sodom and Gomorrah?

Keep in mind, God is not satisfied with mediocre – except for his indescribable love of reality shows. He’s an enigma that way. He says that they allow one to explore the human condition, but I think he’s full of it and should be ashamed for that Rock of Love crap. So, in any event, to keep it fresh, God has demanded that the setting of this particular film be Washington D.C. (and not an all-white suburban high school) and the horny teenagers be replaced with horny middle aged congressmen and senators chasing tail with reckless abandon – shame, caution, and their asses to the wind.

“But why, God?” El Guapo shook his fists at the rumbling sky. El Guapo was admittedly sulking like a toyless child for being forced to write some Porky’s type garbage for sexagenarians. (Porky's 2: Capital Hill Boogaloo?) God rumbled an addendum to the ten commandments – to be added to the bottom of the list with an asterisk and which deviates from the previous pattern. Admittedly, God has started drinking in the evenings - excuse the inconsistency. He called it a rule of thumb rather than any full blown, hell-damning guideline. “Just keep it in mind, yo.” (Little known fact – sometimes God likes to keep it street. Word.)

*Rule of thumb: When someone, particularly a politician, builds a career on moral righteousness and finger wagging, you best believe they’re sleeping with – and in all likelihood drugging – farm animals. The louder they denounce gays– the more likely they’re as gay as the day is long. The more they pontificate on the sanctity of marriage, the more likely they’re cheating on their spouses with clandestine Argentineans or using campaign funds to keep their adulteresses from spilling the beans. The more they talk about Me, the less compassionate they are. The more they explain how they are a friend to all races and do not see color, the more likely they kick minorities in the crotch as they walk the streets. The more they want drug dealers and users to be imprisoned for life, the more likely they’re probably Rush Limbaugh and hopped up on Hillbilly Heroin. Let this be known, henceforth and forever.

The screenplay is reluctantly in the works with a tentative release date of August 2010.


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.


“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 10th 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.”


= 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.”


= 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.

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