Dear Mexican,
I live in a little village in England in a house that’s 200 years old, just down the hill from a tiny church that’s so old that it was actually built before God said “Let there be light,” thus proving that Stephen Hawking is a blowhard. The only industry around here, apart from digging potatoes and interfering with cows, is the cement factory, and that has been taken over by Mexicans. It used to be Rugby Cement, but now it’s CEMEX. Not much changes around here, and people don’t much like change, but there was an expectation that the new management of the cement works might liven up the neighborhood; that mariachi bands would stroll the streets; that burros would appear, ridden by sleeping guys in sombreros; that the night’s quiet would be split by the thrumming of guitars, shouts of “Andale! Andale! Arriba! Arriba!”, and the crackle of brisk exchanges of gunfire as executives settled their budgets for the new financial year.
None of this has come to pass. In fact, no Mexicans have been seen in the village at all, despite the village pub’s legendary chili nights. Is CEMEX an illusion? A mere corporate fiction that is actually run from Liechtenstein with Arab oil money? Or are the Mexican managers all brujos who can make themselves invisible by drinking concoctions of jalapeños, tequila, and dried armadillo brains from scooped-out human skulls? We need to know the answers to these questions, lest the peace at the heart of England be disturbed, and the beat of Drake’s drum be heard faintly on the breeze, calling, calling. Toodle-pip, old chap!
Baron Botolpho Winkletje van der Griezels
Dear Limey,
Isn’t it great that the Reconquista is now global, and that American stereotypes of Mexicans easily crossed the pond? And don’t think this Mexican has forgiven Genesis for their pendejada of a video for their song “Illegal Alien.” But yes: CEMEX (a syllabic abbreviation of the company’s original name, Cementos Mexicanos) is one of the world’s largest cement companies, born and headquartered in the city of Monterrey (whose natives are as notoriously stingy as your Scots). Other Mexican corporations with worldwide reach include Grupo Bimbo (bread makers), Televisa (creators of telenovelas), and the Mexican Nalga Fund.
Why do white Americans buy into this Reconquista bullshit? I believe that these babosos talk about it more than Mexicans do. I have yet to meet a Mexican that is part of this “movement.” Every Mexican who I know has come to America to work, seek a better life, and buy a Chevy Tahoe or Suburban—that’s it. I guarantee you that if any white American actually spoke to a Mexican and asked him about the Reconquista, the Mexican would respond “¿Que que?” I was born and raised in San Antonio, served my lovely country in the U.S. Army (2003–08), and now live as a disabled vet in Denver. My parents were from Zacatecas and Jalisco. I asked them about the Reconquista and got the same response from both: “Dejate de pendejadas.” So, gabachos, when you come to ¡Ask a Mexican! to ask stupid questions, consider this: Most immigrants go through shit and high water to come to America. WHY would they even want to reclaim the Southwest back for Mexico? You think they would want to travel an additional 800 miles to come to America? As a child, I have been to Mexico on family trips and let me tell you: I would not want to live there. My parents sure didn’t. We Mexicans grow attached to the American way really quick. But back to my original question: Why do gabachos buy into this anti-Mexican bullshit when they have way bigger things to worry about? We are not the American-way-hating race.
El Sargento
Dear Sargeant,
Primeramente, gracias for your service. Secondly, to our Know-Nothing audience: Cut out this letter, staple it to your foreheads without anesthesia, and get it through your thick heads that this is the reality of the Reconquista—especially the Suburban part. Finally: Why do they believe this, Sargento? Por pendejos. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone, and remember to add serranos to your stuffing!
