I) Including Juegos, or Interrupcion!

Stalled, or not going anywhere. The game!

Can you survive the terror that is... aw nuts.

Drink!

It's only a matter of self-assurance, and believing.

...with a leafy tinge of of self-deceit.

Sometimes we must live a lie, mustn't we? I'll say it's better, isn't it?

I called Jay.

"The bear has 40 stories," he said, "All of them about pears."

"What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Conspiracy!" he cried.

Drink!

"Conspiracy!" he cried.

Jay, my good friend, was trying not to think about being out of work by writing his novel. Serial Noir in nature, it centered on Private Wayday (Wide-Eye) P.I., an Australian dick some were calling the Apoplectic Detective. I was calling him a complex sepulcher. I read the first thousand excremented pages before making my declaration: "You need to think about getting a job."

He mulled on this.

Mark Twain had a twin brother named Dwayne.

Briar Rabbit had a cousin who's thorny exterior

was purely psychological.

"I got a text from your brother" he showed me:

"heyo gringo happy cinco de mayo"

"and I figure any excusa to drink Coronas and eat tacos is all good with me."

Drink!

That's what the incredibly diverse culture and history of Mexico has distilled down to? An incorrect understanding of a holiday that isn't even celebrated in Mexico, and an image of Mexicans as Corona-chuggling, taco pounding paisanos.

There's a probably a whole lot more to it in many people's minds -

BUT I'm not about to entertain a contention of that much ignorance and racism

on an empty stomach - maybe I'll tackle it after a fish taco, I'm dying here!

Drink Drink Drink

!