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<p><strong> It’s so sad to see your wimpy answers. Your replies scream self-hatred and self-shame for your <em>raza</em>. You’re pathetic! No plan or desire to fix Mexico’s problems. You’re a <em>puto</em> with no <em>huevos</em>. My DREAM Act would be that you Mexicans would stop groveling to gringos, and scream about fixing Mexico, like WHITE PEOPLE did against the Iron Curtain thing. ONLY THEN will your Mexican self-shaming and self-hatred of your un-macho, <em>puto</em>, groveling <em>raza</em> change to real pride, which you know you deserve, like gringos got about America. </strong></p>
<p align="right"><strong>Groveling is Puto Stuff</strong></p>
<p><strong><em>Dear Gabacho:</em></strong> Groveling? <em>Chulo</em>, this is the only column in the country that refers to <em>gabachos</em> as <em>gabachos</em> instead of the candy-ass “gringo” like your <em>gabacho</em> ass uses. No desire to fix Mexico? What’s billions of dollars of remittances, then—or the Reconquista, for that matter? Or those marches of millions rallying for amnesty? That’s a movement as epic as Solidarity or <em>glasnot</em> (and last I checked, a <em>chingo</em> of Eastern Bloc refugees worked from <em>los Estados Unidos</em> to liberate their homelands). Pride for America? All I hear from Know Nothings is how horrible the U.S. is, yet they do nothing to improve it other than rant—they sound just like Mexicans used to until we started doing instead of crying. Self-hatred and self-shame? The only thing this Mexican is ashamed of is his <em>panza</em>—and even then, it’s a panza more glorious in its contentment and fire than any <em>gabacho</em> <em>panza</em> can ever hope to attain. <em>Huevos</em> that, <em>pendejo</em>.</p>
<p><strong><em>Cada día</em> me and my <em>perro</em> Manchas go for an afternoon walk in this North Denver <em>parque</em>. We often pass the gringo gentry who are temporarily “improving” the neighborhood as an investment. You know how the gentry are—they move into the barrio but send their precious <em>güeritos</em> to the charter schools so they won’t get <em>piojos</em> from our kids or wind up pregnant with half-brown babies. Anyway, I swear, every time me and Manchas pass one of these purebred, hyper-trained gentry dogs, the owners pull their <em>pinches perros</em> away from mine so they can’t sniff <em>cola</em> or . . . you know. He’s a “purebred” Australian Cattle Dog (<em>simón</em>, a canine mestizo) and came off a reservation. But I bathe him once a year, brush him daily—<em>más o menos</em>—and he doesn’t even have <em>piojos</em>. Me, either.</strong></p>
<p><strong>I guess my queston is: how can the gentry know that he’s Spanish- surnamed, bilingual and mestizo, since they’ve even never talked to us? And is there anything I can do so Manchas doesn’t grow up with a <em>pocho</em> complex and think he’s inferior to a gringo’s dog?</strong></p>
<p align="right"><strong>Yankee Hipsters Go Home!</strong></p>
<p><strong><em>Dear Wab:</em></strong> Gotta pay our respect to our <em>veteranos</em>—they can ramble as awesomely as any <em>gabacho</em> at a retirement home! I <em>think</em> what you’re complaining about is the gentrification of historically Mexican neighborhoods by hipsters, a phenomenon happening everywhere from Denver to Los Angeles, SanTana to Chicago and beyond. It’s important to fight the encroachment of <em>pendejos</em> with no ties to the area who start demanding changes—get rid of quinceañera shops, of crowing roosters, of cars parked on lawns or corn grown in the backyard and <em>nopales</em> in the front. At the <em>mismo</em> time, though, <em>raza</em> really angry with gentrification should practice <em>gente</em>-fication, the process of young locals getting over their <em>pocho</em> complex opening their own businesses to pump enough money back into the area so that city bureaucrats don’t have any excuse to use the ruse of redevelopment on <em>raza</em>. Think of that strategy as our economic Mexican-American War—and if there are hipsters who are respectful of the old guard, like the San Patricios that joined our side against the invading Yankees so long ago, then I say embrace their ranks, pound a PBR with them, and teach them the secrets of scaring insufferable hipsters away from the barrio by blasting Banda El Recodo at all hours of the <em>noche</em>.</p>
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Gustavo Arellano