Ask El Güero

I will confess that I read the online magazine Slate pretty regularly. Usually they have articles that are interesting or practical, such as this article on how long it takes to dissolve a human body in lye. Very good to know if you live in under constant threat of cartel violence. I will also admit that even though I'm fairly liberal, sometimes Slate gets to be too much for me, especially when its readers ask for advice about problems that only liberals, in particular "limosine liberals," would have.

So, in loyal opposition to Dear Prudence, I have chosen to answer the most ridiculous questions I've seen asked in Slate with my own brand of Chuco-fied straight shooting. Ladies and gentleman, I give you: Ask El Güero!

¡¡¡ASK EL GÜERO!!!
*Mexican hat dance plays* On to our first question!

Dear Güero,
We're having Thanksgiving at my place this year. I'm vegan and I don't want to cook meat for Thanksgiving! In fact, I don't want any meat in my house *at all* because I'm so morally opposed to it. Why can't my family be open-minded? -- Peeved in Peoria

Answer: Because even if you are open-minded, sometimes vegan food just sucks. I mean, seriously, I've *tried* it, but I just can't get into it. I feel like most of the kick people get from eating "organic foods" comes from the fact that they paid more to have bugs crap all over their apples. Look, it's Thanksgiving, a time of year when everyone is expected to compromise their values and deny the core tenets of their identity in order to keep peace with blood relatives you secretly hate. So smile, eat your turkey, and STFU. Gobble gobble!

Dear Güero,
Whenever I hear someone sneeze, I don't say "bless you." My coworkers think I'm rude, but really it's because I feel like that's overtly shoving your religious views down someone's throat! Is there anything else I can say? -- Sneezy in Santa Fe

Answer: How about "I'm a sanctimonious douchebag?" Sneezy, let me ask you -- have you ever uttered the phrase "Oh my God"? Or "good-bye," which started out as a contraction for "God be with ye"? Or the phrase "Goddamit"? I know *I* did when I read this. I'm betting you have to, which makes you a *huge* hypocrite by your own standards. In fact, isn't *not* saying "bless you" kind of a way for you to shove *your* religious views down someone's throat? "Bah, cling to your impotent religion, FOOLS! I will not play your futile little reindeer games by saying 'bless you!' A pox on your houses!"

If, as an godless heathen, it bothers you that you might be invoking some non-existent shaman spirit, you can always quote Nietzche instead. For instance, after someone sneezes you can respond with a polite "God is dead." Or instead of "God bless you," think "Flying Spaghetti Monster bless you." Problem solved. And if you happen to be the kind of person who actually doesn't use any God-derived phrase in speech, your coworkers probably won't be shocked when you tell them something weird after they sneeze, give that you probably talk like a stilted, autistic Martian anyway.

Dear Güero,
I love my family, don't get me wrong, but I have one uncle who thinks that Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh, and Sarah Palin are the bee's knees. It gives me social anxiety disorder to be confronted with views different from my own! How do I convince him he's wrong? -- Liberal in Lansing

Answer: You can't. Just drink like the rest of us. Alcohol exists for a reason.

Dear Güero,
My kids, age 6 and 8, love astronomy, but I think NASA is such a waste of money when there's so much starvation here in the United States! Should I feign interest in what they like? On the one hand, I don't think they should waste their time chasing fiscally irresponsible dreams that are ultimately pointless. On the other, I don't want them to think that women can't be interested in science. Help! -- Mom from Mizzou (swear to Jeebus, this was an actual article)

Answer: Oh, the irony of not encouraging your children to chase after fiscally unsound dreams is that fact that you are LIBERAL! Isn't that funny? Ha ha! No? Okay. Here's the answer. Okay, freaking -- yes. You feign interest. And you don't do it to prove some overarching feminist point. You do it because they're your KIDS. My mom faked interest in Pokemon for YEARS, she can probably identify more than I can now. She didn't do it to prove she was a strong, independent woman. She did it because she wanted insight into my world. That's how human relationships work. For instance, my brother loves Norwegian black metal. I've made it clear before that I *hate* that genre of music, but I listen to to what he says about it anyway because, well, he will literally keep lecturing you about the history of metal even after you've made it clear you have no interest in that subject, just to get on your nerves he's my brother and I love him. There's are the sacrifices you make for family. If this stresses you out, drag out that ratty, lime-green mat in the corner and do your yoga.

Thanks everybody! See you next week!

How Getting Deported is Like Taking a Trip to Disneyland

Had immigration court this morning. Time for Miguel Hakim de la Santisima Trinidad to narrate another episode of Law and Order: La Raza. *Puts on law hat*

Case today centered on a Mexican asylum case. Asylum cases, particularly Mexican asylum cases, are tricky. First, it's hard for people to get asylum if they come from countries that the U.S. likes, because basically, the granting of asylum is tacit acknowledgment that a country a). is a jerk or b). can't get it's shit together. Think about it: how awkward would it be at the UN Christmas party if the U.S. told Canada, "by the way, we know about the guy whose balls you strapped to a car battery. We let him stay with us because you're mean." Awwwwkwaaaaard...

Mexico is one of the countries we actually like, contrary to what Glenn Beck says. They gives us tequila and tacos and a steady supply of illegal workers. They also buy a lot of crap from us. If you don't believe me, go to Cielo Vista Mall on a Wednesday and count the number of young guys you see wearing Hollister shirts and pointy shoes. So we can't really state the obvious -- that Mexico is mired in corruption and that parts of the country are blood-laved war zones -- because that would be awkward Oh my GAWD. Plus, we also get into issues of who is a legit asylee or not. Most of the time, these cases involve the cartels or else the police being assholes and killing your family. And yes, the police can be assholes who kill your family, but unless they kill your family because you're a Democrat, a Buddhist, a homosexual, ethnically Armenian, or ideally all those things, you do not qualify to come here under law. If they kill you just because they "don't like you" because you renegged on your drug deal, that's not asylum. That just sucks for you.

Anyways, the immigration lawyers in El Paso take on these almost impossible asylum cases because they believe in opening the floodgates to mass immigration, crashing the U.S. welfare state, and reclaiming Aztlan for the angry Serpent-God Quetzalcoatl helping people. The proceedings are interesting, at least to nerds like me. Basically, the attorneys for both the government and the immigrant bicker like children on a road trip, and the grandfatherly judge just rolls his eyes and sighs. You really feel for the guy. There were times I thought he would say "if you two don't shut up, I'm turning this courtroom around and we're not going to Disneyland!" (I wanted to compliment His Honor on having a great, Christmas-y Grinch tie, but I imagine that law slaves interns are discouraged from engaging in banter with the Bench.)

Witnesses ramble. The interpreter translates incomprehensible legalese from English to Spanish. You freeze your ass off in the conference room they dressed up to look like a courtroom. The asylum lawyer brings in a expert witness who vaguely reminds you of Velma from Scooby Doo. And eventually, everyone ends up leaving angry, hurt, and, confused, like a teenager who got rejected as a prom date.

So what's my opinion on Mexican asylum cases? Eh. Doesn't really matter, anyways, I'm not a judge or a lawyer.

Sometimes I wonder why I'm going to law school. Then I realize it's because I have nothing of value to contribute to society. Must...finish...applications...

Peccados Deportados con El Señor Miguel

In the immigrant justice system, indigent clients are represented by two groups of people: the non-profit attorneys who argue the cases for peanuts and the interns who try to prove that somehow, some way, the firm's clients are being chased by El Chapo. These are their stories.

*METAL CLANGING SOUND*

So since graduating from college in May, I've been waiting out the economic crapstorm by volunteering to advance La Causa. My mission: trying to keep people from being deported to Mexico, a.k.a. 300 feet *that* way. I'm going on my fifth month at the center now. I got a T-shirt y todo, and if I roll up the sleeves I can show off my slowly growing but still pathetic arms. 'Sta bien chida.

Most people would find the ins-and-outs of immigration law to be boring. But me, I like to think of my volunteer work like it's all part of some primetime novela. Think Law and Order: La Raza. Granted, we don't get to carry guns or have intense dialogues, but some of the shit we pull would make Jack McCoy himself say WTF?

In the 400-plus volunteer hours I’ve logged as Kirk the Law Slave hotshot legal assistant Miguel Hakim de la Santisima Trinidad, I have done the following things:

• Compiled a 300-page cancellation of removal case that hinged on menopause being considered an “exceptional and extremely unusual hardship." The judge didn’t bite, but he did admit it was a valiant effort after he ordered my client deported. (As an aside, I hope I NEVER have to hear the phrase “submucosal fibroid” EVER again. *Shudder*)
• Worked on an appeal involving a Somali guy who is not a pirate.
• Wrote bitchy motions to the Department of Homeland Security arguing that embezzlement – if it WAS indeed committed *scoff* – isn’t REALLY a crime of moral turpitude.
• Talked my way out of going to a client's house at a nun's behest when she explained that there might be a slight possibilty that her jealous boyfriend might stab me. Yeah. Nuns work at our office
  
• Caught myself using scare quotes when referring to things like “good moral character” and “national security exceptions under FOIA law”
• Translated Arabic documents containing phrases such as “in the service of building our Eritrean homeland,” “trusteeship of our departed martyrs,” and “victory to the masses!”
• Sat in and listened to various people claim that the Juarez Cartel/La Familia/La Linea/Colombian coke lords/the Mexican military/the Mexican police/the FBI/Santa Claus are out to get them and they need asylum
  
• Learned how to use phrases like "esteeee" and "oye, dame la account number, yeah?"

All in all, this is just another one of those things on my resume that means I will never be able to run for President or get a government security clearance. Lord knows that working there, chances are I've met someone knows a guy who knows a guy who shoved another guy into an oil drum full of diesel fuel and set him in on fire because he owed Vicente Carillo Fuentes a Snickers bar.

And in spite of all that -- I kind of like it. Sure, my family is probably sick of hearing about "the system" and I should talk about other things. But the fact is that the gym isn't exactly a hotbed of activity, the gossip well from Alma Mater has run dry, and any and all crazy nights out are protected as privileged information under the Bro Code. Plus I'm at that age where I have to start watching what I say and being "respectable" and "discreet" and whatnot. As a result, Kirk's tawdry stories will go untold online, but Miguel Hakim will keep on fighting the good fight.

So yeah. In conclusion, que viva la raza!

(EXECUTIVE PRODUCER: DICK WOLF)

The Drug War Hits Home

Kind of a weird day. My mom got a whole bunch of calls this morning from her friends asking if she had "heard the news." Apparently a Mexican journalist from Durango with our last name was kidnapped and executed by Los Zetas.

Almost every Antuna can be traced back to a few villages in Durango, including my grandfather. She called him up, and from what he can gather, the man was definitely a relative. Not one of my close ones -- likely he's a second cousin once or twice removed and none of us had ever met him.

But still, it's a little weird to know that your family isn't immune to bullets from the cartel wars. I'm proud of my Mexican heritage. I treasure it. I love our language, our art, our culture, and our values. That being said, I'm glad my grandfather chose to immigrate to the U.S. I know how fortunate I am to live in a country with an imperfect but functional justice system, and that I grew up in safety. I'm also glad to know that I come from good blood, that my family is on the right side of all this, and that there are people who are braver than me and willing to stand up and speak the truth.

I'm a pretty liberal guy, but I'm conservative about drugs. Stuff like this is why. Prove to me that not a dollar from a drug's sale is going into the hands of thugs and criminals in Mexico, Colombia, Afghanistan, and Laos, and frankly, I don't care what you put in your body or what you do with your spare time. But for as long money from a "harmless" drug like pot funds corruption and killings, I don't believe that people have an inalienable right to get high.

People talk about Baghdad being scary. People talk about how the prospect of an al Qaeda attack keeps them up at night with worry. Frankly, all the Islamists in the world are chump change compared to the narcotraficantes of Mexico. A few clerics twisting the words of the Quran and shouting "Death to America" don't scare me a bit. Osama bin Laden kills in the name of God. These guys kill in the name of money. And that's what really scares me. "God" can get people to fly an airplane into a building once. Money can make people kill every night.

I'm off my soapbox. I don't know why this really got to me, but it did. R.I.P. Jose Bladimir Antuna Garcia. I never knew you, but you died a martyr's death trying to make sure people knew the truth. I take pride in knowing that we share blood, and I hope that if God one day grants me salvation, I can finally meet the man who stood up and did what was right -- because it was right.

En el nombre del Padre y del Hijo y del Espiritu Santo. Amen.

EDIT (9:12 A.M.) Associated Press story as run by the El Paso Times