Perros del Mal

Se han confirmado las próximas funciones de los Perros del Mal, y para la función del 3 de diciembre en Brownsville Texas se anuncia la presencia de Latin Lover, elemento emblemático de AAA, no se sabe si será solo por una función o tendrá más participación.

Alguna vez Latin Lover ya había sido anunciando con los Perros del Mal para debutar en la Arena México, pero dicho debut nunca ocurrió, y siguió con AAA. Ya veremos si esta es una de las nuevas contrataciones que anuncio “el Perrito”, y si sigue su duelo personal con LA Park

Las próximas funciones confirmadas de Los Perros del Mal son las siguientes:

• 28 de Noviembre: Lienzo Charro de Coacalco 17:00 hrs. (Evento grabado para la TV). Se presentarán: Hijo del Perro Aguayo, Damián 666, Halloween, LA Park, Charly Manson, Lizmark Jr., Oriental, Alebrije con cuije, Psicosis, Histeria, Leo, Riveiro, Súper Nova, Ángel, Veneno y Scorpio. Referí el Tirantes.
• 3 de diciembre: Brownsville Texas 20:00 hrs. Se presentan: Latin Lover, La Park, Hijo del Perro Aguayo, Alebrije con cuije, Psicosis, Histeria, Damián 666, Casanova, Kaoma y Leo.
• 19 de Diciembre: Acapulco, Unidad deportiva: Hijo del Perro Aguayo, Damián 666, Halloween, Mr. Águila, La Park, Charly Manson, Lizmark Jr., Oriental, Alebrije con cuije, Psicosis, Histeria, Leo, Riveiro, Súper Nova, Ángel, Veneno y Scorpio, X Fly, Celestial, Cósmico, Mr. Aguilita, Talismán, Black Spirit, Turbo, Skayde y Black Thunder. Referi El Tirantes.

Fuente: Perros del mal Facebook

Hay una cosa de la nueva Ley Audiovisual que me desconcierta, me molesta y me indigna a partes iguales: Se prohíbe la emisión de pornografía en abierto.

Mi pregunta es ¿por qué?

Sinceramente, es que no lo entiendo, ¿a quién molesta, daña o agrede la pornografía? ¿porqué criminalizar una industria de ocio y entretenimiento?

Entiendo que no se pueda emitir a las tres de la tarde, pero con una simple delimitación del horario permitido bastaría.

De verdad, es que para unas cosas somos muy progres y para otros los más retrógrados del mundo. Y esta nueva Ley Audiovisual, con tanto proteccionismo y tanta gaita de no traumatizar a los menores nos está quitando libertades que ya existían en la época de ‘Cuéntame’.

Como esto siga así, dentro de unos años no podremos decir “teta” por la tele, y años después veremos aparecer el Destape 2.0 o algo así.

¿Es esta una medida más para proteger a los niños de contenidos perniciosos? Yo siempre abogo en contra de los horarios de protección del menor y esas cosas, porque cada uno tiene unos valores en su casa y creo que por ello son los padres o tutores quienes deben decidir en última instancia qué contenidos son aptos para sus vástagos y cuáles no.

Pero ni siquiera es éste el caso, porque ¿qué niño está viendo pornografía a las 3 de la mañana? Si lo hay, evidentemente el problema no es de la tele.

Y poniéndonos más serios, esta medida puede tener graves consecuencias para las cadenas locales, quienes consiguen gran parte de sus beneficios gracias a este género del audiovisual.

Alguien podría pensar ingenuamente que estas cadenas, ya que no pueden emitir pornografía, se dedicarán a géneros más “serios” como el documental o el informativo. Pero yo le pregunto, ¿y de dónde van a sacar el dinero para producir dichos productos? Porque del porno está claro que no.

Las cadenas locales no tienen recursos para llenar todas sus franjas televisivas, así que como es lógico, los programas originales que hacen suelen ser para el prime time o la tarde, por lo que el hueco de la madrugada no va a ser de todas formas llenado con programación original. Como mucho se sustituirá con programas de chats, Call TVs o en el mejor de los casos con videoclips. Y digo yo que peor aún son los Call TVs, que las películas pornográficas al menos no sacan los cuartos a nadie.

Pero ¡ojo! Recordemos que sólo se prohíbe el porno en abierto. Es decir, que quienes tienen dinero para pagar televisión de pago y canales premium sí pueden verlo. Y los demás que no somos ricos como mucho podremos ver los culebrones subidos de tono que emite Veo7. Para quien no lo sepa, son como telenovelas pero con escenas eróticas y sin mucho argumento, y deben de conseguir buena audiencia porque el canal sólo tiene dos títulos (‘Latin lover’ y ‘Jóvenes y ambiciosas’) y las repone una tras otra, una y otra vez.

Entonces, ¿será esto una medida más fruto del favoritismo? Probablemente Digital+, con sus canales para adultos saldrá bastante beneficiada, o tal vez laSexta saque otro canal de TDT de pago dedicado al porno. ¡Ay! Cómo mima el gobierno a sus amiguitos.

Y me sorprende que la gente no ponga el grito en el cielo o se lance a las barricadas. Claro, es que está feo decir algo en favor del porno. Pues yo lo digo alto y claro. Esta parte de la nueva Ley me parece un espanto, propio de la época de la Censura. Da igual que te guste el porno o no te guste, da igual que prefieras verlo vía internet como la mayoría, lo grave es que estemos dando este paso atrás en la libertad de expresión.

De verdad, no me cabe en la cabeza que en el siglo en que vivimos se prohíba la emisión de pornografía.

Andrea Montenegro Hot Video Clip 

Andrea Montenegro stared in this well done soap opera called “Latin Lover” which was televised on South America’s Telelatino network. It’s basically a show about a Latino version of Playboy TV where everyone on the show has various affairs with everyone else on the show. Not a creative script but it’s amazing how many beautiful women there are in this show and they pretty much show what they have.

Latin

By Cucas

Eu não tenho como dizer que sou uma pessoa muito religiosa. Mas estou longe de ser alguém que questiona a presença de um ou mais deuses. Acredite, aqueles que gastam tempo, dinheiro e saliva tentando convencer a todos que somos resultado do acaso, de probabilidades mínimas que se manifestaram em um específico momento estão esquecendo-se do fato básico que prova a presença de Deus: O acaso é desprovido de emoção. Deus, e os que contestam isso também vão quebrar a cara, não.

É muito simples, probabilidade alguma, acaso alguma criaria algo tão sacana quanto as 2 horas entre o levantar da cama e o acordar. Serei claro e direto, exemplificando como probabilidade alguma nos criariam seres tão perfeitos para fazer merda de manhã.

Caso 1: A gravata.

Minha rotina por aqui, durante a manhã é: Acordar, lavar a cara, xixi, limpeza em geral, café, torrada e computador. Passo uns 20 minutos comendo minha torradinha, me atualizando das noticias ao redor do mundo e me apresentando na webcam com minha cuequinha do Pikachu. Não raramente perco a hora e tenho que me trocar voando. E o dia que entrarei em detalhes não foi diferente. Coloquei gravata, estava prestes a sair e notei duas coisas: estava frio pacas e eu havia esquecido meu desodorante e meu perfume de urtiga (é serio). Pois bem, volto coloco o desodorante rapidinho, perfume e pego um moletom.

Nesse dia eu estava indo para uma reunião. Chego no local, quente pacas devido a calefação desregulada, tiro o moletom, arrumo o cabelo, a gravata, bato na porta e pergunto que horas seria a reunião, até então marcada apenas para “pela manhã”. Recebo a informação, falo com todos na sala de maneira amigável, sabe como é, trabalhando o networking. Saio para a minha mesa e sinto um friozinho no peito, olho pra baixo e  eu vi algo mais ou menos assim:

FRUTAQUECAIU! Eu esqueci de abotoar a camisa depois de colocar o desodorante e estava networking latin lover style!

Caso 2: Contos de infância

Esta aconteceu várias vezes. Desde pequeno as manhas são dolorosas. Me lembro de acordar, escovar os dente e enfiar a cara na água gelada, não porque eu queria me lavar mas porque minha mãe tinha me ensinado que ajudava a acordar. Sim, minha mãe, a mesma que não estava presente nesse dia. Meu pai seria o responsável por nos apressar, catar as lancheiras e voar para chegarmos a tempo de entrar no Candanguinho sem que o Tio Zé brigue. Obviamente tendo aquele cuidado que apenas pais tem. Chego ao colégio e me dou conta, pela primeira vez, o quão maldosas crianças são. TODOS apontavam para mim. Olho para baixo e noto que estou com minha calça do pijama. Sim, troquei de roupa, escovei os dentes, calcei o tênis e não lembrei de trocar a calça. E o mais bizarro, meu pai me levou ao colégio nesse estágio. De duas uma, ou ele realmente prestava atenção na gente ou ele compartilha do mesmo humor divino.

Caso 3: Vai popozuda

Tudo descrito em 1 porém com botões abotoados (estou neurótico com isso agora). Me dirijo para a parada de ônibus, escutando mp3 no meu celular, que se encontrava nesse bolso da mochila feito pra isso. Paro na parada e resolvo tirar a mochila das costas. Óbviamente (ultraproparoxítona) esqueci de tirar o celular. Resultado, o fone continua no meu ouvido mas se despluga do celular, que é um aparelho novo e devidamente equipado com alto falantes relativamente potentes que se ativam quando o fone não esta presente. O silêncio mortal da fria manhã escocesa na parada de ônibus foi interrompido por….

HEY! YOU’RE CRAZY BITCH, BUT YOU FUCK SO GOOD I’M ON TOP OF IT! WHEN I DREAM I’M DOING YOU ALL NIGHT , SCRATCHES ALL DOWN MY BACK TO KEEP ME RIGHT ON!….

Eu lentamente me movo ao bolso onde está o aparelho, tranquilamente pego o celular e reconecto o fone de ouvido, como se nada tivesse ocorrido. Como se eu não notasse ou me importasse com as crianças apontando para mim e chorando, os padres jogando água benta, as velhinhas se afastando… Até o ruivinho que normalmente chega no ônibus como se a mãe tivesse colocado cocaína, extasy, red bul e café na mamadeira dele apenas me encarava e tirava meleca do nariz. Eu obviamente me controlei e fiz o que qualquer homem que não deve nada a ninguém e paga as próprias contas faria. Peguei o próximo ônibus.

Existem outros casos como quando atendi o telefone do escritório falando português, fui ao escritório errado, fui para a octogonal, meu antigo lar, ao invés de ir para a faculdade mijei no lugar errado, etc etc.

Caro leitor, as duas horas entre levantar e acordar foram criação divina para se divertir. Simples assim. Acaso ALGUM seria tão precisamente sacana, como meu pai me levando ao Candanguinho.

ps: no Brasil eu tinha desenvolvido a técnica cambalhota na cama das minhas irmãs para reduzir o tempo entre levantar e acordar. Estou pensando o que a mudinha acharia de ser acordada assim. Provavelmente descobriríamos em quantos pedaços um barbudo pode ser partido.

Many years ago, on a whim I decided to go to Mexico because it was cheap. So up I went and flew to Mexico City for a week. This was the first time I had travelled on my own and I figured it would be a safer country to try my solo travel in than farther away in Asia.

I knew pretty much no Spanish and had a little phrase book at the time with your essentials. I arrived in Mexico City, finding a hotel to stay at that was also a residence for some people. I don’t even remember if I had a guidebook but somehow I got around. Mexico City was huge, at something like 25 million people, and the pollution was so bad I could taste it. Still I went to the Zocalo (the city center or public square) to see some of the buildings. And of course to a few churches as well.

The first night I went down to a local restaurant to order something to eat. I wanted to avoid the Zona Rosa, the tourist zone, as much as possible. After all, tourist areas tend to be pricy and don’t give you a real slice of the local haunts. As I sat in the restaurant with my tiny phrase book, I looked at the menu in bewilderment. Another customer must have seen my consternation. He came over and talked to me and told me what the food was so I could order something.

I was only in Mexico a week and even before I tasted the water my stomach started to suffer from Montezuma’s revenge. The airport had actually had people giving out pamphlets saying you could be affected from the altitude and so it was with me. I also had tummy troubles in India and Nepal (from dysentery) curtailing some of my gastronomic adventures. So I don’t remember much about Mexican food but there were a few highlights.

One day I asked a street vendor for naranja–orange juice. He asked, con huevos? And I said si, not knowing what it was. I received an orange juice with a raw egg floating in it. Gah! I drank around it and left the huevo behind. I also wandered into one market in the city that had various vegetables and tortillas and cactus. I never did try cactus. But at one booth there was a basket of white nuts. When I looked closer I realized it was grubs. Thankfully I never ordered those by mistake. I did get to try pulque (pullkay) which is a fermented cactus juice, very thick but tasty. It was considered to be a drink of the gods and I guess the old kings used to imbibe.

At that time my hair was nearly to my waist, blonde and brunette. As I walked through the city of brown-skinned Mexicans I stood out with my white skin and lighter hair. The men would hiss at me and call out, “Muy buenita.” I didn’t know what this meant and I found it disconcerting. It turns out that in certain countries they don’t whistle, or wolf whistle as we call it when men whistle at women. Instead they hiss their appreciation.  And muy buenita meant very beautiful. I began to realize how latin lovers got their names.

In fact, every day some man hit on me. There was the guy living at the hotel who tried to tell me he had met me at a party in Vancouver. It didn’t work but what he had done was ask the desk manager what my name was and where I was from. There was the hotel owner in Taxco who wanted me to accompany him on his holiday to a town that had a church for every day of the year, and another young guy looking for someone to buy him dinner. There were the guys at the restaurant in Cuernavaca, and a guy at a cantina who wanted me to go to Puerta Vallarta with him, but I wasn’t about to embark on trips with strangers.

My second last night, no one hit on me except to rob me on the train as I returned from Chapultepec Park which houses the world-class anthropology museum. It was the least invasive robbery, my bag being slit with a knife and my wallet taken. Lucky for me, my passport was tucked behind my camera lenses and the wallet held only about ten dollars and my Visa card. Even my traveller’s cheques were back at the hotel. No Mexican would look like an Anderson but I cancelled the card. I ended up not eating that night as it was a Sunday and I had no cash left for dinner. Most of the places wouldn’t take the traveller’s cheques.

Then on my last night I did go for drinks at a cantina with a Mexican man, named Fernando. He tried to get me into bed, pretty much like all the other guys, except the thieves. I wouldn’t give in and he proclaimed I wasn’t like all the other American women, many of them teachers who came down for a good time with the Mexican lads. But he did give me a ride back to my hotel. Before we got there though, the cops stopped him though he wasn’t speeding.

It seems they wanted a little bribe. So Fernando came back to the car, passed me money below the view of the window and then had me hand it to him visibly in view so the cops would think we had given all our money. Then we were free to go.

Fernando and I did exchange addresses and continued to write each other for years. Now we both have email and Fernando and I still keep contact. Some day one of us might actually travel to the other’s country again. There’s a lot of Mexico I never saw.

Caragiale a devenit celebru prin comicul de nume utilizat in conturarea personajelor tipice, din celebra sa comedie “O scrisoare pierduta” jucata intotdeauna cu casa inchisa. Noi preferam de la un timp…televizorul inchis din ce in ce mai des ….

Daca Farfuridi si Branzovenescu sunt nume cu conotatie gastronomica, prin analogie, primarele Constantei are  un nume cu iz legumicol, fara doar si poate. Precum marele orator Cicero, care isi tragea numele de la un bob de naut aflat pe nasul tatalui din dotare..leguma si nautul..tot pe acolo si Mazare, numai ca oratoria sa este deja sote si ca orice mancare vegetariana cere.. mai.rar…

Dar ce legatura este totusi intre Mazare si …canci ? Niciuna la prima vedere sau poate ne deruteaza bronzul brasil al personajului, mare fan al Waffen SS…si nu vorbim aici despre cele belgiene, care contin doar un nevinovat chimen…

Eh…tinuta ca tinuta, dar cum sa potrivesti rigorii gotice dansul ardent de latino lover si pasii de salsa, cand pune DNA-ul ochii pe tine ?

Canci-ul dat la o ora de maxima audienta tuturor acelora care nu-l inteleg si nu-l aproba este de inspiratie rroma, caci deh…multiculturalismul  loveste nemilos, pana si in Tiganiada lui Budai Deleanu, un…” nimic”, asa cum il defineste dictionarul, care se pare ca salasuieste asa cum declara Mazare zambind senin si gales exact la “cautatul in chiloti” al organelor…ceea ce il face sa ia culoarea verzulie a pastaii careia ii poarta cu mandrie numele.

Se intelege insa…ca n-au gasit deloc, da’ deloc ceva acolo ! Au dreptate astia cand spun ca DNA-ul este incompetent, ca sa nu mai vorbim ca si Mazare are dreptate ca este un atac nemilos..sic.. venit din dealul Cotrocenilor…

Asa ca, canci… tinde sa devina un brand care sa inlocuiasca nada do Brasil …desi era tocmai ziua potrivita pentru…pestii mazare, ca sa ne inspiram din  Salinger…

Adevarul este.. ca avem un primare de inspiratie bonduelle…caruia i-ar sade bine intr-o conserva fabricata la Rahova..

Acesta este un pamflet si trebuie luat ca atare !

Who is this girl?

Would you give up the Presidency of the United States for this?

Bing Photos

Mistress

43 year old news reporter

Your Cheatin’ heart

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beer and Burgers Diet

Etiquette

Artsy Fartsy

H1N1:  Swine Flu

In a recent post, I advised the Republican Party to tread lightly when challenging the nomination of Sonia Sotomayor to the Supreme Court. As we know, the initial reaction of many conservatives had less to do with her judicial philosophy (which is a legitimate topic for debate) and more to do with her reputation as a fiery Latina.

Well, many conservatives heeded my advice (you’re welcome!). But to my surprise, a few continue to attack the woman for her unapologetic acknowledgement that she’s Hispanic. It seems as if several Republicans have their Latino-bashing setting on autopilot and can’t shut it off.

For example, Daily Kos points out that Senator Jeff Sessions, a Republican from Alabama, brought up Sotomayor’s association with the Puerto Rican Legal Defense and Education Fund. Sessions claimed that the organization does not share an “American approach to matters” and has “taken some very shocking positions with respect to terrorism.”

I’m no expert on the PRLDEF. However, the organization apparently devotes its energy to voting and employment rights, education, housing, and other social issues that have a disproportionate impact on Latinos. I doubt that they’re chockablock with terrorists or have turned Sotomayor into a dynamite-wielding nut in judicial robes. Call it a wild guess.

And someone needs to inform Sessions that Puerto Ricans are U.S. citizens and, as such, indeed share that fabled American approach to matters.

One would think that a political party on the ropes would recognize that it desperately needs to avoid alienating the fastest-growing demographic of voters (i.e., Latinos). Furthermore, one would assume that Republicans would look at their abysmal favorability rating among Hispanics – down to single digits, according to some polls – and say, “Let’s try not to look like xenophobes for once.”

But let’s be fair. Not all Republicans are tripping over themselves to proclaim hostility toward Hispanics. For example, this week, Governor Mark Sanford of South Carolina held a press conference to announce that he was positively bonkers over a Latina. Unfortunately for him, it turned out that the woman was not his wife, turning him into, as Jon Stewart pointed out, “just another politician with a conservative mind and a liberal penis.”

But should we let Sanford off the hook? After all, he may very well have been the powerless victim of the unstoppable, unquenchable Latin Lover. As I’ve written before, this archetype can take the form of an exotic beauty who beguiles the morally upright white male, who then comes to his senses and returns to his proper role as upstanding member of the nuclear family and majority culture.

At least that’s what Sanford is trying to do. In actuality, he just comes across as a guy so desperate for sex that he’s willing to skip work, ditch his family, and fly to another continent for it.

I sense that’s not the way for Republicans to win over Hispanics.

e dopo Noemi c’è Patrizia. anche se lei di anni ne ha diversi di più della donzella che ha riempito le cronache (e non solo quelle) delle scorse settimane.

c’è di diverso anche che Patrizia è una escort dal passato (e dal presente, n.d.a.) abbastanza controverso.

ma di questo chi si ricorda?

L’Aquila, protestano i residenti del centro

“No alle crociere, vogliamo le nostre case”

noemi. patrizia. questa è l’itali(ett)a in cui viviamo.

Guess what time it is, Lucha Libre Aficionados? It’s time for Triplemania XVII LIVE from Mexico City, Mexico!

But before Triplemania XVII gets going, I thought I’d post My picks for this Show for your reading pleasure………

My Triplemania XVII Picks:

Relevos Atomicos de Locura

El Elegido/Faby Apache/Octagoncito/Pimpinela Escarlata

vs

Billy Boy/Mini Abismo Negro/Polvo de Esterllas/Sexy Star

If you find yourself working in the South of France, one thing you’ll quickly notice is that you’re moving too fast, that drinking at lunch is highly encouraged, and post work party plans are always in effect. In fact, there’s so much of la vita loca [the crazy life] going on here, that you are wondering if Ricky Martin might show up! [where is Ricky anyway?] It’s the good kind of crazy life though, and maybe just the life that you might be dreaming off; where you work to live as opposed to live to work, and with a 35 hour work-week and 5 weeks vacation paid a year, it’s no wonder their sexing national average is beaming. Their life is one giant holiday and we all know that sex is much better on vacation. So, there you have it, the truth about how to get it on often: Socialism! Where everyone gets it and where you only work hard to keep your hard on. Now, that’s politics that really has your back! But before requesting asylum at your local French embassy for alienation of your libido, self-assess your stress-level, and your permanent vacation state of mind.  If you find yourself out-of-wack, it’s time for your own mini French revolution and you can get it right here at home.  Start by getting in touch with your inner latin lover* and treat your week as your own Riviera vacation.  This is best achieved without thinking about any chores, bills, or nasty coworkers.  Do surround yourself with the ones you love, throw a festive BBQ party every night for a week, be carefree, go to bed much later than usual and get it on every night!  Repeat as often as needed and keep the vita loca flowing!  Santé [Cheers]!

* Latin lover updates: just say no to Fabio!

A new podcast at RadioVaticana.org features chatting of Latin nonsense with Vatican Radio’s popular “Latin Lover”, Carmelite Father Reginald Foster!  Listen in RealAudio or MP3

Italian men are famouse for them beauty.
BlogMasterPg considerated ‘The last latin lover, with thousand funs in all the world.
Now, after 4 years of buzzes, we can show Him in all his beauty, You mustgo here( to see and to vote his ph

In honor of Valentine’s Day, I want to give a shout out to all those Latin Lovers… Actually, let me stop there. What the hell is a Latin Lover anyway?

Whenever I hear the phrase, which has actually been pointed at me a couple of times, I think of some confident guy who charms roomfuls of women but regularly loses tracks of how many ladies he’s slept with that week. This is not me, by the way.

Other images come to mind. Is it the guy who snaps his heels together, plays flamenco guitar, and presents blushing ladies with roses? Or is it the player who flashes devilish smiles, tells oily lies to naïve women, and dumps trusting females eight seconds after ravishing them? Or is the guy who is open and expressive, has a sensitive-artist vibe, and respects women as well as lusts after them?

All of these images have, at one time or another, been presented. By the way, other Latino male archtypes – such as the uber-macho hombre, the mama’s boy, and the barrio thug, among many others – don’t traditionally fit the category of Latino Lover. So let’s leave them alone, for now.

Of course, there is also a female version of the Latin Lover. These are usually exotic beauties who beguile (what a great verb!) respectable, rational men. The guys are helpless in her presence, even though she inevitably is either poor, crazy, or up to no good – probably all three.

Regardless of gender, the Latin Lover is usually presented as, at best, a fling of simple passion. They really don’t have any emotional states beyond getting aroused and flying into jealous rages, and as such, they’re poor choices for long-term companionship.

In worst-case scenarios, the Latin Lover is an obstacle to the hero or heroine’s true love. Under such circumstances, the confused woman or blinded man eventually returns to his/her stable partner, kicking the lothario to the curb or ditching the dark-skinned mistress.

Like every other aspect of our culture, Hollywood has had an influence in shaping the iconography. After the imbroglio caused by my previous posts about Hispanic representation in the movies, I don’t want to get too much into it. Suffice to say that the original Latin Lover was probably Rudolf Valentino, the silent-film star who terrified/fascinated innocent waifs in the early days of cinema.

But Valentino was Italian, which leads to a question: How strict is the “latin” part of that equation? After all, we’ve seen many people of different ethnicities play this role – everyone from Antonio Banderas (a Spaniard) to Selma Hayek (a Mexican) to Johnny Depp (a white guy).

So perhaps being a Latin Lover is more a state of mind than an ethnic identity.  Still, its roots in ethnicity cannot be ignored. And this leads to larger questions.

For starters, is the image of the Latin Lover a stereotype? If so, is the modern definition confined to Hispanics, or as we have seen, can Italian or Greek or even hot white people be Latin Lovers?

Furthermore, if it is a stereotype of Hispanics, is it a positive or negative one? Or is the concept of a positive stereotype an absurd oxymoron? Really, how insulting is it – if it’s derogatory at all – to be called a Latin Lover?

As I mentioned in one of my first posts, my future mother-in-law, upon finding out that her daughter was dating a Hispanic guy, famously said, “Those Latins. They love ya, then they leave ya.” I should point out that my wife and I will soon celebrate our 18^th anniversary. So I guess I’m not much of a Latin Lover, at least not according to my mother-in-law’s definition.

So let me ask a final set of questions. Are you a Latin Lover? Are you involved with one? And in either case, is that a good or bad thing?