the Festival of Santa Cecilia in Sunset Park on Wednesday night was the Mariachi procession through the Our Lady of Perpetual Help church.

The music of the 14 mariachi outfits–comprised of members hailing from El Salvador, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Colombia, Dominican Republic as well as Mexico (by way of the tri-state area)–could be felt throughout the cavernous sacred space.

Photos after the jump.

sometimes i have stuff to do

sometimes i feel like dyin

i wish i wanted to go home

wait i have no home

the future looks bleak

sometimes i feel like i will live a great life

sometimes i feel like i should  die pretty soon

last night i had a dream about jenny lewis and ernest hemingway

jenny lewis and i were  waiting at a bus stop near the sunland park mall on the westside of el paso texas

we smoked cigarettes together and i held her hand

it was august , it was hot, the sun was setting

jenny lewis looked at a palm tree

i looked at some cars

she said ‘ were not taking the bus’

i said ‘ how will we get back to our houses than’

she said her friend ernest hemingway is picking us up

i looked at a palm tree and put my head down and said ‘ okay’

she said ‘ we can’t hold hands in front of ernest hemingway’

i said ‘ why’

she said because ernest hemingway likes me and i don’t want anybody’s feelings hurt

i said well it should not matter because your my ” girlfriend” and that is what people do when they are going out

she said yeah  but i like him too and i don’t want to ruin my chances with him

i said ‘ how is that supposed to make me feel

she said your acting like an asshole

i said  i am not acting like an asshole

she let go of my hand

ernest hemingway’s car pulled up to the bus stop

i said i am not getting in

she smiled and said ‘ okay’

i got close to her face and tried to kiss her

she pushed me away

and ernest hemingway beeped

and yelled ‘ stay the fuck off my girlfriend’

she got in the car and kissed ernest hemingway

ernest hemingway sped off in his shitty car and it made ‘ loud noises’

i texted her ‘ i’m going to kill myself’

i woke up and remembered that  it was not a dream

the whole thing happenned and but there never was jenny lewis or ernest hemingway

just some stupid girl and some loser who worked at subway or taco bell or some other shitty job like that

and it never took place in el paso texas

for  thnxfgvngs day i will say thank god :

that we broke up

that i never really even liked her  so  it’s easy to forget what she looked like

that  she ended up more unhappy than i was

for the other girls that i meet who are 1,000 times better

azns

my new found abilty to spot out sociopaths/bitches/losers/sadists/hippies

i don’t give a shit

i am sometimes hopeful for ‘ good things’ to happen to me

i feel overwhelmed in general

i want to lock myself in a room with a lap top and a fast internet connection and maybe a supply of vegan treats and rockstar energy drinks and bottles of adderall

i will be alone for two months

i did that

i felt simple

i felt alone

i did not feel happy but i never felt intense feelings of sadness

i went two months with out going outside or talking to a person

i went to buy some vegan treats  twice but that was it

and  i kept my head down and said nothing

it was easy

from another site :”What kind of fucked up parent lets their kid run around a parking lot? MEXICANS !!!!!!!This is a HUGE issue in my apartment complex… There’s a few familys in my complex that let their young children run around the parking lot (Most don’t speak english, so when you complain to them they just stare at you.). About 5 years ago, A 3 year old was actually hit by a pickup in my apartments because he ran out from between two parked cars and was hit by the truck. He was pinned under the vehicle, but only got broken bones if my memory serves me right.

It’s really fucked up when I have to stop 90 times while driving through my small parking lot because small children and cats don’t seem to have a clue that they should move out of the roadway when cars are coming. :2angry:

Erika Rubi Meza Mexican Anchor Toddler hit and run in Mexican Slum of Salem by Illegal Mexican Male Juan Lopez-Perez . Just another day In Mexican Occupied Salem. First A  Mexican Illegal Breeder-whore Martha Meza lets her small anchor brats run loose in the parking lot of an apartment complex.

This is clearly  in violation of the Rules of Apartment  complexes., which are never enforced unless you ask for repairs and then they throw the book at you. Salem is Mexico. The police need to use their energies in letting the mexicans know they will be deported, but they are probably afraid of being killed by the Mexicans, since Marth Meza , is an illegal alien who speaks only spanish, and the mexican Juan has an ICE  HOLD. The parking lot is a wetback stronghold and mexican candles are placed where the anchor brat died. Clearly all of them belong in Mexico where they can drive drunk breed and run each other over at their leisure.Turns out the Mexican Juan knew he killed Ericka but he was illegal or undocumented so he ran to save his ass and those are Mexican Values in a nutshell.Erika’s mother, who speaks only spanish, spoke to KOIN Local 6 through an interpreter.  Martha Meza said of her daughter, “She was really special. She was really special to her and to other people. If it was an accident, why didn’t he stop to help the little girl? She wants him to pay for what he did.” (Lopez-Perez is being held on $80,000 dollars bail, and is also under an ICE Hold.  That mean the INS is concerned about his legal residency status.  Meanwhile, at Meza’s apartment complex, more than a dozen candles now sit where the young girl was killed.
Breeders like Martha never get reported to ICEMartha the Illegal Mexican Breeder wants Juan the Illegal Mexican to Pay for what he did. No,he  shouldn’t. He should be deported and so should Martha  and both should be sterilized first. Typical Mexican Puta, she thinks the parking lot is a playground . If this was Mexico , no one would even care that Juan killed her anchor brat.

 Deport Martha Meza and Family

DHS

Immigration and Customs

Attn: Investigations

511 NW Broadway

Portland Oregon97209

 If you know someone who is either illegal and not paying taxes such as a gardener or  a sidewalk taco dealer,  I  suggest you submit IRS Form 3949-A

 So the little girl with the white,Nordic name gets killed.  Bravo ,one anchor baby gone , this will save the American White taxpayers about $200000.

 Americans are really tired of the way Mexicans never watch their brats, they run all over the place grabbing this and that , throwing things on the floor and the parents let them. Go to the Goodwill and even the Mexicans who work there can’t get the Mexicans to manage their kids. They say the Mexicans bring their anchors  and leave them all day , never minding them. But try telling a mexican to mind their brat and watch their hatred. The Anchor brats running all over and joining gangs is their own brand of terrorism.

By the way, a new trend of Mexican illegals is to give their kids white american names, like Kevin and Erika so they will blend. You might call them Amnesty is coming names. It’s sorta like all the illegals who shave their black Indian hair and wear baseball caps so Americans won’t know they are illegal aliens. Not so, as soon as I see a shaved head I think Hispanic illegal and gang member.The Sharpie eyebrows of Mexican females, originated because Mexican Indians have heavy brows with thick black eyebrows, by shaving them off the Mexican females think they look Anglo, but they don’t, Non-Mexicans are fasicanated by the sharpies eyebrows.

But back to the death of the anchor brat, a mexican named Juan drives like crap and kills the kid and leaves. Mexicans do this all the time.Its normal, break the law, drive drunk , kill people. Whatever. If the laws about drivers licences had been tightened up ten years ago, none of these mexicans would be here.

But the police just love those illegal, puta ,latinas so they went after him and now Americans get to pay for his jail time, when everyone involved in this should have been deported.

Salem Police Dept. – 11/25/09

SALEM POLICE DEPARTMENT2 year old struck and killed while walking in parking lot.On November 24th at 5:52 PM, the Salem Police Department and Salem Fire Department were dispatched to 3876 Sunnyview Rd NE regarding a child that was struck by a vehicle in the parking lot of the Stoneridge Apartments. The child, 2 year old Erika Rubi Meza was struck by a pickup truck that left the scene after the incident. Due to her injuries, Erika Meza died at the scene.

A subsequent investigation showed Erika and her sister were walking through the parking lot of the apartment complex when a white Ford four door pickup truck struck Erika. The truck continued through the parking lot and left the scene on Sunnyview Rd NE.

The Salem Police Traffic Unit was called in to conduct the crash investigation and remained on scene until 11:00 pm. Later in the evening at 11:40 pm, the Salem Police Department received information advising the truck involved in the accident was located in the 2100 block of Maple Avenue NE in Salem. Officers responded to the scene and ultimately arrested Juan Lopez-Perez for Felony Hit and Run. Lopez-Perez is 31 years old and a illegal alien from MexicoSalem resident. Lopez-Perez was lodged in the Marion County Jail and is set for arraignment at 1 p.m. today. This incident is still under investigation. Anyone with information is encouraged to call the Salem Police Department Traffic Unit at 503-588-6171. Further information will be released by the Marion County District Attorney’s Office. 

]]> http://monikafabian.wordpress.com/2009/11/25/in-search-of-the-holy-pail/ Thu, 26 Nov 2009 03:09:58 +0000 Monika http://monikafabian.wordpress.com/2009/11/25/in-search-of-the-holy-pail/

Pulque has been found in Brooklyn! Under la Virgencita’s altar in Park Slope’s Guerrero Food Center, the nectar of the gods–pasteurized and canned! Yay!

I’ve thought of three good reasons why I can claim to be a good, fully assimilated Mexican hombre. Yesterday I witnessed a robbery in progress, on the bridge a few minutes from home. I looked up, stopped, thought about saying something and then just decided – meh! Shit happens. Walk on by. To be fair, the robber and robbee were already closing their transaction, and they were on the world’s longest and most stupid footbridge, a good ten minutes stroll from my spot. Even though they were directly above me, no more than 12 feet away. And what was I going to say anyway? “Excuse me, are you being robbed? Hey there, you, in the red hoodie – would you mind awfully leaving that poor chap alone!” Not gonna have much impact I feel.

Even more Mexican than that was the way I cut back the tree in our yard at the weekend. Health and Safety regulations used to be the bain of my life back in the UK. Forms, forms and more forms. Here, they are effectively non existent, and  I’ve seen enough incidents to drive home why the UK enforces them so strictly. But I’ve gotten into the swing of things. Oh so literally. I managed to cut that tree down to size, with one hand clinging on to a branch, one foot pressed against the lip of the wall, the other hanging free, whilst my remaining arm sawed furiously at the offending wood. All the time my body at a 45 degree angle, at a height sufficient to cause pain if I should fall. I didn’t, I’m happy to report.

Thirdly, a few weeks ago I got a tooth infection. Whilst it did occur to me to go to the dentist, I chose instead to buy some cheap bog standard penicillin tablets from the national fake medicine chain, and finish off a number of Mystery Medicines that have been lying around in our first aid box since…well, I have no idea since when really. All washed down with a goodly dose of paracetamol. My home made remedy didn’t work sadly, and I strolled into the dentist of last resort this afternoon in agony.

Yo soy un Mexicano! Except, when I finish this post and walk out of this room I’ll pass a mirror which will provide three most compelling reasons as to why I will never really pass as a Mexican. Six foot three, fair hair and blue eyes. It’s not that there aren’t any Mexicans who fit that description. But not many. And none of them leave the safety of Polanco to wander around my neighbourhood.

Throughout life I have tried to understand why certain abnormalities fall into our culture as Americans. A question concerning me at this moment is, “What is the source of poverty, unproductivity, exploitation of America, and crime?”. I have come to no better answer then those 43,000 illegal immigrants in Kansas City, and those 11.3 million in the great country of America. Bear in mind, 8 American Children are sexually abused by those same parasitic border-jumping everyday; that adds up to be a whopping 2,920 annually. This is why I have devoted my life to rid this great nation of such people. This is the struggle not only I face, but the struggle that is waiting for you just around the bend.

On the statue of liberty is reads, “Give me your tired, your hungry, your poor…”. Well, in all actuality it’s the people you know and trust that are tired, hungry, and poor, and until that problem is solved I believe the they need to shut the book. But why are Americans suffering, yet again, take a look at the statistics; when an illegal immigrant gets caught for rape, murder, or drug distribution, America pays $1.6 billion annually in prison costs to feed, clothe, and bathe, the felons that make up more then 30% of America’s prisons, that are not citizens, and shouldn’t even be here in the first place.

To be fair, these statistics and views are not guided to any race, sex, religion, or nationality; but directed to those bottom-feeders who abuse the system and come here to exploit this great nation. One concept that I struggled to understand (but now seeming ever so clear), is that all races, religions, and nationalities have these low-life parasites. Be it Christian, Black, Phillipino, or Asian; all minorities have these characteristics, and eliminating those few is just half of the solution. You must also spread the word of Productivity and teach those with less advanced minds how to cherish America, and work for the good of all citizens, not just yourself.

Don’t forget that these illegal immigrants are the same illegal immigrants that bring over anchor babies; over 300,000 pregnant illegal women arrive annually and give birth on our soil. The average cost annually per child is 7,161 or K-12, according to the center of Immigration Studies. This is all paid for by the so-called “hard-working father” who makes 1-10th of his American counterpart. Cheap Labor sounds pretty good right? Wrong. These “hard-workers” are not paying taxes, not helping out the common welfare of the American people, and definitely not helping America’s current economical situation.

But don’t be naive America, I sure wouldn’t want my future son or daughter to have to deal with these people, you must act now to create a better tomorrow. With love for other citizens in my heart, I have fought procrastination and unproductively, and I now expect you to do the same.

It’s time for a  ”Coplas” battle!  A couplet back & forth between the two men that were the epitome and embodiment of the Charro way of life. The  legendary Jorge Negrette & Pedro Infante. The kings of the silver screen during what is called Mexico’s “Golden Cinema” era. Pedro was knows as the charming and delightful, playful, playboy of sorts, while Jorge who once had sung opera was known for his grand, deep & velvety voice,  along with his overall gallant & chivalrous, romantic, sophisticated demeanor. Coplas are very much  like rap battles in that the singers talk back & forth to each other during a song.  The famous coplas were very common in  Mexican  films  dealing with Charros.

TRANSLATION OF THE SONG

PEDRO: People state sincerely every time that wedlock is going take place. “The groom should love her always or else prepare him a wake(he’s dead).”

But for this bride there is no worries for she’ll have a good husband.  Good Jorge, he’s a good thing.  Well, a least him last name is.

Good Jorge, he’s so good. Son of  a good man, and his grandpa oh soo good too.  Oh to be named like him!

JORGE: I will procure to be as good as my name states.  Let he who asks for a wake, down his own poison.  Pedro is bad down to his last name, backing out is his forte. He’s just a show off , because he knows he’s not just bad, he’s really bad.(bad as in  poor quality, faulty, weak). Bad Pedro, he’s so bad. Bad by obligation, and his grandpa oh so bad! We must buy him his lion.

PEDRO: On a golden morning someone darkened the landscape. It was a crow and a  parrot tearing each others feathers out.  Let us forget the past if  fate is the true culprit. Don’t you know that if  you mix good and bad, it turns to regular. (* He’s hinting at that fact that he’s been wooing George’s sister.)

Yes I’m bad.  I don’t deny it, but I want to try mixing, and see if I  can get something regular as a  the result.

JORGE: A certain poisonous scorpion visited a beehive. He want to see if he could get rid of his venomous condition with honey, but what is good & pure does not lend it self for the pleasure of the wicked. With the mix of honey & poison he is now purged.  Let it be understood by who ever can understand. If, he can understand it. I he does not, then we obligate him to we must.

PEDRO: You know very well that I am not foolish like you…. have boasted.

JORGE: Dumb may be not, but a meddler….  due to hunger… for friendship.

PEDRO: My hunger, I always quell with a friend’s feast.

JORGE: Not a beggar, but a scoundrel,  he who steals from friends.

PEDRO: So you say.

JORGE: I sustain it!

PEDRO: Don’t get tired.

JORGE: Don’t  elude this!

PEDRO: I think I will!

JORGE: Then this ballad is over!

TWUP

“Who the fuck is going to pay for my fucking television? Huh? You mother fuckers killed my television.” Yelled a glassy eyed Mexican man with a strong accent.
Hector had come home from a small factory on Chicago’s west side. His job was to make grinding wheels for machine shops. The owner hired illegal aliens to make the wheels for him in a basement of the factory. It was an ingenious scheme. It would have been like putting Anne Frank to work behind the refrigerator. OSHA people would have closed the factory down in a second if they knew what was going on in the
basement. The air swirled with silica that went into making the wheels. The foreman wore a device that looked like a World War I gas mask that had two little air vents around the mouth. All the workers used paper masks and they were issued two a week. Hector worked ten hours a day and made eight dollars an hour. Hector had come from an area of Mexico called Jalisco. Hector paid a man close to $8,000.00 to take him across at Tijuana. The men, who took his money, provided him with fake papers. From there, Hector took a bus to Chicago to live in a studio apartment with his cousin and four other
men. A studio apartment is nothing more than a room that serves as everything but a
bathroom.
Hector started a side project of doing handy man repairs on the side. Sylvia, a seventy year old Jewish woman, hired Hector to fix some small items in her apartment and before long, Hector was living with Sylvia. Hector was a short dumpy Aztec looking man with dark, ruddy complexion and black eyes. Hector hated the United States.
Hector saw an invisible wall that kept his people invisible. Nobody seemed to notice that at all the restaurants, car washes and front lawns in upper middle class areas around the country, functioned because of undocumented Hispanics, primarily Mexicans. Hector knew that as an undocumented, illegal alien, he had to settle for whatever job and money he could find.
The silica made him wheeze and his eyes tear. Hector often coughed but thought nothing of it. Hector had been watching El Salvador playing against Mexico. It was a tied game in the 78th minute when six firemen axed the door open and began smashing all the windows out. Hector grabbed the arm of one of the firemen and as the fireman struggled; his axe went right through the 70 inch, high definition television that Hector had just purchased. It cost Hector the equivalent of ten days of work. The fireman apologized and walked out. Hector found out later at work that El Salvador won the match.
Sylvia stood on the sidewalk, trying to calm Hector while holding her parakeets in

a small cage. Hector had just downed several shots of tequila and wolfed down a six

pack of Tecate. All he wanted to do was watch the match on television and fall asleep on

the couch.

Hector and Sylvia found a motel on Lincoln Avenue called the Rio Motel.
Hector was checking into the motel that doubled as a convenience store too. Behind the bullet proof glass were cigarettes, pop, condoms, pain relievers and so forth. The Indian proprietor looked at Hector, a Hispanic man in his mid thirties and the seventy year old Jewish woman holding two birds in a cage, while dressed in pyjamas, was
impressed with that. Ajesh the proprietor was used to seeing all kinds of outrageous things but felt that the odd couple were the most unique of the night. Just as they were settling up with Ajesh, a young black, homeless man came in.
“Yo man, I’m just coming back for my cigarettes… I was in here back before y’all started foh the night and left my cigarettes here on the counter… You kin look at the tapes, I was here bout foh clock…”
“I don’t know nothing about no cigarettes, bro… You better leave now,” said Ajesh.
Hector slipped Fifty dollars cash under the bullet proof glass and handed it to
Ajesh. An Indian musical played in the back ground on a small television. There was one woman dressed in a Sari with twenty men, dancing in unison with her in front of a palace. Everyone of the dancers, were good looking people and light skinned to the point of looking Anglo with a hint of Indian. They were dressed in yellow and orange. They were all smiling, fit and happy. Ajesh was heavy and very dark and looked unhappy. He had a great disdain for the patrons who frequented the motel he purchased from a Korean couple several years back. The patrons used it to use and sell drugs, they used it to have secret rendezvous and some used it for prostitution. Illegal aliens used the motel as their
only means of living since they were fearful that a background/credit check would reveal the fact that they were not living and working in the country legally. Hector lived with Sylvia and so he had an apartment to go where there would not be four men to a room. Sylvia had companionship. She had someone other than birds and a television for interaction. Even though Hector was surly, he did appreciate the old woman letting him live with her. The relationship was non sexual for the most part. There had been a few
occasions where the chemicals within Hector, built up and drove him to do something that he would not have done otherwise. This poor decision making was aided by Tequila. Sylvia actually liked it quite a bit. It had been years since she had sex with a man. That night, there would be no sex and very little talking. They were both disturbed by the fact that they were instantly displaced from their apartment due to the fire.
“Hey man, I just want my motha fucking cigarettes… Look on the motha fucking tapes if you don’t believe me,” said the black man, with even glossier eyes than Hector.
“If you don’t leave now, I vill call the police,” said Ajesh, sternly.
“Fuck you, you fucking A-rab mothah fucking, carpet riding, snaking charming motha fucker.”
Ajesh emerged from behind the bullet proof room with a good ole Louisville Slugger. It was a thirty two ounce bat, which is to say that it had some weight to it. It was supposedly signed by Bo Jackson, who once played baseball for the Chicago White Sox and football for the Oakland Raiders. Ajesh held the bat up as if he were playing Cricket, which he was once very good at back in India. Ajesh was not a small man and was not afraid of black men who tried to intimidate him. In fact Ajesh was secretly hoping that one of them would cross the line so that he could brain them with his bat and then tell the police that he was being threatened with death by some transient.
“Who’s the mother fucker now? Mother fucker… Try some stupid shit, bro. I vill charm your fucking snake…”

With that, the transient man walked off and Hector and Sylvia went up to their
room. The room was musty as if mold was growing somewhere and the toilet smelled of urine like an outhouse. The bed had nothing but sheets on it and every spring on the bed
could be felt. Hector turned on the television to find two Indian men having sex with an Indian woman in a garden while sitar music played softly behind her feigned moans. Sylvia fell asleep talking to her birds, Hector fell asleep watching the Indian manage a trois. They too were good looking Indian people, this time with their clothes off.

Ten years ago, on this the patron saint of musicians’ feast day, I attended my first Café Tacuba concert. In retrospect, I realize that it was a watershed moment in my life. It crystallized my love for the band and opened the doors for all of diverse Latin American music that I adore today.

In the Tacubos’ music I found hybridity–Latin/American & Mexican/Indigenous/European & rap & rock & bolero & punk & pop & electronic & acoustic etc etc etc–being employed and celebrated not commodified and appropriated, which was all the rage in the era’s “Living La Vida Loca” Ricky Martin-led Latin invasion. Their sound mirrored and honored a multi-faceted history and actual existence—a mestizaje–that I wanted to emulate in my own identity. It was harmonious and discordant; quirky, curious and alive.

On a personal relationships level, the concert also has a lot of significance. Several of my closest friends are associated with it. My best friend from Mexico (who was just my host brother at that point) turned me onto the band with their LP of cover songs Avalancha de Éxitos (the gold standard for covers, in my opinion) that summer. Of the dozen or so tracks on the record, there was only one that I recognized: Dominican musician Juan Luis Guerra’s “Ojala Que Llueve Cafe” reimagined as a son jarocho. The song felt familiar in new way. (Much in the same way Mexico felt for me at the time.) At the end of my month in Mexico, he gifted me that album and left me a sweet inscription wishing me farewell and telling me to return soon.

Three months later I was at the concert. I went with my closest cousin and my best friend in college. Of course, at that point, she was just a classmate who I’d clicked with instantly over connections to Colombia and Mexico only weeks earlier during freshman orientation. We’d end up being roommates for the duration of college. And, also at the show, I met my homie planet claire.

By all accounts, it was a magical night.

To commemorate it, I’m going to embed a few special tracks from that show: “Maria” (their opening song), “Fin de la Infancia” (a pasito duranguense precursor about Latin American autonomy in the face of US hegemony) and “Chica Banda” (which the band always dedicates to its audience). And I’ll close with the Tacubos’ greeting: “Ya llego el Cafe Tacvba para que todos le metan el taconazo como se debe.”

You have to take a look at this vid!  This performance is freaking amazing! Super speed, super passion, Love this performance!!♥♥♥♥, Mad crazy skills both instrumentally & vocally.  Everyone really put their all into this piece, & played like there was no tomorrow! The violinists, trumpeters, the singer the guitarist everyone! So proud to be Mexican =D
So sad that Mariachi music is so underrated, it has the power to rival more well known & hyped music such as opera & classical.

THIS IS WHAT MARIACHI IS ALL ABOUT!

*Ladies tell me these  gentlemen don’t look incrediably sexy! Those strong resonant voices the gallant attire, the passionate playing. Whoo! That’s way hot! Testosterone overload!  In a majorly good way =P

After listening to Juan Son’s terrific cover (yet again), I was reminded of another inspired mariachi-tinged tune from this past spring that I wanted to share. Mexican Institute of Sound’s “Sinfonia Agridulce” is a fun, very Mexican take on The Verve’s hit “Bittersweet Symphony.”

Also, in case you’re still in town, there’s a mariachi celebration in honor of St. Cecilia, the patron saint of musicians, happening in Sunset Park on Wednesday night. According to Eating In Translation, there’ll be lots of good Mexican food too. Looks fun.

Did you know that Mexicans get sort of a birthday do over? How? Well, I’ll tell ya. Today’s lesson in Mexican culture is all about  Birthdays & Santos.

In Mexico you have two days that are all about celebrating  YOU!  2 days  through out the year.  #1 The day you were born and #2 The day Of Your Santo(Saint).  Once upon a time in Mexico, because the nation is primarily & fervently Catholic people where named after Saints, because they were born on the day that was dedicated to the remembrance of that Saint. So when your birthday came around people would either wish you a happy birthday or Saint’s day.  As time went on that tradition died down, people  began to choose name in other ways.  Although both names &  naming methods now differ,  peoples names still coincide with those of Saints & so…. When a certain Saint’s day coincides with your name, people celebrate you!  This is  because it is a reminder of old birthday traditions & it’s another reminder of how awesome it is that you are a part of this world & their lives.  Some people like to celebrate their birthday real big & have just a little treat or reminder on their Saint’s day. While others do the opposite, the like just a hug or phone call on their bday & a big deal celebration on their Saint’s day.

HOW ARE BIRTHDAY OR  SANTOS CELEBRATED??

On the day of a loved one’s “Santo” or Bday : Mom, Dad, Grandma, grandpa, bros, sis, friends, Girlfriend/boyfriend, etc…  It is tradition to wake them up with a serenade in the early morning. You sing them the traditional birthday song “Las Mañanitas” = which translates to something like… The darling/sweet  Morning song or melodies. This  song is considered a very important & meaningful present.

Usually the serenade is done with a  Mariachi band, but you know Mariachis are expensive….  & So sometimes the serenade consists of whatever  you can swing. Some people sing by themselves with a track for accompaniment. Others  like flat broke youngsters in love  lol  , get their friends together & they help the guy sing to his girl. It really doesn’t matter as long as it’s done with love, it is a present that is beautiful, romantic & memorable.  Besides the really cool serenade, it is customary to make the persons favorite food on that day, take them out for a treat & prepare a special event or surprise. Presents are given on this day too, but it is more about showing a person how much you care through actions rather then through presents.   The whole day is about treating to all the things they love , & being extra nice & loving toward them.

On someones birthday you can take them to a nature park/national park/historical landmark.

(All these arevery popular in Mexico, many of these parks can be found throughout.)

A walk in a regular public park is also suitable. You can enjoy fresh air buy a colorful balloon from a vendor at the park.  Or a yummy cotton candy.

Theme Parks & National Land marks

In Mexico Bañiarios (water parks) tend to be more popular than roller coaster parks.

Hybrids of theme park & land mark exist such as “El Bosque de Chapultepec” (Chapultepec Forest) in Mexico City

which is a giant park in middle of the modern, bustling  part of the city , but it’s right next to  historical Chapultepec castle. Modern meets, classical.

Or you can just go down town to  ”El Centro” (the center) as people call it & shop around , take in a meal, & even catch a show by street performers.

This was the last episode of the 13th season of South Park. That makes me sad. Wednesday nights will be forever emptier because of this. Well, not forever more. They’ll be better again in a few months when South Park is back.

In this episode, the boys go to the local water park, Pi Pi’s, where Kyle opts to stay out of the water indefinitely due to its incredibly high concentration of urine. Cartman, however, is disappointed for other reasons: the water park is filled with minorities.

Black people.

Mexicans.

Chinese.

He thinks he even saw some Native Americans.

This, of course, is less stated than it is sung in a beautiful song. Trey Parker is quite the composer – always has been. Indeed, Cartman predicts that the Mayans got the year of the Apocalypse wrong and that rather then 2012, it’s actually happening in 2009, since the water park has been taken over by minorities and Cartman is the “last of his kind.”

When warned that the pee content of his water park is so high that the park is on the verge of disaster, Pi Pi does nothing – to the detriment of human kind . . . well, human kind currently in attendance at his water park. With the urination of one final little girl, the water becomes 100% pee and disaster ensues. Everything goes to hell – in Cartman’s eyes, the Mayan Apocalypse.

In order to drain the pee from the park, Kyle has to hold his breath and swim through it down to an underwater release valve, but in order to do that he must first drink pee in order to avoid the bends. Since pee grosses him out so much, this is obviously a monumental task. It’s pretty hilarious listening to the other boys be honest about all the things they do related to pee that Kyle considers unacceptable:

- pee in the shower

- pee in the pool

- not wash their hands after peeing

Gross!! I’d never not wash my hands after peeing. Yeah . . . never . . .

Obviously the moment Kyle drank the pee they were all rescued, since is was discovered that the antidote to anger caused by the overexposure to pee is bananas. And yes, the part where the monkeys got angry while getting urinated on was hilarious and disgusting.

Funny enough, I loved that Kyle hated bananas so much and had to eat one after drinking the pee. Why? My wife loves most foods but HATES bananas. She finds them revolting, particularly the smell. Sometimes to be cruel when we’re at the grocery store I’ll hold a bunch of bananas behind her head and then say her name so that she turns around and finds them there. She hates that. I’m very mature.

This wasn’t a killer episode like a few of the other poignant ones this season, but it was amusing, particularly the unbearably racist sentiments that got called out and exposed for being illogical: minorities are beginning to make up the majority. Get used to it. It’s okay and that’s where things were going. We’re all immigrants – thanks White Stripes.

An interesting aside: there was a commercial for Avatar during South Park, which is interesting because last week’s episode made fun of Avatar and showed South Park being really angry that the movie was ripping off something else (I asked what that something else was but nobody knew to tell me).

What’d you think of this episode? Did you like it? What did you think about the 13th season? Which episode was your favorite.

Get a FREE Bonus Chapter from The Zen of South Park. Check out reviews of other episodes this season.

This is some real shit…

(I’ll preface this [and sadly I feel as if I should... Thanks society!!] by saying, it’s all a god damn joke, so stay calm! And laugh if the urge strikes.)

Joshua: whad up homie b, you know who it be… the fuckin king on the mic also known as King MC. Now tell me whats real, whats really the deal. You have a good day or lookin to appeal? You know i did my shit, you know this and that. Always on the hunt lookin to attack, gettin that money like i dos. First it was just greens, now im seein blues? fuck it, pinks and yellows too. And i be thinkin, whats gottin into the Jew? Money changin colors like a rainbow poo. But what you up to? How you been feelin? And if you love my rhymes but em up to the ceilin. Pump that shit up like a flat ass tire. And let me hear what you sellin, ill be your first buyer…..

Scottie: Damn son- out of know where with your silly ass spittin’ Words raining like rocks and still none hittin’.Guess I’m so gansta the gods part for me. And when I start spittin’ I’ll part more than a red sea. Nigga- you’ll see. I’ll part your hair right down the middle. And give you a cowlick back for each kiddie riddle. Should grab your lunch pale and send you to school. I thought we stepping up the game- and you drop a stool? Not cool homie- but I understand. Not everyone can be as real as me man. You’re one lost boy- I’m hook, roofio, and peterpan! Now this ain’t a fairy story- no happy ending.I’ll have to start chargin’ for the words I’m lending.You with your notebook- what a chickflick. And me on the couch callin’ clowns limpdicks. Now I ain’t gonna call you out if you hittin’ really. But if you were you wouldn’t be spittin’ this early. Back to the drawing boards- back to the facts. I got what Asians, Mexicans, and Persians lack. A sense of humor- with riddle-like tendencies. You really sure you want to start playing cage match wordsies. So you took a bite too big for you- I’ll laugh and point as you choke- NIGGA CHEW! Oh- my bad. Nigga bless you- bless you. I thought we was fighting to the death- who knew. Makes sense you seeing blue- that’s what happens when my rhymes choking you. Don’t get too giddy- we far from through. You’re a dirty joke like a shit in a shoe. Floppy ass laces like loose as spaghetti. When you’re ready to battle- let a nigga know- I’m ready.

Joshua: Wow, homie i was comin nice and clean, even askin you how your day had been. But you so on guard when my rhymes roll through you can even tell the difference between beef and a hello to your crew. but that coo we can do that to. i can give you what you ask for but i aint doin it for you. naw dog, this spittin comes from inside and it will swallow your pride. You know swallow? Like what you did last night. I was just walkin by and i seen you on your knees. i didnt know you got down in alley ways, i was like “oh gees”. but you didnt hear me tho. You was to busy bro. up down side to side, you was doin a crazy blow. i just had to keep walkin shakin my head. thinkin “what happened to my man” As you about to be fed. See dog, i aint trippin one bit when you challange the champ. Cause everyone agrees i gots something YOU lack. Its the sense of whats coming as i set to attack. Its the fight in the guts of a man whos true. Its the foundation, the structure, its the fucking glue. its the walls, the windows, its the whole damn buildin. And when i stand up next to you, nigga you be crumpelin. i send you wack ass tumbelin. Cant say shit, you fumblin and bumblin. Bitch nigga im the rilla. yous just a trick ass fella. Speckled cracker mothafucka you been dipped in vanilla. Your ass is like clear dog. what you think you be offerin? Girls just walk by they cant even see your ass wonderin. You invisable nigga, you dont mean nothin. My rhyme game is cookin, you coming baked like a muffin. Step down bro and get your act together. Im the heavyweight here. I aint fuckin with a feather.

Cumbia Psicodélica @ D’Antigua featuring Sonido Martines, M.A.K.U. Soundsystem, and DJ/Rupture.

This one’s from Diggers Realm.

Napolitano States Borders Now Secure
Diggers Realm

Did you know the borders are now secure? Apparently the Department of Homeland Security and its leader Janet Napolitano are trying to make you think that the borders are secure. I have proof otherwise though. All you have to do is go to the website
Border Invasion Pics (the image to the right is a still frame from a video there), where volunteers have set up cameras along our border and then upload video of the continued stream of unknown illegal aliens crossing our border daily by the thousands.

Apparently our Department of Homeland Security is too stupid to actually do a quick search of the internet to see that our borders are just as open and vulnerable to illegal aliens and terrorists as they have been for decades.

Don’t tell that to agenda-driven Napolitano and the Obama Administration though. They want you to believe that you are more secure today. so that tomorrow they can pass amnesty for illegal aliens.

AP

The Obama administration has met many of the border security benchmarks Congress set in 2007 as a prerequisite to immigration reform and now it’s time to change the law, Homeland Security Secretary Janet Napolitano said Friday.

…

“Fast-forward to today, and many of the benchmarks these members of Congress set in 2007 have been met,” she said in a speech…

Then Napolitano, a person who as governor of Arizona presided over the massive invasion of illegal aliens into her state and saw Phoenix become the kidnap capital of the United States, tries to play the “I’m experienced at fighting illegal immigration” card. It’s the equivalent of having Charles Ponzi in charge of the New York Stock Exchange.

“I’ve been dealing hands-on with immigration issues since 1993, so trust me: I know a major shift when I see one, and what I have seen makes reform far more attainable this time around,” Napolitano said.

No one is fooled though who has actually watched the illegal immigration crisis in this country. And yes, there are still a few good people in Congress who are speaking out.

“How can they claim that enforcement is ‘done’ when there are more than 400 open miles of border with Mexico, hundreds of thousands of criminal and fugitive aliens and millions of illegal immigrants taking American jobs?” said Rep. Lamar Smith of Texas, the top Republican on the House Judiciary Committee, which oversees immigration and border issues.

Outright lies from this administration and Napolitano.

Well said, Digger.

Google Maps’ Street View captures the rawness (and surreality) of DF street life. (h/t: longdrivesouth)

WordPress es un amor. Nos deja tener un control absoluto sobre nuestro blog sin tener que darle nada a cambio. Es como la mujer perfecta.

Hay un apartado que nos dice los enlaces por los cuales la gente nos encuentra en este mar llamdo Internet. Por ejemplo, si ustedes buscan “qwrtyp wordpress” en google, yahoo o cualquier buscador que tengan, nuestro lindo servicio de blog nos dirá cuantas veces lo hicieron, que día, y bajo que demás palabras tuvieron que agregar para estar en esta linda página. Estos son los de esta semana:

Lo que sabemos, a la gente le encanta Selena Gomez, y su bikini atrae las miradas de respetables caballeros alrededor del mundo. Su hermana Selina también tiene éxito entre los internautas, casi tanto como la tal Miranda Cosgrove y su “panocha”. Y los amigos internacionales de Lala, nuestra ex-colaboradora, están muy enojados con las tareas que les deja el santo Club Rotario.

Esperen las de la próxima semana, ¡pederastas virtuales!

Last names in Spanish are broken down into several categories : Patronymic & Matronymic Surnames – Based on a parent’s first name. Many of the most popular Hispanic last names fall into this category.  Names in this group are often made by adding -ez, -az, -is, or -oz to the end of a father’s first name.  For example : Leon Alvarez = Leon son of Alvaro. Another type of last name is :Occupational Surnames – these are of course last names which are based on the person’s job or trade. EXAMPLE:  Roderick Guerrero – Roderick the warrior or soldier Yet another last name category is that of , Descriptive Surnames – stemming  from a unique quality or physical feature of the individual, this type often developed from nicknames or pet names EXAMPLE: Juan Delgado – John the thin. Geographical Surnames – The most common type of Spanish surname, these Hispanic last names are derived from the location of the homestead from which the first bearer and his family lived  EXAMPLE:  Ricardo de Lugo – Ricardo from the town of Lugo.

LIST OF POPULAR LAST NAMES IS SPANISH

SOURCE : http://genealogy.about.com/cs/surname/a/spanish_names.htm

GARCIA =There are several possible origins for this popular Hispanic surname: