I sit at a bar and I count how many are like me, I count two in a room of 30, one is a bar back Latinx and one is an African American bartender, I’ve done this since I realized that I am the other, and I need to find allies quick, in case shit goes down, in case there’s a race war
I order thai food from a food truck and the señor making the food could be my primo, while the Asian owner takes my order
This guy Juan Faura is all pissed off because burritos aren’t just the way he wants them to be anymore. Now they have icky stuff in them. Breakfast stuff sometimes. Bleu cheese even. The Horror!
Bleu cheese and chikken (yes with two Ks) with thyme “burrito” really? Burrito? What is going on? I’ll tell you what’s going on, someone has come in the dead of night and quietly, with full knowledge and malice, abducted our beloved “burrito”.
Definitions can be either prescriptive or descriptive. You can prescribe that a puro pizza must be made with tomato, basil and cheese only, or it isn’t really a pizza. Or describe that in wacky Califas, we have Thai barbecued chicken pizzas, and carnitas picsa and Oh! there’s The Horror again.
People are always trying to keep things “pure.” In Spain, the Royal Academy wants to regulate Spanish. Words they don’t like — new words, loan words, Spanglish words that are actually spoken — are forbidden. They fight a losing battle, because the only constant in language is change, despite the king and his court.
So, what if I could find tits and fish sticks all in one place? A one-stop shop for all my breast and seafood needs?
This is what’s on my mind today after Gorton’s fun website snafu. They launched a web page for Spanish-speaking Latina moms this week, and left one teeny tiny accent off a fairly important word. They turned mothers and seafood into, well, something a whole lot raunchier than what they probably intended.