Seeing as today is Cinco De Mayo, I thought I would republish something I wrote this day last year in the old Journalspace journal... for those of you who are newish, or for those of you who have been sniffing glue and need to be reminded what I thought then... because I still think it now. I've edited it down a tad, but. It still holds up:
Cinco de What Now?
Originally Posted 5/5/04
I wish that people would learn a little bit about the history and wherewithal behind Cinco de Mayo before they went out and sucked down a million Margaritas and Coronas. It's kind of sad that other cultures have holidays or dates of note and we're turning it into a "week of festivities and boozin it up Mexican style!" as a local radio station stated.
Ten years ago this holiday wasn't on any American's radar screen. Is it only because Mexico is so close to us geographically that us gringos are latching on to this full force for a party hearty week of festivities? Or is it just clever marketing from Dos Equis and Corona beer distributors?
If it were the geographical angle, we'd see people going nuts, cranking Anne Murray, Loverboy, Brian Adams and Rush and drinking Molson and Labatts like a bunch of drunken mounties on Canada Day (actually, that describes me pretty much every weekend, with BNL driving the mix. Canada Rocks, yo). I'm inclined to see it as a ruse on the part of the booze distributors to get your ass out there and drink more Jose Cuervo and eat more nachos. They're very salty, those nachos. And they make you thirsty, so you'll drink piss poor Corona beer and call it a holiday.
You sorry-assed American! You've been tricked into being a money-bleeding consumer. Cinco de Mayo is nothing more than an opportunity for you to hand over your hard earned money to beer distributors. It's veiled as a fun "holiday" where you can let your inner Frat Boy shine. Just like St. Patty's day. (Which, if you know anything, is an actual holy day in Ireland. People are sober and in church all day thanking St. Patrick for all he did for the island, and not throwing up green beer in the streets and listening to the fife and drum Police Band from Southie).
Well, isn't it true that EVERY American holiday is either a big excuse to give your money away or to get drunk? From Easter to Christmas it's a marketing bonanza. Forget mother's day -- the drunkenest day on the calendar by far here in America. Woo, is that one a messy holiday in these parts. All that money given to Hallmark and flower stores, and all that White Zinfandel flowing down the gullets of wiped out moms everywhere.
But. In comparison to living in Chechnya or Iraq at this time, I'll take the consumer driven culture of this country any day. At least there are things to consume, or choose not to consume. Market at me as hard as you want, call it a week of boozing it up Mexican Style if you want. Pass the buffalo wings and a cold low-carb brew.
If you're going to indulge, go learn about it first and know what you're celebrating. And remember, Pacifico is a much better beer than Corona, if you're interested in slugging back a few cerveza mas fina.
So yesterday I mentioned Marc Broussard and a few people asked who he was. Do look him up if you like cajun infused tunage. You can hear "home" first, and then the fourth track is pretty sexy. I like track 9 and 10 from what I hear from the samples. I may just have to i-Tunes those in addition to Home. He has a voice that is all over the map, strange soft and swet, then souly and gritty like Luther Freakin' Vandross. As Jo would say "Meow."
The thing I greatly DISlike about him is that just about every damn track starts with him Moaning Something. "mmmmmmmmmm, mmm, mmmm, mmmmmmm...." Uh, yeah. EVERY song? Why?
My sister tells me my parents withdrew their offer on the trailer, so I don't know the deal with them right now. I need to give her a call and ask what the deal is. I also need to call my sister in law and ask how our nephew is doing. I presume he is doing okay, because we haven't heard anything from anyone to the contrary.
Communication -- it's a wonderful thing. That's why I keep this journal. Anyone can read it and say "oh. That's what's going on with them. Nice!"
Right then. What else is going on? Work was crazy today. We had a confused woman call us today who got a shipment of something and had no idea why. I'm glad I sit in the middle of the office and hear everyone else's conversations and knew to ask one very crucial question in order to figure out exactly why she had the big box of stuff she had. My buddy M and I researched it and I felt like I was so hot shit helpin' out the operations team. Heh. I'm so damn cool. But you already knew that.
Oh -- and C took a flash class this week, and now she knows how to do all that motion stuff that I spent three straight days crucifying myself over. I hope she'll share the knowledge.
Doug got sent out to central MA today to a nursing home to do coverage there, so he won't be home until at least 7. I have to figure out what to do for dinner, we have like nothing whatsoever here and I so do not feel like hitting the market. Meh. Who around here can deliver a couple dozen really good buffalo wings? Answer -- no one. We live in East Jesus MA, and no buffalo wing delivery exists here.
Actually, it could be worse. We can get pizza delivered that isn't half bad. But I long for the days when we lived on East Charlesgate in Boston and there was a hot wings store on Commonwealth that delivered. Ooooooh. Our first three months of marriage were spent ordering wings. That's why I'm huge like house.
Right. I got nothin. I'm pretty dull and boring. That's about all. More later.
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