'Quelle est cette?!' The French soldier shouted as he came upon Mexican shores.
Thousands of Mexicans stood ready awaiting... awaiting... among Pottery Barns, H&Ms, and Apple stores. Thousands of Metaixcans, invisible awaiting entendre... entendre for baguettes and brie.
No mi compadres! Vamos! Vamos!
So it goes (a Vonnegut allusion for an ironic literary nod) - and it is Cinco de Mayo - a revolution against tyranny - a statement of identity - a future anticipation of raucous and ridiculous nights amongst Hummer driving frat bros in Old Town, San Diego.
Is this what we are fighting for? Like Taqueria Viva Mexico, I hope for a revolution. A burrito awaits-my gunnito-my trusty donkey to ward off Escargot. Charge with a veggie taco de harina, harina, harina! I pummel you with black beans! I pummel you with grated assorted 'jack' and 'yellow cheddar' cheese! I pummel you French bastards with a dislocated dollop of sour cream! I pummel you French silly wackos with all-too-cold guacamole! I pummel you with muted salsa! I pummel with too much lettuce?
A baguette flies past my ear... camembert ruptures my spleen. Chips (the French fry kind) fly into my esophagus (not from San Diego - damn their 'California Burrito').
I am slain... I am slain muchacho. Vaya con Dios mi amigo. And let flights of tostadas cruble too easily to thy rest (a Shakespeare allusion - 2nd ironic literary nod).
I hate Walnut Creek. I love Walnut Creek. (an Orwellian ironic allusion). Self reflexive nonsense; there I go again speaking to you about me speaking to you about speaking about an allusion-ridden metaphorical take on eating a burrito. Entropy. The French win in this version - no more Cinco De Mayo - metaphorically and literally. Vive la France!
Salsa Rating - blandly mild.
Written by? Casey Deeha
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