A Week in the Life of Gustavo

"Seems to think that if he fails to write, la migra will find him."--OC Weekly More merriment available at ronmaydon@yahoo.com

segunda-feira, março 31, 2003

It's getting better all the time.

It can't get any worse

Of course it can--to both.
Life is so strange but what are you going to do about it except glide?

School starts today. God willing, in 11 weeks I would have graduated from UCLA with a masters degree in Latin American Studies, emphasis in history, sociology, and anthropology.

God willing.

domingo, março 30, 2003

Back to black.

sábado, março 29, 2003

Sorry, forgot the quote for the previous entry...

"If there's any hope for America, it lies in a revolution, and if there's any hope for a revolution in America, it lies in getting Elvis Presley to become Che Guevara," Ochs proclaimed.

"Because if you don't do that, you are beating your head against the wall or the cops are beating your head against the wall."

I hope I don't have blood on my hands.

sexta-feira, março 28, 2003

More history from Daily Rotten

Mar 28 1996

78 people apparently perish in a fire at the Pasar Anyar shopping center in Bogor, West Java. The estimate is lowered to 10 after it is discovered that most of the dead are store mannequins.

quinta-feira, março 27, 2003

I'm better now, I really am.

Lesson:

Don't let the public invade the private.

Enough said.
It's always interesting how when one lets down their guard, the attacks come mightily and ruthlessly. Is it any wonder why I wield my sword?

Perhaps I'm too paranoid--scratch, that, I am. But my character is based on experience, not neuroses. I'm not protective of myself just because I think people will take advantage of me, but because I know. It always happens, it always happens, it always happens.

And yet I persevere. One of my favorite quotes is from The Grapes of Wrath, in which Ma Joad declares how the poor always survive. I'm not poor by any means--I'm a spoiled suburbanite kid who's incredibly sheltered from any real problems. But I do survive. It's getting tiresome constantly surviving, though. I want to live.

The public persona of me shall always remain steely, tactiturn (sp?). The private cries.

quarta-feira, março 26, 2003

Always the same, always the same.

I'm getting sick of it.
--
Probably the best site right now for news on the war.
We're not content with keeping the immorality to ourselves, so we have to enlist our mammalian brothers.

Consult the monkeys and the dolphins fast!

terça-feira, março 25, 2003

Why is it only society's rejects attend City Council meetings?
Why can't the most inconsequential items be dealt with first and meatier issues be saved until the end?
Why do reporters live outside the communities they're supposed to serve?

So many questions, but I need to write stories.

segunda-feira, março 24, 2003

One of the more incredulous feelings I've had in the past week is witnessing the dawning realization to many that the war in Iraq will not be easy. I cannot possibly comprehend the arrogance the war's supporters had in sizing up the Iraqi forces. Now, "coalition" men and women are being slaughtered (and how many Iraqis) and even Bushie acknowledged that we might be in for a tougher war than expected.

Really? Are the neocons truly that disassociated from reality that they didn't expect the Iraqis to defend their lands against invaders?

I'll finish this thought later...my computer's messing up. If it's not one thing, it's another.

domingo, março 23, 2003

When it rains, it pours. If it pours, it floods. If it floods, it submerges.

My world is currently the friggin Marianas Trench.

BTW, here are some links to find out news on what's going on in Iraq:

Drudge Report

The old stand-by has dropped considerably.

More later. For now, the pain of waiting.

sábado, março 22, 2003

Bloody hell. $1,500 for writing. That is the cost the IRS has deemed necessary for my contributions to the world.

I must become a better person lest I become a true island--and not one of those good Hawaiian islands, but rather the leper colony.
So much bizarre shit in this world, I'm not sure where to start. So I'll go to what's my savior since I've given up the Simpsons, for Lent, the world's greatest website

Mar 22 1923

Marcel Marceau's birthday. Fucking mimes.

quinta-feira, março 20, 2003

More. This one is on Jose Padilla...

Absent a job and a visible role in the community, Padilla didn't leave large footprints in South Florida during this time, save for a steady stream of traffic violations for lousy driving, which even Islam couldn't cure.
Sorry, I'm currently loathing myself. Here's something to enliven your day from Rotten's library about John Walker Lindh...

It was the classic old story: Boy meets sadistic militarized theocracy, boy falls in love with sadistic militarized theocracy, boy loses sadistic militarized theocracy. Lindh told CNN that while he was studying in Pakistan, he read some sales brochures and "my heart became attached to [the Taliban]." Ah, young love!

Will post something good tomorrow...that is, later on today.

quarta-feira, março 19, 2003

So much for our brave American journalists.

Instead, they're "embedded" (read: suppressed) amongst units ready to smash some Iraqi infrastructure!
How can one concentrate on anything with this horrific anticipation.

And yet we roll on.

terça-feira, março 18, 2003

Saw Monsoon Weddingwith the RP. Great film, great time spent. Still working on final. World might end soon. What's a brother supposed to do except write?

segunda-feira, março 17, 2003

So Cheney likes the fact that Bushie depicts himself as a cowboy.

Word to the wise: the West Cheney, et al. hold dear to their heart lasted but a few years. The best Westerns, whether Shane, The Searchers, The Man who Shot Liberty Valance, or The Wild Bunch, were not about the glorification of the West but rather depicted the final days of mayhem. Our current Western will soon come to an end. Whether we meet the fate of the Indians or of progress can only be divined by the Divine.
Let's rock and roll.

domingo, março 16, 2003

For some reason, I'm still sick.

Sana, sana, colita de rana
Si no te alivias hoy, que te alivies ma~ana


Or something like that.
More history from the Daily Rotten freaks...

Mar 16
St. Urho's Day, Patron saint of Finnish vineyard workers. Attributed to him is the miracle of banishing grasshoppers from Finland which he accomplished with a few choice Finnish phrases, thereby saving the season's grape crop. But in reality a bunch of very drunk people made this up in 1956.

Here's a picture of the handsome chap...

sábado, março 15, 2003

A review of the infamous white-supremacist tome The Turner Diaries by the folks at Rotten...

As literature, of course, it's nothing but an abject failure. The writing is stiff, the characters are ridiculously one-dimensional, the plot monotonous, and the premise as droll as you can get. The end result comes off sounding like it was written by a skinhead stuck in study hall for a week with nothing else to do.

Above all, the book is just plain boring. But if you read it for insight into the dreams of a committed white supremacist, it might be worthwhile. Just be sure to keep an abundant supply of caffeine handy.

God bless those guys...
The RP and I were supposed to go dancing some funk with the Fabulous G sisters. Problem was, the RP invited her friend (hilarious guy N) whose girlfriend was under 21. Rather than just ditch them, we took them to Lee's Sandwiches. Two more converts. After we dropped them off, the RP and I went back to Que Sera in Long Beach...only to find it with a long line of people waiting to get in. We were originally the first people there. Oh well. She said she had a wonderful night; so did I.

Here's something I read off the world's greatest website's library but which originally came out in The Onion...

"I tell them I don't need drugs to get high or be cool:
I can do it with alcohol, my anti-drug."

sexta-feira, março 14, 2003

Unless something out of the ordinary happens, I will not have an article in the Weekly next week for the first time in almost a year. Cal Ripken can rest in peace.

quinta-feira, março 13, 2003

Class is finally over. But how about graduation?

The RP is well. Tomorrow, she might be ecstatic. Pray for her.

quarta-feira, março 12, 2003

For some bizarre reason, a lot of people are reading this infernal blog, as this chart attests to. Why is it? And why is it these same people are not giving a brother a ring.

I know most of these readers are bored out of their box and therefore read my rants, so I try to balance this out with some fascinating links or excerpts from the world's greatest website. Here's another random morsel. This one's actually from the fine British magazine the Fortean Times...

It's about Thomas the Tank Engine making kids insane.

Now off to sleep.
Don't do it; be it.
Here's a mention on the blog of Res Ipsa Loquitur, a Berkeley conservative who happens to be my friend. I have a lot of conservative friends...

THUMBS UP FROM MI HERMANO

Not every leftist hates me. After all, we all just want to make the world a better place from our own ideological poles. In fact, many of my readers are avowedly leftist, like prominent Latino journalist Gustavo Arellano:

My comment: I'm not that prominent. Back to Res' post, which now has an email from me...


Your Tapatio posting was hilarious! I personally prefer Tapatio to Tabasco, but only because I find Tabasco too vinegary for my tastes. I do appreciate its Cajun vintage, however. And, of course, both the sauces are nothing compared to real mother-fucking SALSA!

While we’re on the subject of hot sauces, read my article comparing Sriracha with Tapatio. That elitist Chicano don’t know shit about his hot sauces.

And for the record: I could drink Tapatío from the tap. It’s that wimpy. Give me Valentina!

Hope everything is well,

Gustavo

[accent marks modified since I have an Engish language keyboard]

Thanks for the kind words, Gustavo--but damn you! I thought my hot sauce analysis was original, and then you had to go and rain on my parade by showing me that you have done this before. For those of you who do not know, Gustavo often does comparative analyses between Vietnamese and Mexican cuisine. And it always makes for a great read. Gustavo also rejects the color line associated with ethnic identity here.

My comment: I guess.

Also, I find it amusing when some people say I harbor racial animus towards "Latinos," considering that I have lived in Central Mexico for more than a year (collectively) over the past decade and probably know more about Mexican culture than your standard Ethnic Studies Ph.D. candidate. But hey, when do the facts matter when you are screaming "Racismo!?!"

Yes, Tabasco is vinegary, but sometimes that's what I want on my eggs. I'm not ready to admit that it is inferior, because I believe in buying AMERICAN in all of my self-righteous jingoism. I haven't had homemade mother-fucking salsa in a mother-fucking long time. I left my molcajete back In Santa Ana, so try not to rub in the fact that I haven't had a decent plate of Mexican food in almost two years, Gustavo. I have heard of some authetic food in the Mission District, but have yet to find any. So far, I haven't found anything even remotely edible or Mexican up here, which is a shame. In Santa Ana, I was a taco-eating machine: brains (sesos), tongue (lengua), buche (no accurate translation for what part of the cow that one is; I think its the throat region although it tranlates into stomach and some people tell me it is the cheeks), stomach lining (tripas), heart (corazon), deep fried pig's rump (carnitas), al pastor (pork but sometimes lamb), chorizo--I ate it all most every day. Up here, I find myself in Oakland Chinatown eating duck's tongue (they give you the whole barbecued head up here), chicken feet, shark's cartilage, pig's blood gelatin and other things that most people would never attempt to consume. In both cases, there are occasions when I am not sure of what is on my plate, but it's good! While Chinese is my staple diet up here (because it is cheap), it is more healthy than Mexican food. But what I long for is frijoles refritos con manteca. That shit is like manna from heaven (yes, that makes me a "beaner," and no, I don't weigh an ounce over 170 despite being six feet tall and a voracious eater of everything).

When you get up here Gustavo, I'll take you for an authetic Mongolian hot-pot, where they give you LIVE SHRIMP to boil at your table in a vat of boiling chicken broth heated by one of those propane camping-style hot plates. You have never tasted anything so sweet as a freshly boiled shrimp (it takes about 15-20 seconds to turn from grey to pink). Imagine yourself try to wrestle a live shrimp with chopsticks, only to have it go down spashing broth all over your shirt. Even though it's not like crab or lobster, which have a tendency to scream when boiled alive, it's still an experience not for the faint of heart. Bring a bib and a healthy appetite.

Back to the hot sauce, I would say chile-based Tapatio does have Mexican oregano and bay leaf (I can tell what those "especias" are) and cannot be substituted on certain foods. Equally, the chile-sugar-garlic base of Sriracha cannot be substituted for any other on noodles, and cannot compare to any other on the Filipino-style chicharrones. Moreover, Valentina is pretty damn good on harina chips and ice cold beer on a mild July afternoon in Morelia. I am, however, glad that someone also appreciates the diversity of the chile pepper and doesn't try to claim cultural hegemony over perceived "inferior" chile sauces.

All of this cultural comparison poses a question for Gustavo: How is a Quincanera any different than a Bat Mitzvah? And doesn't Tsingtao taste very similar to Dos Equis? These might be a good articles to write for our elitist, cultural-racial-ethnic supremacist, anti-Semitic, Chicano-warrior class.

End of posting. My pockets hurt.
More history fromthe greates website ever...

Mar 12 1964

Malcolm X withdraws from the Nation of Islam after he finds out that Elijah Mohammad has been porking his secretaries.

terça-feira, março 11, 2003

Did a phone interview with the head of Haldiram's USA, a Indian snack food company. Great lady, great food. Order it online.

Spent the rest of the day on work and school. Then went over to the RP's house and helped her clean her room. Then we kissed. Isn't life romantic?

We're going to war soon. And judging by the the movement to rename French fries "freedom fries" (I'm looking for a link), we deserve it.

segunda-feira, março 10, 2003

Things are really crazy right now. But things are also much better than my last posting. I'm almost there...
I'm sick of it all.
Sometimes I even shock myself in how much work I put upon this wiry frame.

domingo, março 09, 2003

From time to time, I Google myself to see who's posting my articles where and what they're saying about me. My Michelle Malkin piece was posted on the conservative forum Free Republic under the category "Hit Pieces."

Damn right it was a hit piece. But I didn't do any of the hitting--Malkin took care of the bruises all by herself. Nevertheless, here are some comments regarding my article along with my own comments...


Typical leftist rant.
They try to demonize and belittle the person espousing the ideas, but they don't offer any refutation.

Of course I wouldn't have any refutation in the course of my article. I'm not debating Malkin in this piece; I'm providing a dispatch.

'Way Out There With Them!' - Columnist Michelle Malkin finds home amongst local immigrant-bashers
-- snip --

Such reasoning finds an especially receptive audience at meetings of the fanatically anti-immigration California Coalition for Immigration Reform (CCIR).

It seems that the author [and his editor] conveniently MISSED the operative word here...
Please allow me you to HELP you, Gustavo.
What you SHOULD HAVE written was:
'Way Out There With Them!' - Columnist Michelle Malkin finds home amongst local illegal immigrant-bashers
__ snip --

Such reasoning finds an especially receptive audience at meetings of the fanatically anti-illegal immigration California Coalition for Immigration Reform (CCIR).

Thanks for the advice RonDog, but I liked it the way I wrote it. Besides, that's the accurate way. Where you there when she imitated an Ethiopian and Swedish accent for laughs. That's pretty anti-immigrant for me

Gustavo you snivelling little ninnie. We could call you an illegal alien lover, but what would that accomplish?

Are you unable to discuss this issue rationally?

Greatest ad hominem ever

That's all the fun for now. Back to work.
Why Michael Jackson is truly insane. Courtesy of the world's greatest website's encyclopedia...

Michael Jackson is obviously, irrefutably, incontrovertibly insane. He is just totally nuts, and we can prove it. The evidence is undeniable.

But it has nothing to do with the skin lightening or the endless plastic surgeries. That's definitely vain, and probably unhealthy, but not strictly psychotic. Jackson decided years ago that he wanted to resemble the sarcophagus mask of Tutankhamen. That's fine by us. Let the man chip away at his facial bones. After all, they belong to him.

Nor is there anything necessarily wrong with enjoying the company of young boys in one's bed, even if you're living under persistent accusations of being a pedophile. Innocent until proven guilty, that's what we always say.

Also, you can't blame a guy for marrying a Scientologist. Lisa Marie was cute. Well, kinda. And besides, she was Elvis' daughter. Famous people are always attracted to other famous people. Nobody knows why.

Likewise, lots of people do dangerous things to their infant children. Although whereas most parental fuckups are on the order of feeding honey to their baby, Jackson's was dangling his kid over a fifth-floor balcony. What do you want? People make mistakes.

We can confidently declare Michael Jackson nuts because of his guest appearance in episode 7F24 of The Simpsons. He voiced the character of an obese, caucasian mental patient claiming to be Michael Jackson. He answered to Jackson's name. He spoke, danced, sang, played music, and composed songs just like Jackson. And he was intimately familiar with the minutiae of Jackson's life. Not only is Michael Jackson in the episode, but the story is explicitly about him. The name "Michael Jackson" is spoken eight times during the course of the show.

Despite those facts, Jackson used a pseudonym, and a pathetic one at that. He was listed in the credits as "John Jay Smith."

If Jackson entertained the notion for even a split second that anyone wouldn't recognize his voice, then he is clinically delusional and should be restrained.

I remember the heavy promotion for that episode--I do believe they screened a Michael Jackson special when it originally aired. This was the beginning of the Simpsons courtship of celebrity guests. Some have been great (Sir Gary Coleman) others not (umm...I'm not sure). I gave up the Simpson for Lent and am now reduced to reading about it, just like Bart Read Norman Mailer's nove of "Itchy and Scratchy: the Movie"
A description of Donald Rumsfeld from the greatest website ever...

If Afghanistan was the "Royal Rumble" for this former wrestler, the Bush administration's intense focus has made Iraq into the main event at "Wrestlemania," with the championship belt on the line. Rumsfeld and Saddam even have the kind of history usually reserved for wrestling storylines — once buddies in mayhem, now they're on opposite sides. All he needs is a catch-phrase!

"Can you smel-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l what Iraq is cookin'?"
Hung out with the Augie gang yesterday for the first time in too long. Took 'em to Noorani's for some good Pakistani pradials. They loved it.

I realized yesterday in the course of Augie's performance I'm not happy with school anymore. I dread it.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep

quinta-feira, março 06, 2003

I see the light at the end of the tunnel--then the train of reality ran me over.

I'm perfectly fine, but I don't appreciate surprises caused by my own apathy.

Off to a concert. My back itches but my heart glows.
Saw Kinky yesterday with the RP. We had so much fun.

The maxim is true: I am my own worst enemy. And so I fast, not only for peace, not only to commemorate my faith in God, but also so that I might get the humility and patience to become better.

terça-feira, março 04, 2003

Seafood is good and all, but man should also subsist on land. Back to work.

segunda-feira, março 03, 2003

Things are so hectic right now.

Went to the Pastilla/Volumen Cero/Juguete/Go Betty Go gig at the Roxy last night--alone. The RP was with her mother ironing. All the bands were good, although I was most impressed with Juguete. They're going to be as prominent as the other bands--which is to say, be cult classics.

Got home around 1 from the concert but typed up the story for the overlords up the 5-to-the-101. Woke up at 6:30 to whip it into shape. I've only slept for 4 hours three of the past four days. How's that for rest?

domingo, março 02, 2003

From the Rotten.com library...

Kaufman's fetish for Elvis manifested itself in his stage act. Starting in nightclubs and eventually continuing on to network television, Andy created an entirely new genre of hell for the American people: Elvis impersonation. He was the first person to publicly, and repeatedly perform in the garb and persona of Elvis Presley. Today, thousands of fat retarded losers follow in Kaufman's misled footsteps. Thanks, Andy.
It used to be that journalism was a job for people with no talents (actually, that's how it still can be characterized today). But nowadays, most journalists have pleasant little middle-class lives and live in Silver Lake.

I told the RP yesterday that--like a Franciscan monk--I''ve taken a vow of poverty. Now if I only take up drinking and smoking, I'll be the world's best journalist.

Now, for some news from the world's greatest website...

Woman beats her kids with dildo

The coming American empire

Our sell-out of the Kurds...again

The story above in particular has rankled my otherwise good Sunday morning

They shouldn't do it in the road...

No more. More Venezuela!

sábado, março 01, 2003

Weird day in history from who else?...

Mar 1 1978

The body of Charlie Chaplin is stolen for ransom by Galtcho Ganav (Bulgaria) and Romnan Wardas (Poland) from a cemetery in Corsier, Switzerland. The actor's corpse is recovered two months later.