Giving and Receiving

Dear Mexican:

After working with Mexicans for years, I have noticed that Mexican men have a double standard when it comes to homosexuality. Why is it that the “giver” is not regarded as being just as equally gay as the “receiver”?

El Vaquero

Dear Cowboy Gabacho:

I think all heterosexual societies condemn the catcher more than the pitcher, ¿qué no? If it seems that Mexicans exaggerate this idiotic double standard more than others, then blame their pendejo ancestors. The Aztecs reserved a harsher death sentence for a cuiloni (their term for the reamed in a homosexual tryst), whereas the Spaniards just killed anyone who practiced the amor that dare not speak its name. Some revisionist historians argue that the Spaniards distorted Aztec homophobia to reflect their own views (read “Aztec Homosexuality: The Textual Evidence,” by Geoffrey Kimball, for a fascinating comparison between modern-day translations of Aztec codices and those written by 17th-century padres that most of the world cites when referencing Mexican mores). But what’s indisputable is that the confluence of two macho societies created a hyper-masculinized raza cósmica that frowns upon gay men unless they’re flamin’. Times are changing, though. Last year, Mexico City approved civil unions for gays and lesbians, a small step on the road to eradicating Mexico’s rampant joto-hating and more proof of initiative than virtually every American municipality not governed by the mariposa agenda can show.

Dear Mexican:

Why do people think Mexicans have small dicks? My novio sure doesn’t!

Bobbi Bobblehead

Dear Gabacha:

And neither do I, chula! Lies aside, correlating penis length to ethnicity is a science as imprecise as building a border fence to keep out Mexicans. That said, out of hundreds of schlong-sized surveys the Mexican consulted, almost all concluded that the average Mexican verga ranked below gabachos and negritos on the pipi scale but ahead of chinitos. Who cares? It’s not the tamaño of the ship, but the motion of the océano that matters. Besides, Mexican men don’t obsess about how much chorizo they pack, the way gabachos do — we’re usually more concerned with beating them in the fertility game. And in that concern, Mexicans are veritable John Holmes to gabachos’ Howard Stern.

Dear Mexican:

I live in a master planned community, and our park isn’t public, that I know of. I passed by there the other day and saw a Mexican couple dry humping by the barbecue pits. I almost always see a Mexican couple showing way too much PDA in a park. Why is it that Mexicans are always making out in the park? Do trees make them horny?

Your Friendly Neighborhood Park Watcher

Dear Gabacho:

Por favor be more sympathetic to the plight of such Mexicans. Many of them still live at home with parents or room with a dozen other people, meaning privacy is impossible. Their paramours probably live in similar situations, and no-tell motels cost too much. The only places for such folks to steal kisses are the backseats of cars and parks. Let Mexicans make out, pervert! As long as they’re not putting the moves on you, you shouldn’t worry. And if letting wabs get their rocks off doesn’t sit well with you, then refry this: Mexicans are art lovers, and we love to re-create Manet’s “The Luncheon on the Grass” whenever possible.

Dear Mexican:

I always wondered why my Mexican lady from Los Angeles tasted so much better than all the señoritas from Texas. Was it the surf and turf or some other muff mystery?

Gringo Gourmand

Dear Gabacho:

Probably all that Velveeta those tejanitas eat.

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