The Date: You know what I, the Yank, love about America? I love that we as a country are so audacious that we will take another country’s holiday and – without worrying who we might offend – put our own spin on it. I also love that our spin on the “international” holiday always involves binge drinking. Think about it. Cinqo de Mayo is celebrated in Mexico because back in the 1860s some Mexican hero kicked some serious French ass at the Battle of Puebla.
In America, it is celebrated because we like tequila.
The Hate: It’s not just Cinqo de Mayo though. You can also add St. Patrick’s Day (Irish), the month of October (German), that first obese Tuesday and its ensuing weeks (French) and even the occasional firecracker accident (Chinese New Year). We Yanks like to make the things that are special about your culture our own (we are a melting pot), and when we make things our own, binge drinking inevitably becomes involved. So, I guess what I am saying is… er… I’m drunk.
The Fate: Yeah, I think that last margarita might have been a little too superior. Listen, I like Mexico. I always have had fun there. I don’t like the country’s soccer team, but I generally like it’s people and I have no beef with them. In fact, I want to have more beef with them. Beef enchiladas. Beef tacos. Beef stuffed chile relleno. No, wait, I don’t want that. That’s what made me sick last night. Yet, it was so delicious. Must… not… give… in… to… chalupa… Huh? Que?
This may be the worst holiday of the year…
Fitting that this would be my worst post too, no?