I started to write, “Not only is it Friday, it’s Cinco de Mayo Eve!”…… when it occurred to me that I’d written exactly that line once before. So I went rummaging through the mildewed archives and discovered the following from 2007, in a long-deceased blog:
Not only is it Friday, it’s Cinqo de Mayo Eve! When even people who aren’t lucky enough to be real live Mexicans can act drunk and ignorant and celebrate a holiday that most Mexicans consider less important than Yom Kippur and Bastille Day! When the Cinqo Burro kicks down the door and spits unopened bottles of Partida and Don Julio Reposado at little boys and girls who maintained their AA programs all year!
“What are we doing to celebrate Cinqo de Mayo?” Guido asks me this morning as we shower together.
Getting drunk and having sloppy sex, I answer promptly.
“Pick one or the other,” says Guido. “You know how it is.”
Women. Steeped in the realities of men’s limitations, not buoyed by the fantasies of men’s masturbatory dreams.
Okay, stop the tape. I was very proud of that last paragraph, and honored when Manola submitted the following comment:
Jayzus Jeebus, if that doesn’t say it all, what does? Guido is lucky to have your sweaty self! Would you mind if wrote my next novel based on that line?
Manola, what’s mine is yours, even the infectious parts. How’s the novel coming? Did I warrant a footnote or at least a toe ring?
Hose B, who still blesses this blog with his acid observations, suggested the following:
Take every excuse you can find to get drunk and sloppy, of course, but keep in mind that Cinco de Mayo celebrates a Mexican triumph over the French. A French defeat is ALWAYS worth celebrating. And there are so MANY of them!
To which You May Call Me Pierre replied:
Years after, we understand the defeat as a blessing: the French have no interest in or need to filthy their hands with the affairs of the Mexicans, who remain mired in third world status hundreds of years later. Had we prevailed at the battle, no doubt the French would still be deeply and distressingly involved with the remainder of North America as well, including you Stateside savages, the castaway detritus of Europe.
Mon dieu, Pierre! Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose, oui? And along comes Living Will — who, like Hose B and Pierre, maintain a blogoid presence here:
Nice, Pee-air. Classic fox and the grapes. Why limit your losses when you can just rationalize them? If the rest of the world did nothing but celebrate French losses, there’d be no time to do anything but party.
Aaah, the memories — and it’s a damn good thing because Cinqo Celebrations usually get washed off the brain cells even as they happen.
This year we’ll be making a few more (memories, not brain cells): we have a party to attend in the neighborhood and while the holiday theme will be secondary, a few diehards will raise its specter.
“You drink,” says Guido. “I’ll drive.”
Who am I to argue? Maybe I’m French.