Hispanic Fanatic

Maybe you’re overjoyed that you survived the holidays.

Perhaps you’re looking forward to the new year, and you’re optimistic that 2022 will deliver on the potential that 2021 just didn’t deliver.

Or maybe you appreciate any excuse to drink at midnight.

In any case, this time of the year is notoriously slow for writers of political commentary. Plus, I recently had my third eye surgery in the last decade, and everything looks a bit fuzzy right now.

So when you add it all up, I have very little drive to write anything more insightful than “Happy New Year” and to wish you the best.

Take care, and see you in 2022.

We have somehow made it through the first calendar year of the worst president in modern American history (and quite possible the worst of all time).

When it comes down to it, the most positive thing I can say about 2017 is this:

At least Prince and David Bowie didn’t die again this year.

Anyway, I’m taking the rest of the year off. If you need me, I’ll be checking out a matinee of The Last Jedi.

Happy New Year.

Look, no one disputes that 2016 was an abysmal, horrific monstrosity of a year. It was the hottest year on record, we elected a sociopathic narcissist to the White House, and 1,893 of our favorite celebrities died. That’s bad.

But perhaps 2017 will be better.

Ha-ha, we’re just kidding. Because as everyone knows, the first year of the Trump presidency means, at best, pain and agony. At worst, it foretells the end of all civilization, and we will not debate whether 2018 will be any better, because none of us will exist, and all of America will look like this:

Still, let’s gather together to kick 2016 to the curb. I wish I could say that my hopes are high for 2017, but I would have to be on heavy narcotics to issue such an absurd declaration.

All I can say is thanks for reading, keep fighting the good fight, and see you next year.

For my last post of the year, I thought I would regale you with an amusing anecdote that happened to my mom.

She was standing in line at the post office, talking to my grandmother. As I may have mentioned, my grandmother is pushing 100, so it’s unlikely that she will learn English at this point. Therefore, my mom was speaking to her in Spanish.

Of course, that’s just asking for it.

A blustery man standing behind my mom yelled, “This is America. We speak English.”

Really, he said that.

My mom turned around and said, “Yes, this is America. And that means I can speak whatever I want.”

The man gasped and struggled for a rejoinder. Either he didn’t think my mom spoke English (and was stunned that she had understood him), or he just didn’t believe anyone would have the nerve to question his simplistic assertion to his face. Or maybe my mom’s statement — with its firm basis in legal, cultural, and historical fact — just flummoxed him.

Regardless, my mom let him have it for another minute or two, using such terms as “freedom” and “civil rights” and “pride.” And he just kept jabbering for a proper rebuttal.

With the dressing down complete, my mom turned back to my grandmother. Before she could resume their conversation, however, the man’s companion — presumably his wife — tapped my mom on the shoulder.

“Good for you,” the man’s wife said. “I keep telling him to shut up and keep his stupid opinions to himself. Now maybe he’ll listen.”

And the man said nothing.

So that’s your anecdote. OK, maybe it’s not as amusing as I implied. But it is funny. Parts of it, anyway.

Happy New Year.