The weather is warmer, the flowers are blooming and people are finally peeling back those excess clothing layers. As summer begins to rear its bright, sunny head, it's a given for toes to start poking up like Groundhog Day. However, in spite of the Summer Shoe Pledge reaching urban legend status, I'm still flabbergasted at women who walk out the house as if they've been stomping at the Bedrock quarry with Wilma & Betty till sunup. What the hell is up with broads wearing open toed slingbacks and beach thongs knowing good and well those pups are barking? And resemble spoiled meat? From the looks of some of the offenders I've already had the misfortune of seeing, I'm surprised my vision isn't blurred. If you can climb a tree in under a minute flat, skip the stilettos. Missing a pinky toe? Well, putting that blurb of nail polish on a widow's peak of skin is about as believable a camouflage as Dermablend on white clothing. The only place where crust is a good thing is at the bottom of a pastry dish. If your heels can double for week-old buttermilk biscuits, intensive lotioning sessions with Aquaphor ointment is a necessity. And trust, brothas aren't exempt from getting acquainted with the rough end of a pumice stone either. I can't tell you how many times I've had to make my ex-boyfriend stay put in my computer chair just because his feet felt like he could fly through the air, swoop down and catch rodents. Snagging up my good bed sheets and leaving me with puncture wounds. Real men don't have paws. Learn it, love it and spread the good word.

Chalk this one up as one of life's many little ironies. The average red-blooded American would be ready to flog the first orange seller on the freeway in outrage over re-recording the national anthem in Spanish, yet will gleefully take part in a pseudo holiday with absolutely no ties to the Stars and Stripes. Contrary to popular belief, today is not Mexican Independence Day. It commemorates the defeat of the French at the Battle Of Puebla some 140+ years ago. To be honest, I don't know much else about Cinco de Mayo. I'm sure there's a wonderful tale of a proud history in there somewhere and, if you're into that kind of thing, tune into the next lifeline Q&A on Millionaire. I'm sure it'll come up. What I do know is that Cinco De Mayo is the fifth day of May, it rhymes and is fun to say after a couple margaritas, and most people are usually closer to drunk than sober each year when it rolls around. And this year it's on a Friday. The man upstairs clearly had a Corona handy when it came to this year's schedule. And I prefer to call it as it really is: a damn good excuse to celebrate with food and drinks. Then again, I'm liable to turn just about anything into an excuse to celebrate with food and drinks. And since me and margaritas go together like Whitney Houston and failed rehab stints, I am so ready to blow this pop stand get the fiesta started right...tequila shots and an OD on guacamole awaits.

If you're culinary inclined and ready to put it down in the kitchen, here's a foolproof recipe for the most authentic Mexican this side of the Rio Grande:

30 Minute Chicken Tamales

i n g r e d i e n t s
6 cups Maseca Corn Masa mix for tamales
6 cups chicken broth
1 cup corn or other vegetable oil (corn will enhance the flavor)
2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 large rotisserie chicken
2 ½ 12 oz. jars green tomatillo sauce
1 bag corn husks

d i r e c t i o n s
Soak: the corn husks in warm water until soft.

Blend: Using an electric mixer, blend the masa flour (Maseca for Tamales), corn oil, salt, baking powder and the chicken broth to obtain a consistent mixture.

Shred: the chicken and marinate in the green salsa or tomatillo sauce.

Spread: masa evenly over corn husks, and spread a spoonful of marinated chicken on top of the masa.

Fold: the sides of the corn husk to center over the masa so that they overlap to make along package. Fold the empty part of the husk under so that it rest against the side of the tamale with a seam.

Place the tamales in a steamer and cook tamales for 35-40 minutes. Check every 20 minutes. The tamale is cooked when it separates easily from the corn husk.

Labels: Cinco De Mayo, recipe

Dry humor is the kind of tricky tightrope that's about as easy to get a handle on as Mo'Nique on a balance beam. Many have tried and failed, crashed and burned... but to see it crystallized at its acerbic best in such a sanitized setting that demanded that one's best foot be put forward... well, that's just fucking genius. Unless you've been sleeping under a rock, the shock waves of comic Stephen Colbert boldly heading into the lion's den at the White House Correspondents' Dinner this past Saturday has kept the web buzzing with reason. Considering the ginormous balls must've took to stand onstage just yards from a sitting U.S. President and his merry band of lackeys — resigned to seized submission in their seats by the coda of decorum & etiquette — middle finger raised to the powers that be — while the highlight reel of their never ending list of fuck-ups and failures played in their faces, Colbert's routine was the breakthrough media watchers have been waiting, damn near salivating for. In speaking truth to power in a way that's been all been abandoned under this lying, arrogant, self-righteous, conniving, monkey-faced, English-butchering bastard's reign as our commander & thief, this was Colbert's finest hour yet.

You can read the transcript of the verbal lashing in full here, however, since this has me giddier than Al Reynolds on a Fire Island field trip, c'mon and get click happy with a clip of the hijinks below. Mazel tov!

Labels: George W. Bush, Stephen Colbert

I guess it serves my ass right for letting my jones for chicken mole enchiladas with lip smackin' tomatillo sauce get in the way of realizing this was the designated date for the proverbial shit to hit the fan, so to speak. Paco and the gang was probably out in force at Union Square waving the red, green and white while the gringos left behind botched my order to high heaven. I completely blanked out about the nationwide protests and demonstrations that was scheduled on this designated "day without immigrants." You could say my ambivalence towards the date extends to where I currently stand on an issue that's gone from lukewarm to a hotbed of controversy faster than a Mexican driving in California without insurance.

Since I'm a first-generation American, I can certainly empathize with people who risk it all for a chance at a better life. As the daughter of naturalized citizens, how could I not want for others what my parents wanted for themselves? I certainly count myself as one who wants them to remain here, legally. If you go through the process of becoming a U.S. citizen, then I'll be personally be on the picket line also to petition on the behalf of those seeking all the rights and privileges deserved. Due the incentive created here: education, health, wealth and welfare benefits, these are advantages that anyone couldn't and wouldn't shy away from. The apparent taking of jobs by immigrants is a familiar scapegoat in the midst of the furor, yet unemployment were steadily climbing since 2003 with nary a peep till now. Would anyone give a damn if the faces occupying the landscaping, construction and service positions were filled with Canadians as opposed to those from Honduras or El Salvador?

However, there's certainly a distinction between peaceful rallies and retaliatory boycotts and work stoppages. Calculating on this economy just to prove how much they love it doesn't ring quite so sincere in an uphill battle. The quest to expose America as a stagnant prima donna lost without her worker bees and will then buckle and pass forgiving laws that loosen its borders and grant the 11 million to 12 million illegal workers their rightful place in the American landscape is wishful thinking at best. And sound bites such as the following only serves to aggravate the fuming natives...

Nineth Castillo, a 26-year-old waitress from Guatemala, said she has lived in the United States for 11 years "without a scrap of paper."

Asked whether she was afraid to parade her undocumented status in front of a massive police presence, she laughed and said: "Why? They kick us out, we're coming back tomorrow."

It's one thing to try and seek amnesty, but to be so arrogant about the situation has rubbed me the wrong way to their plight entirely. They're truly on some power trip as if being undocumented residents, they have rights protected under the U.S. constitution. No, you are illegal. For example as a foreign citizen, going around toting your flag screaming "podemos sí" as a rallying cry is not furthering the cause. The reality is that most Americans just say come over legally and put money into the system instead of being a burden on social services which in turn erodes support for the people who really those need those resources, but can't receive them. While migrants in the United States have held huge demonstrations in recent weeks, the hundreds of thousands of undocumented Central Americans in Mexico suffer mostly in silence. And though Mexico demands humane treatment for its citizens who migrate to the U.S., regardless of their legal status, Mexico provides few protections for migrants on its own soil. Rings more than a bit ironic, don't you think?

I'm even more incensed that some Latinos have crossed the line of audacity to link their pursuit of absolution with the struggles of the civil right movement. ¿Opinión qué? Since when was over 400 years of slavery and approximately 60 more of legalized oppression via Jim Crow on a level playing field with being an uninvited guest in someone else's home and proceeding to strain the resources from everyone else?

Conveniently lost in the mix amidst all this hoopla is precisely the opening Dumbya & Co. need to keep the masses so preoccupied with the illegals that he can give a few more attempts at pushing privatization right past our noses. There's a far bigger agenda that is hiding under the disguise of these immigrants and their rallies and it's beginning to feel like spin mode all over again. You see what happened after 9/11 and history's a bitch that loves to stay on repeat.

Labels: immigration, politics