You And Your Team

A lot of my family is from Mexico. A lot of my family is also from France and Spain. The French folks came to the US, and after a couple of winters and many meals in Indiana, moved to Mexico, and from there to Oxnard, California where my great grandfather was born. My grandmother was born in Redondo Beach. That's my father's side. On my mother's side, my oldest white ancestors were in the New World in the 16th c. And the brown in me was here even before that, but I know that doesn't count.

Despite geography, history, birth, and my own general skepticism towards issues of identity, the way YOU PEOPLE do things, I'm Mexican. Well, a kind of Mexican- the kind that has no place in Mexico.

So sometimes I do embrace the idea of Mexico, which is about as Mexican as what any of the other idealized ethnicities people in the US pretend to be. But there are times when I will act the part of a Mexican though I don't always know the role.

Soccer is one of those "times." I mean I often support the Mexican National Team and vaguely follow some Mexican players. So that means I'm glad for Mexican players that make it to better teams and I like it when they do well, or the Mexican team as a whole does well. Unless, of course, they're playing the US.

Then I hate them with a burning hate I generally save for MySpace, Christmas Shoes, and hell. Funny how that works, isn't it? I may hope that Nery will have a chance to score a lot in the EPL; come February though, I hope he breaks both of his legs or chokes himself with his jersey.

Metaphorically of course.

It seems difficult for things to not work that way. I mean as fluid as identity might be, we easily fall into more rigid clannish categories when push comes to shove, or when push comes to putsch. Maybe that is so because identity is so fluid rather than in spite of it.

This past summer I proposed a pantomime fight with a Columbus Crew fan sometime after I yelled "Chivas Suck!" at some schlub on the sidewalk. I like to think that was a bit of confession and camp on my part. I mean, I caught myself really acting like an idiot, so I decided to pretend to be an over the top idiot to show how idiotic it is to be an idiot.

You may know, if you have half a brain, the half necessary for reading and comprehension, that I'm not a big fan of MY PRESIDENT. Yet reading the news about his trip to Israel and Palestine puts me into that strange position of wanting to defend him. Sure he's a vampire war criminal, but that's for me to say. I'll burn his effigy, you find your own leader to burn. After all, he's MY PRESIDENT.
Well... it's more than that. As much as he and I are not from or on the same plane[t], I feel a subtle pinch when I see these pictures, as if Bush is some new signing I have to support.

True story- I was sitting in a United section of a "pub" for the Arsenal-Man U match earlier this season and I called Rooney a fat load. A woman behind me said something to the effect that if he were on my team I would love him. I said that might be true, but he would still be a hefty blob of pale flesh under whatever colors he wore.

I think many of the claims much of the world can make against the US right now are legitimate... depending on how they're made... But for a brief moment this morning, I wanted to buy a Chinese-made yellow vinyl magnet and PRAY FOR THE TROOPS. I guess that's supposed to happen. The reptile in me wants to narrow who THEY are and what I can do. I guess this is a confession of sorts.

Nationally, many of us still seem to suffer from a lack of imagination when it comes to dealing with people we insist are no more than enemies. Or rather, any energy we put into imagining goes to creating unreal scenarios of how we will deal with our caricatures. Seriously, follow Bin Laden to the gates of hell and shoot him with a Smith and Wesson; get Jack Bauer to hunt and kill our enemies?

I don't write this because it's necessarily news to me. I'm not surprised that I can be parochial. But as we've made it a habit lately, and if others are as susceptible as any, what will we make of the most recent events in the Gulf of Tonkin... I mean the Strait of Hormuz?

We're moving that ball right along while others do the same. We're all so busy creating caricatures to hate, valorizing some sense of us and demonizing them to make it easier and more palatable to kill each other. And there seems to be a sort of velocity building. It's more work at first; then it gets easier. Then it's moving along so freely it's hard to imagine it's not a natural thing after all.

Oh well, Jesus will come back soon and then everything will be great.

Wow That Really Does Work- I Feel So Off the Hook
Gimme the Car- Violent Femmes
Revolution Rock- The Clash
Welcome- The Who
America The Beautiful- Neil Young
Myxomatosis- Radiohead
Once- Pearl Jam
Give the People What they Want- Jimmy Cliff
Helter Skelter- The Beatles
Stomp Box- They Might Be Giants
Just Like a Woman- Bob Dylan
That Old Black Magic-Louis Prima
DMSO- Dead Kennedys
I Die- THe Magnetic Fields
Innervision- System of a Down