War

Someday, when I run for president of the United States, I'm going to run into an insurmountable obstacle that effectively torpedoes my campaign. It won't be the fact that you kind of need to be born here to be president. Arnold is going to take care of that. And it won't be my sordid past and run-ins with the law. As we have seen, you can say the word Jesus and blah blah blah and everyone will call you a mensch for overcoming adversity and your terrible past will become an asset.

No, the problem will come when Mexico plays the United States in soccer and some asshole reporter asks me who I'm rooting for.

The Americans are going to hate the answer. But they won't hate it anywhere near as much as I hate the American soccer team.

We're not just talking a little hate here. We're talking full-blown, irrational, quasi-religious hate. We're talking full scale loathing on a level most people would find frightening.

I don't know why. It has nothing to do with Texas, NAFTA, or the implicit "improvement" that New Mexico connotes.

You all know I love America, almost to the point of infatuation. But when America puts on soccer shoes and tries to kick a ball into a net, I lose all semblance of reason and turn into a hooligan. I rant, rage and exert physical violence upon anything within reach. If I ever see Landon Donovan (or, as he is affectionally known in Mejico, "that little bitch") walking down the street, I would assault him. I am not making this up. I'm not proud of this. It is not a pretty sight.

This is only exacerbated by the fact that, lately, we (Mexico) always effing lose. Always. And it kills me. It's like losing a chugging contest to a girl, or a beer pong game to an engineer. Imagine what Hillary would have felt if Palin had become the first woman president.

Tonight, Mexico faces the United States. I have locked the door and hidden my keys in such a way that I will only be able to retrieve them once the RAGE BLACKOUT subsides. I really hope Mexico wins. I really don't need that third strike.

By tomorrow morning, I'll have returned to my inordinate love for America. Until then, guerra!