I woke up, during my vacation, no less, at the ungodly hour of 7:00 a.m. after a restless night, got all prettied up (wore makeup, stilettos and everything, too) and had my mom drive me for an hour through the shabby and worrisome colonia La Merced to get to the House of Representatives, where I was supposed to work as an "Auxiliar parlamentaria, a fancy name for a simple gofer, busgirl, chalán, chacha, or whichever way you prefer to call it.
Just my luck, how did I ever think someone would be there by 9? I mean, it's not like they had to work to ensure they were fairly representing Tabasco's society, population and ecological reserves or anything remotely like that. Well, not by 9 a.m., anyways.
So mom and I went for some cofee while we waited for someone to show up and open the office, but of course, they didn't have decaf, so I had to content myself with inhaling my mom's capucchino's fragrance. God, I miss caffeine, and chocolate, and nuts, and coke, and basically everything my doctor stressed I couldn't have. Seriously, I nearly burst in tears when he mentioned chocolate, while someone, somewhere, cackled devilishly at my cruel misfortune.
ANYHOW, point is by ten I called the office (if you think I was going to walk to the B building and take the lift to the 4th floor to check, you are sadly mistaken) and found out that my dear Mr. E. Vidal would probably not show up until 2 p.m. Just lovely.
So, we headed out back to the car where a franelera was steadfastly watching our dear mistreated Platina. I love my car, even if technically it's now mom's.

Natually curious, I bought myself a copy, to see if it was indeed racist and politically incorrect.
Generally, I defend Memín's right to exist, but that's because I know that the comicbook played a fundamental role in Mexico's society and cultural history. Most people simply whine about Speedy González, the Taco Bell dog, the whole Minuteman human hunting and the migra shooting immigrants with pepper bullets thing, the building of a wall a la Berlin, the decades of uneven trade laws (think NAFTA), the american embassador's continuous negative comments about Mexico, etc.
Me? Well, I don't really think to defend or justify Mexico's position on this. I know, for a fact and because of past research on the topic, that Memín, just like Los supersabios, Pepín, Paquita, Paquito, La familia Burrón, etc. helped alphabetize the poor and mostly illiterate masses of mexicans who couldn't afford to go to school or buy newspapers. Many poor people learned the basics of reading and writing by reading Memín, and he is a part of our culture.
I had read about the comic for an essay on mexican comicbooks before, how it depicted diferent views of mexican society and it's social class system: the troublemaking and headstrong middle-class Carlos, son of a divorced working woman; The haughty, rich and snobbish Ricardo, son of a diplomat; Sweet, hardworking and gentle, but very poor Ernesto, who can't even afford shoes; Mischievous and poor, though better off than Ernesto, Memín, adoring single son of Eufrosina.
Yes, in the comicbook some people make comments of Memín's skin color, altough he gets more heat because of his short height. However, he seems to take any criticism with humor, laughing and retaliating with his mischievous wit. He seems to win people over easily with just some words and a smile. I have to say that it's the first time I read the comicbook and I'm very fond of Memín now. He's just that cute and endearing.
And he loves his Ma' linda so very much.

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