I’m not a self-hater, but there are too many damned Mexicans in California


Interesting California graphical map forecast in the NY Times today.



Click to enlarge


The graphic illustrates California’s impending “Hispanicification” in ten-year intervals, beginning in 1980, and continuing though 2020, when a forecast demographic trend predicts Hispanics will be the ethnic majority in the state. The year 2020, when we can once again establish an Aztlan government or whatever foolishness today’s young toy-Mexican revolutionaries get riled up about on the campuses of junior colleges.


I’ll tell you what…it feels an awful lot like 2020 already in most of LA County. Often, I will walk out of the house and experience this reaction.



We are taking over this state.


Wait, forget that. We have taken it over. We run California. All our corrupt leaders and log-jammed promises of ethnic excellence just settle like dark brown silt over the Golden State’s quivering welcome. We are everywhere, in your face and spoiling your idyllic paradise.


Frankly, I don’t like it. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, LA County’s Mexishare (or Mexiratio) is less than 50%, but numerically we are oozing out the palm trees and ice cream trucks around here. I feel like such a tired commodity. I’m no snowflake in SoCal, man. I’m a dime ‘o’ dozen in Los Angeles.


I want to be different, I want to be unique. I want to move to Humboldt County! In the late 70s, my parents drove us to Washington State and we stopped in Eureka to awe over the gray and rocky Northern California coast, and an oldster in a pick-up looked us over and asked if we were from “down South.” Duh. Perhaps his inference was way, way down South. How could he tell? I felt unique. I don’t like to be around too many of my type. Not because I don’t like them, but because they remind me too much of myself.


Around here, I walk down the street. Mexicans.


Ride the bus. Mexicans.
Get something from McDonald’s. Mexicans.
Go shopping. Mexicans.
Wash my car. Guess!


Mexicans come in all flavors, all colors, but in East LA, it’s a given that everyone you encounter is Mexican, and can in fact be spoken to in Spanish regardless of how they look. I get opened to in Spanish a lot but I look Mexican, so it’s not that shocking, but I’ve known Asians who get spoken to in Spanish around here. It’s comical and a revealing insight into the racial spectrum of the Mexican people.


Still, the standard issue East LA Mexican is usually dark, short, mustachioed, and has a slight paunch. A baseball cap and white boots are optional but highly encouraged.


I feel way too normal and indistinguishable here.


When I attended Cal Poly, Pomona, in the early 80s, I felt like I was one of 3.5 Mexicans on the campus. I was young and overwhelmed, but I would eat that rarefied presence up now. Even in my daily, non-East LA life, I’m around non-Mexicans very often, and it’s kinda cool but can also be just as irritating because White people wear thin too. White people, especially the “Industry” folks, are just as monolithic and aggravating as the East LA Mexican hordes.


And don’t get me started on the Hollywood Jews.