Dear Mexican: I write to you with a doubt similar to the one that Incensed In Chicago felt a couple of weeks ago, when her friend couldn’t believe that Mexicans worked in professional, white-collar jobs. I live in Tijuana, and of the gabachos who put roots here, you can’t find a single professional. Just starving people and retirees. People who no longer have money to rent a house in San Diego. Those who aren’t recovering drug addicts are arrogant drunks who always miss a piece of cheese from the other side named Rush Limburger and boast because they can count up to 187 without using their fingers.

This is why I’m urged to ask you: Does Gringolandia lack professional people, or is it exporting solely its own undesirables? And how is it that none of them are even able to work in the fields? Please accept this hug from where (as we in Tijuana say) the motherland begins.

Xolotl de Tijuas

Dear Wab: Sure, gabachos who live in Mexico occupy white-collar jobs: They’re professional colonizers who do a terrible job of it. What else can you call groups of people who settle in a foreign land, stick to their own kind, proudly don’t bother to assimilate, stay in constant contact with their homelands, and never bother to integrate themselves into the fabric of their new lands? Sí, the Mexican government makes it muy difficult for Americans to migrate and live in la suave patria, but at least Mexicans in the United States gamed the system enough so they became indispensable to the Republic; Mexico can expel its gabachos and survive (see Pershing’s Punitive Campaign, the 1936 nationalization of Mexico’s oil, Mexicans booing Miss America in the 2007 Miss Universe Pageant).

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