How I Learned To Love the B-Word

It’s not every day you’re quoted in The Washington Post. It’s probably one I won’t forward to my mother, as she taught me not to use bad words. The lesson didn’t stick.

In this age of censorship increasing at an alarming and arbitrary rate, I’m proud to have worked for a man who says what he wants and doesn’t give a fuck what people are saying about him. Bottom line: he cracks my shit up.

Oh, and two weeks ago, when I walked out on my porch, my next-door neighbor’s fourteen-year old son got down on his knees and did a “we’re not worthy” bow to me. He had just found out I used to write for Mind of Mencia. I’m familiar with handling teen girl fans, because I write gushy fanmail too, but boys telling me they’ve been bragging to their friends that they live next to “a real writer”? Doesn’t usually happen. I know I’m probably not the one who wrote the poop joke that made this kid laugh for close to an hour, but it was pretty cool to see this show go from something nobody had heard of, to my neighbor’s kid’s “favorite show in the whole word.” That, and it’s fun to say “dee dee dee.”

The article is a discussion of the word “Beaner” and all that it implies. It is a word most of my friends hadn’t heard before. Let me rephrase. Most of my New York/San Francisco friends had to ask me what that meant. Those from Texas? Didn’t have to ask any questions. I’m still trying to remind the Blaus that it’s not a word white people get to use ironically… at the Coffee Bean. But then, if Carlos taught me anything, it’s that if you’re being honest, and you’re being real, then don’t be afraid to say it. As long as you own it. And it had better be fucking funny, dude.

[join the forum discussion on the word “beaner” here]