Cholo, Churro, Charo.

Imagine a movie set in Echo Park where a young girl protests her pregnancy as a sign of her surrendering her virginity. Imagine a movie set in Echo Park where a girl cast out from her reverend father, father's home is made to seek refuge with her gay uncle cholo's home (o)'s? PS cholo is latino for gangster. Imagine the trichotomy of a movie set in Echo Park. Quinceanera is a great movie to see. Please, see it.

Churros are doughnuts with phallic tendencies. Is it a mistake that they look like cactus branches or am I over thinking? I have a tendency to do both. I like them with cinnamon and granulated sugar, like fried dough at a San Gennarro streetfest, the warm dessert with a cake-like center that's best served at a roadstop taqueria, wrapped in wax paper. Get there, and get there now.

Charo is a brilliant guitarrist. She is an actress. She is a celebrity. She, I'll say it here, is an icon. Like Pia Zadora was to the seventies, Hrosvita was to the middle ages, Charo is important to understanding current society and it's trends. She was paramount in the eighties to know how Love Boat should be received, light and fanciful with a great moral delivered by closure. And presently as a modicum of humor in a Geico advertisment, could we really understand what the beleagured client wanted out of their nasty episode without a bunch of rapid spanish and some bodythrusts in spandex and glitter? I say not. I also say what Charo taught me in the eighties:

"A front..."
"And a back..."
"And a belly, and a belly, and a belly, and a belly."

"And a front..."
"And a back..."
"And a belly, and a belly, and a belly, and a belly."

....I do this while lifting up the waist of my t-shirt, exposing my midrift, and my feet dance the semblence of a samba. Am I anymore continental? Am I anymore responsible? Am I anymore hot? I think not.

Indulge in all of the above, I think that you may enjoy life a degree more. I do.


Sweet. Dolce. Dulce.