El Dia Del Padre

Adriene Cruz no habla Ingles.

And, not unlike myself, doesn't understand most of we Americans mutters. Perhaps if he did, he might have pled his case to the Right Wing of the White House. But the love began regardless when a young girl asked him for some ice cream, and he showed her the inside of his truck -- Guadalajara style.

Now some would wonder what went wrong that fateful day in Phoenix, when Adriene, a disgrunted ice cream truck driver, decided to share a little something with one of his customers. Perhaps he had envisioned something more when he scurried under the fence. After all, he certainly didn't risk dehydration, deportation, or death by Border Guard for this. Or maybe business was slow and an otherwise even-keeled wetback crawled too far into his own head. Whatever the reason, when our new amigo was approached by an innocent Arizona girl for his wares, he decided to gift her with his services as well.

Now I admit, my Spanish is less than proficient, but I don't believe the translation of "Bomb Pop" lands anywhere near "Your dirty brown cock in my pee pee".

When good White people like you and I think of "The American Dream", we have a conceived notion of a land where you speak your mind, shoot guns, own land, and kill everybody who doesn't look like you or worship your God. And tucked in there somewhere is the right to fall in love over a drink, fuck an incomplete stranger, get knocked up, get married, have children and, eventually, get divorced. So when Adriene Cruz stuffed his immigrant manhood into little Susie or Becky or whatever-her-name-is, he had babymaking on the brain. And a baby he made, which left him in a place familiar to many 20-year old Americans:

Shitty job;
No money;
Politically apathetic;
On probation;
An illegitimate child on the way, and;
A girlfriend who won't stop crying.

Problem is, Adriene Cruz' new girlfriend was prone to cry when thing go wrong, because she was 9 years old. Which got not only his MexiNuts emptied, but life in prison with no chance of parole for 35 years.

Now that you've been brought up to speed, I'll join you.

This life sentence is a punitive outrage against all ideas American. Bad enough we had to support another "naturalized" Latino indigent, now we get to do it in our overcrowded prisons. But tossing this man to the C cell block is a mercy killing, compared to the heartbreak he must have endured, knowing his unborn child fell under the knife. Yes, that's right, that little 9 year old is a murderer, with her mother who signed the papers and the doctor who played Suck and Scrape, because from the mouth of our own President elect, abortion is wrong. Our Bible thumpers preach it, our Congressmen sign it, and our mothers prove it every day. Never mind the emotional trauma, psychological stress, or horrific economic conditions into which these children will be born - only rape and incest victims experience these things. Abortion techniques should not be employed as post-coital birth control, because while your "American Dream" might have some illusion of control over your body, the instant you ride some cock bareback and conceive a child, that's no longer your body. That's our body, lady. Every time a sperm cuts tail into an ovum, that's another little American waiting to happen, and fuck all to women's rights, American rights, or human rights, that embroyo / fetus / neonate has rights, too.

Unless, of course, you're a Mexican halfbreed fetus, conceived from the combination of statutory rape, pedophilia, and really shitty barbed wire.

The true victim here isn't Adriene Cruz for misunderstanding how the game is played up here. He obviously couldn't read the rules posted on the fence. Nor is the victim that prepubescent child, who will forever recede into emotional shock at the sound of those bells in the summertime, eyes glazing over and hips moving in a strange gyrating fashion. No, the one who lost the most in this tragic little skit, is their love child. An innocent, hopeful baby who would look up at both parents affectionately, careless of the monstrous manner by which she was brought into existence, the hurried sweaty pumping of a greasy Chicano working out a house trade with the girl who didn't bring enough money to the window.

If Adriene survives until June, you might want to send him a sympathetic Father's Day card, letting him you know how you understand his plight, and even though he's a filthy Central American kidfucker, you feel his pain. Because this outrage isn't about Adriene Cruz fucking in the truck, or that anonymous child and her swollen belly running to her mother. This is about killing, plain and simple. Killing a fetus caught in the crossfire. Killing an American within which children can run unfettered to an ice cream truck. And killing an American dream, in which our future can rely on a solid right-wing conservative government to enforce their neo-Nazi moral maxims, and protect the unborn children by shutting down all the Planned Parenthood chopshops. Because if we allow the murder of every child conceived out of wedlock, resultant of the inexperienced fumblings of two people who know nothing of each other, this fine country will reach Zero Pop in quick fashion.

Only a President who liberates children with bombs, could protect an infant with a curette.