Why Do Mexicans Love Morrison?

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More About

• Morrissey (Singer)
• Tony Romo
• New York Giants
• Lupillo Rivera
• Super Bowl

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Dear Mexican,

At a weekly Doors tribute band gig, I've noticed the majority of the crowd is Mexican. I swear, sometimes it seems like the crowd missed the exit to the Lupillo Rivera show or a Maná concert. Never realized Jim Morrison was the equal of Morrissey and Charles Bronson among other Mexican güero icons.

Dear Gabacho,

Let your letter be the last time any gabacho expresses amazement that Mexicans can enjoy music that doesn't feature a tuba, accordion, or funny hats. Yes, America: Many Mexicans love the Doors, and other rock groups that enjoy substantial Mexican followings include Morrissey, the Cure, Depeche Mode, Elvis, Led Zeppelin, Metallica, Beck, the Beatles...see where this list is going? Nowhere, man. Good music, like a good Mexican, doesn't recognize borders. A more inexplicable musical mystery is why gabachos usually recoil at the sound of Mexican tunes—and I'm not even talking about the bandas sinaloenses, conjuntos norteños, and mariachis that'll remind them too much of Lawrence Welk. Seriously, gabachos: Where is the love? We sell out arenas in Mexico for many American acts—why can't ustedes bother to iTune some Café Tacuba or El Gran Silencio? The Mexican theorizes laziness is behind this soft bigotry, but I'm more than open to other theories. By the way, Güero: if you want a more serious analysis of why Mexicans love Morrissey, you'll have to buy my book. Don't have it yet, everyone else? Buy it already, cabrones! Its Amazon.com ranking is sinking faster than the prospect of amnesty this year!

After watching the Dallas Cowboys lose to the New York Giants, is wetback quarterback Tony Romo's off-week, south-of-the-border fiesta to blame for him being downed more times than a bottle of tequila? Or are gabachos just mad he's dating an all-American Daisy Duke gabacha like Jessica Simpson? Michael Irvin's cocaine stripper parties never stopped "America's Team" from Super Bowl stardom.

Dear Wab,

Excuse me as I write this to Tony:

Dear Antonio Ramiro Romo,

Pinche puto pendejo baboso. You perpetuated some of the worst Mexican male stereotypes with your Cabo San Lucas sojourn—siesta taker, gabacha fetishist, capable of vacationing only in Mexico—yet you could've shut up the haters with one simple fourth-quarter comeback against the Giants. Instead, interception. Thanks for pulling the biggest Mexican choking act since Over Her Dead Body.

garellano@seattleweekly.com