Honorary Mexy Contest


YES! This transcendent certificate can be YOURS! All you have to do is prove you are worthy of it. You cannot buy this certificate anywhere. This Mexcertificate will bring you untold happiness, chicks, property, and prosperity.

“Soop!” you’re probably yelling, “PLEASE by ALLah that is good and holy, please please give me a frickin’ certificate!!! I’ll do ANYthing!!!” Now, being irrationally angry at the drop of a hat won’t do it. Though that’s a nice try.

What you’ll need to do something stereotypically Mexican (this is up to you), and document this somehow. Now don’t go sending me an arrest warrant for stealing hubcaps from ten years ago. Your submission must be of an event occurring after I first posted this, on May 3rd, 2010. The winner will be revealed on CINCO de MAYO!!! Or whenever. I’m not sure, I’m kinda lazy.

(proof of citizenship may be required, unlike the presidency of the United States of America)

Good luck, gueritos.

E-mail Mex HERE ==> SooperMexican@yahoo.com


Mexertificate will be in a resolution and size worthy of framing.


This one is from DAVEinAZ. Famous tribble. Not as famous as myself, you understand, but somewhat famous..


Dave didn’t quite get that he has to be IN the picture.. apparently this is his puppet from Mejico that he chills with. I asked to see his papers, and he denied the request.. so how do I know he’s really Mexican?!?!

(this submission was later approved, see below)



Another Great Entry:

“I make about $4,500 a year. I applied for a job at $35k per year with some Gringo, and I got it!

They sent me $2000 for moving expenses, so I moved my family half a mile away, and didn’t show up for work.

I sure screwed that crazy guero!”

Daniel de las Colinas


SM – while stealing money from gringos is very Mexy, getting a job above el minimo most certainly is not!!! Still, good try… I may consider it, if Daniel gets negative action points!!

From @FreedomUS

Here’s my entry! I ate tacos today at our work Cinco de Mayo potluck. I told someone that yes, it was Mexican Independence day even though it isn’t, but did tell another gringa when asked that Cinco de Mayo did mean 5th of May. Ok, it is lame, but it is all I’ve got….


Very Good! Being deceptive for no reason is certainly a stereotypical trait of the Mexican!! Also, interpreting phrases from Spanish into English is almost worthy of the nobility of the Mexcertificate!!! The faux self-flagellating sincerity is a nice touch as well! =)

From one of the first winners, DAVEinAZ!!!!







Great display worth of the honor of being a Mexican!

Notice also that this pic was taken at 1:30 – either Dave was drinking profusely at the middle of the night, or he was lazily napping in the middle of the day. Both admirable Mexy traits!


Congratulations, sir! Job well done!


<<1-1-11: UPDATE!!>>

A late winner, Gary here shows his Mexy pride! Wow, look at those bags of frijoles! Some gringo is gonna eat well tonight!

Gary proudly displays his Honorary Mexican while planning his bandito raids on his white male oppressors!! Good job, Gary! Enjoy that certificate!

<<5-27-11: UPDATE!!>>

Another submission came in, and this one was so hilarious, it won TWO awards!


Today my wife (who is far more gorgeous than I deserve) and I were out running some errands and found ourselves far from food getting along about 1:30 p.m.  Since I am diabetic, we decided that discretion was the better part of valor, even though things have been tight, and stopped at a Chinese buffet in Goldsboro, N.C.

Now, Asian food is one of my default choices.  When i don’t really want anything in particular or when I don’t know what I want, I go Asian, because it gives me a chance to remind whomever I am with that I once ate raw squid in Korea and lived to tell about it and gives me the opportunity to practice up on my chopstick use.  Today, would be a little different than any time that I have ever spent in an Asian restaurant, however.

Just a few minutes after my wife and I were seated, an elderly (but spry) Asian gentleman and his guest (who appeared to be his son or grandson) came in with that firm air of confidence that immediately made me suspicious that he might be the owner of the place (and his later conversation, in fact, confirmed this).  As soon as he walked in, he walked over to the cash register where the Mama-san/hostess/ajuma sat and spat out a series of orders in Korean.  So, the owner of the Chinese restaurant is Korean.  Wait.  This gets better.

The hostess does not understand him.  The waitress who is waiting on us is a squat little Asian lady, very pretty for a later-than-middle aged women, and with the round features of a Chinese woman.  Seeing what appears to be an impending conflagration, she hurriedly walks up to the elderly gentleman and speaks to him in Korean, then turns around and heads back into the kitchen and yells in English his order.  Meanwhile, the restaurant owner stands still in the presence of the hostess and continues to spew forth various questions in excited Korean.  She replies, in English, then Spanish, “I no understand/No comprende.”

This puzzles the owner, and he speaks to her in English asking, “You Messican?”  “Si, yes!”  She replies.  “Messican.”  Shaking his head and looking at the floor, the elderly gentleman looks at the floor and walks over and takes a table next to the one my wife and I are sitting at.  Before he can comfortably come to a rest, the Chinese waitress comes out of the kitchen and explains to the owner that the hostess at the cash register does not understand either Korean or Chinese, she is “Messican.”  She understands “Spanische (pronounce the schwa e on the end) and Engrish” (I am NOT making this up).  She then asks the owner, “Hot tea?”

Previously, he had specified “tea” in English, but had not specified hot or cold.  Now that his ire is up a bit, he refuses to be asked in English. She tries “Hot tea?” a couple more times and then descends (or ascends, depending on one’s perspective) into Korean with, “Hong-cha?”  He agrees that hot tea, hong-cha, is what he prefers, and she takes the drink order of his guest, in English, of course, “hot tea also, please.”

The Chinese waitress goes away into the kitchen.  The owner then engages in a ten- to fifteen-minute rant which I can understand only bits and pieces of, but which elicited a response from his guest not unlike what must have been the norm at a Richard Pryor performance in the 1970s.  I pick up enough with my extremely dry Korean skills to know that he is completely flummoxed with the idea that he can find only “Messicans” to work in his restaurant, and I clearly hear him say at one point: “They come to live in America, but they speak only Spanish!  Why can they not learn to speak English?”  Yes, he is going all xenophobic (sic) about Mexicans who can’t speak English while speaking KOREAN himself.

At this point, it is almost too much for me.  My wife, not understanding Korean, can’t figure out why I am trying to figure out whether I need Facebook or Twitter at the moment, and what it is I want to post.  Of course, I can’t tell her because the owner is sitting at the next table over.  I am certainly not going to make fun of him in his presence – in his restaurant – and get thrown out.

So the hostess at the cash register (whom, you will remember, if you are filling out your scorecard correctly, is Mexican) brings two hot teas to the Korean men.  The elderly gentleman, in English, says to her, “How long have you worked for me?”

“Almost a year, sir.”

“Ah.  Very good.  I thought you were Korean.  I speak to you in Korean because you yellow, like me.”

“I understand, sir.  Thank you.”  And she walks away and takes her place at the cash register.

As soon as he sees her sit behind the register, the owner (for your scorecard again, Korean) turns to his guest and begins grousing (in Korean) about why he can only find “Messicans” to work in his business, and how hard would it be for them to learn English since they are here?  Of course, the hostess does, in fact speak fluent English, so I presume he may be talking about some of the cooking and cleaning staff.  But he is mucho (excuse the Spanish lingo) peeved.

Eventually, the Chinese waitress emerges with two large bowls of soup for the owner and his guest, and after laying them down on the table, is asked by the owner (in English, for your scorecards), “So she Spanische, eh?”

“Messican, sir.”

“Ah.  Where she live?”

Flummoxed temporarily, and apparently not sure if she is violating HIPAA or something, the Chinese waitress gasps, “Where she live, sir?

“Yes!” the owner demands, in a very no nonsense manner.  “WHERE SHE LIVE?”

Thrusting her thumb over her shoulder in an exaggerated move probably intended to communicate her discomfort with the question, the Chinese waitress states, “Over THERE.  In Dudley.”

“Dudley, eh?” the owner grunts.  “Is that where they are keeping THEM?”

“Uhhhhh, yes sir,” the Chinese waitress smiles, bows, and walks away.

The guest of the owner is at this point laughing so hard that his shoulders are rocking

Now, at some point I begin looking around me, and I see that the entire restaurant is filled with… “Messicans.”  My wife and I are white, the two Koreans are in the booth adjacent to ours, and there is the Chinese waitress.  EVERYONE ELSE in the Chinese restaurant (at least for a while) was… “Messicans.”  And I notice that every time the owner slips into Korean and says the word “Messicans,” every head in the restaurant turns to glare at him.

Meanwhile, I happen to take a glance at my wife’s plate.  She is eating fried okra (Dixie style) and… NACHOS???  WHAT??? YOU COME INTO A CHINESE RESTAURANT AND EAT… Oh, nevermind.

So, for your scorecards again: “Messican” customers at a Chinese restaurant in Goldsboro, North Carolina, where one of two white people is holding down the fort with fried okra and nachos while the Korean owner grouses about why his Mexican wait staff refuses to learn English… in Korean.  And yes, there is the one Chinese waitress, but I couldn’t fit her into that sentence.

Now, the definition of a “black hole” isL

“… a deformation in space/time due to an extreme concentration of mass, resulting in a cosmic formation from which even light cannot escape.”

Well, there was plenty of light, but lemme tell you that the thing that was DENSE in that restaurant today was diversity.  There was so much diversity that no reason or logic could escape.  While I am trusting that the dear reader is keeping up with the story and is keeping his scorecard clean, I can assure you that my head was spinning trying to fill out my own scorecard while all this was happening.

The Chinese waitress had been checking our table with increasing frequency, I believe to ensure that I was not choking on the food.  No, it was not the FOOD I was choking on.  Finally, she comes to our table one last time with our fortune cookies.  I break mine open and it says

“Comprete un nuevo equipo.”

Or, in English – “Buy a new outfit.”


I spent the rest of the evening looking for Rod Serling or expecting Ashton Kutcher to emerge from the shadows to explain that I had been “Punk’d.”  Alas, it never happened.

I am not sure I will ever go back.  Beyond here, there be dragons. I think I found some sort of a doorway to Multicultural Utopia (or Diversity Hades), and I found it an exceedingly strange and fearful place.

I have to say, though, the salsa was quite good.  Better than in most Messican restaurants.

-Jay in NC


Fantastic. I read this today and I was tearing up with laughter! Thanks Jay!!


This is the only twitter submission that has won – it is quite a feat to convince the Mexy Committee within 140 characters, but @FormerDeminTX did it:


Here’s a recent one from Tylero Borso, my newfound cousin.

Congrats homie!!

Ok Gringos, while many Honorary Mex Certificates have been given out, the contest is ALWAYS open! Remember to try to document your random acts of Mexicanicity as well as you can, and send them in! Or, you can just BRIBE the Honorary Mexican Certification Committee!