Latinos overwhelming dislike the label Latinx: update: Latino Democrats want to ban fake word

Flour tortillas? homegirl tripping, all about the MAIZ...both parties put in work when trying to get our vote, then completely forget about us when they get in power

 

Do you think Jalen identifies as Filipinx?

 

not the Bee. Hard to believe

 

This Woke World Didn’t Deserve The Choco Taco
Our world didn’t deserve the culturally appropriated novelty ice cream.

https://thefederalist.com/2022/07/27/a-eulogy-for-the-choco-taco/

Hans Fiene writes:

The Choco Taco is muerto. May it rest in peace. We didn’t deserve it.

Once upon a time, we were a nation of visionaries and dreamers, a people who blasted beyond boundaries and invited those of every tribe and tongue to enter the American rocketship and use their talents to conquer the universe with us. Together, we carved interstates through mountains, built skyscrapers, and slipped the surly bonds of earth. There was no place we couldn’t go, no limit we couldn’t surpass, and most of all, nothing we couldn’t turn into dessert.

We turned cartoon characters and professional wrestlers into frozen sweets. We turned weapons of mass destruction into popsicles. But most impressively, we turned tacos into ice cream.

The Choco Taco was the example par excellence of Melting Pot America’s commercialized culinary hubris. In 1983, Good Humor debuted its recently departed delicacy. And while Mexican cuisine may loom large in American food culture today, it’s important to remember this was not the case at the time.

In 1983, Taco Bell had a mere 1,600 locations nationwide, compared to over 7,600 today. Most Americans had never heard of “Taco Tuesday,” never seen an avocado, and couldn’t tell their barbacoa from their carnitas. And yet, despite our limited familiarity with the referent, Good Humor had the audacity to fill their ice cream trucks with a parody confection.

“You know that food you barely remember from the one time your grandmother took you to a Chi-Chis in Trenton,” Good Humor said to us. “Here’s a joke ice cream version of that. We bet you’ll eat it.”

And eat it, we did. For countless ’80s babies, for those of us raised on boiled meatloaf,wet-paper-flavored apples, and the other haute cuisine of the day, we embraced the Choco Taco before we embraced actual tacos. Gripping the waffle shell in our summer-sweat-covered hands, we eagerly consumed a delicacy we didn’t fully comprehend. And when we did, an inclusive curiosity sparked within us.

To the white kids of Reagan’s America, the Choco Taco declared, “There’s a world of real tacos out there. Go discover it. Go embrace the people who gave it to you! Accept those whose culinary culture offered you something far more delicious than baloney and ketchup sandwiches! Befriend them!”

Likewise, for the non-white kids of America, the Choco Taco declared, “You belong. You matter. Don’t be offended that we yoinked your culture and turned it into diabetes snacks. That’s an initiation ritual here. That’s how Business America shows you that we (sort of) accept you (kind of).”

But then we won the Cold War, we became complacent, and we lost the desire to expand our horizons. By repeatedly giving the Weird Al treatment to exotic new delicacies, we could have conquered xenophobia and added glorious new flavors and textures to the American melting pot. We could have invented the Banana Split Baozi or the Lotta Chocolatty Chakalaka. Instead, we got sloppy and lazy.

We lost the desire to better ourselves, to discover how we might use technology to slather mid-tier ice cream upon previously unslatherable surfaces. We settled for artless tech, declaring, “Hey, you’ve heard of ice cream, but have you ever heard of smaller ice cream?” So we freeze-dried it and called it Dippin’ Dots. We cut it into chocolate-covered microcubes and called it Dibs. We made ice cream stale. We made it boring. And we called it progress.

Likewise, as Marxism wormed its way through our elite institutions and corrupted our collective mind, we paralyzed ourselves by demonizing culinary curiosity with our constant shrieks about “cultural appropriation.”

When people close down burrito food trucks because the owners are insufficiently Latinx, we have ceased to be a people capable of expanding the frontiers of Frozen Dairyland. When white Americans aren’t allowed to embrace and borrow the sweetest bits of other ethnicities, the reach of those ethnicities is hindered, and you get what we have now: a thousand artisanal creameries selling $25 kale and rose hip sundaes to bitter thirty-somethings, but not a single ice cream truck selling FroYo Falafels to curious 5-year-olds.

Rest in peace, Choco Taco. You taught us wonder and acceptance when you gave us nuts and chocolate instead of tomatoes and cheese, but we abandoned you. You should have lived a thousand years as the abuelo to a United Nations of modestly delicious novelty ice cream offshoots. Instead, you’ll be buried alone because we’ll be too busy canceling Otterpops for normalizing transphobia.
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the Choco Taco probably deserves its own thread

https://www.washingtonpost.com/food/2022/07/26/choco-taco-appreciation-nostalgia/

RIP, Choco Taco, a triumph of culinary kid logic
Perspective by Steve Kolowich
Assignment editor
July 26, 2022 at 3:54 p.m. EDT

It’s summer. You’re at the pool. You’ve been attempting handstands. You’ve been holding your breath competitively. You’ve been saying “polo!” and then dog-paddling (stealthily, furiously) away from the sound of your own voice. You’re hungry. You hear a tinny lullaby in the parking lot. The ice cream truck has arrived, and your stomach sends up a cable to your brain: CHOCO TACOS YESSSS.

Choco Taco, holy grail. With apologies to the Chipwich and the Creamsicle, only one other item in the ice cream truck inventory can compete for your wet fistful of cash: red-white-and-blue Popsicles. As summer snacks go, the pop has a lot going for it on a hot day. Frosty, fruity, looks like a firework. The Choco Taco, meanwhile, is a chewy, chocolaty mess of peanuts, chocolate, ice cream and waffle cone. Tasty but not quite as refreshing.

And yet.

And yet you’re running. NO RUNNING! You’re walking, briskly, over warm matted grass and scorching panels of exposed aggregate, in the direction of that low-fi siren song. Why the rush? Because you don’t want anyone in front of you to get the last Choco Taco. That is, if they’re not already gone.

While the kid version of you waits in line, let’s indulge in some painfully adult blah-blah about what made the Choco Taco so beloved. And let’s keep our voices down so the kid version of you doesn’t overhear the news that prompted this reflection: Choco Tacos are being discontinued, and for the most adult reason imaginable: “an unprecedented spike in demand across our portfolio,” according to Klondike’s parent company, forcing “very tough decisions to ensure availability of our full portfolio nationwide.”

The Choco Taco was the answer to a simple question: What if ice cream was tacos? That kind of question makes perfect sense to a kid, and it must have been validating to think that some enlightened grown-ups at the food factory (or whatever) saw fit to answer it.

What’s more, the answer made sense. The Choco Taco was a mash-up that didn’t read as a gimmick. Nor was its appeal superficial, like some of the other items pictured on the side of the ice cream truck. Popsicles made to resemble beloved cartoon characters? Look, let’s not get into it; I’m not here to besmirch any other summer snacks. Suffice it to say Choco Taco wasn’t pretending to be something it wasn’t. It looked like what it was: a choco(late) taco.

The inventor of the Choco Taco was reportedly a man in his 30s, and he explained his thinking in a 2016 interview with Eater: “When you eat a sugar cone, you generally eat the nuts, chocolate and ice cream on the top, and then when you get to the cone, you’re [only] eating ice cream and cone,” said Alan Drazen. “With the Choco Taco you’re getting the ice cream, cone, nuts and chocolate with just about every bite.” Also: “Mexican food was the fastest-growing segment of the food industry, and the taco was the most recognizable shape.”

All that makes sense, in an adult kind of way, but nothing essential gets lost when you translate to kid logic: “Tacos = awesome, ice cream = awesome, both = double awesome???!!” Or, if you’d like: CHOCO TACOS YESSSS.

There’s no need to make this more complicated now than it was then. Kid You knew better than to ask deep questions about something as self-evident as the Choco Taco. What if ice cream was tacos? Asked and answered. The only important question after that was: When you get to the front of the line, are there any left?

Sadly, we now have an answer to that, too.

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our long national nightmare is over

 

the week's biggest story makes the WSJ

 

If you don't vote for me you ain't latinx.... .

 

Breakfast tacos —> Trash

 

America's first LatinX president?

 

I need to start a YouTube channel.

 

We can team up.

Those should be some interesting perspectives.

 

Yeah but I have the tendency to abbreviate names and your handle here doesn't lend well to that so we'll have to use our real names.

 

Whatever do you mean?