You Love Tacos, You Just Don’t Love the Hands That Made Them

When your palate is woke but your politics are broke.

So it’s Cinco de Mayo, and you’ve got guac under your nails and tequila on your breath — congratulations, you’re officially participating in America’s most confusing themed party.

Somewhere between the third mariachi remix of “Despacito” and your friend group arguing whether sombreros are offensive or just “festive,” you forgot to ask the most important fucking question:

Why the fuck are we celebrating a battle we don’t even remember, from a culture we barely tolerate?

Let’s rewind.

isn’t Mexico’s Independence Day. That’s a whole different holiday. This one’s about the time Mexico bitch-slapped the French in 1862 during the . Outnumbered. Outgunned. Outfancied.

But Mexico pulled it off — sent Napoleon III’s troops packing. Less a military masterstroke, more a middle finger to imperialism. Punk as fuck.

But here’s where it gets weird, while Puebla marked it with quiet pride, America turned it into fucking Margaritapalooza.

Why? Two reasons - marketing and guilt.