A. When I made this blog, it was my way of kicking open a door that I had previously not even acknowledged was in my wall. Or at least only in little bits, and never quite proudly. And so I came out loud and proud and strong and extremely confrontational. The opposite of "hiding because you feel what you are made of is slimy." And yet, I tried to have a sense of humor about the whole thing. By now, no matter how I come across, trust me, I'm laughing. On some level. Even at myself. Especially at myself.

There is actually more than one joke in that tagline.

a) Once I had a very close friend. We spent a number of years together. Road trips, police encounters, good times, bad times. Jobs, dreams, half-assed recording sessions. Good friend. And we joked and laughed most of the time we were together. No matter what was going on. And we were through a lot together. But our sense of humor was so in line that it was easy to do. When you have a friend like this, it is a great thing. And one of our jokes was a comparison to "Ten Motherfuckers." Such as in "Man, I am cold. Damn. It is colder than ten motherfuckers up in here!" (Accent must be on the "Ten"). Or maybe we'd say "he was ugly as TEN motherfuckers!" You know. And that joke grew out of a hunger joke. "I am hungry as TEN motherfuckers." You can see it makes sense, then. You are so hungry you could eat for ten people. But then you take the joke into new areas and it really becomes funny. (Especially when you have food in your belly again!) The tagline "smarter than TEN ARYANS" was a reference to that original joke. Even though me and he stopped talking to each other in 1994. Nobody was here to know about that private joke. But I did. And knowing that made me smile when guys wanted to stop by and get in a fight on my blog because of my self-mocking advertisement for my brain. Didnt they see that they were fools to argue such a thing? No. But I would smile, with my ghostly memory-friend smiling, too. (Somehow having a silent partner in on it made the joke unassailable.)

b) It's set up as a comic book hero line. Like Superman. "Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound!" Didnt you grow up hearing that? That made that line funny as hell to me. "The Unapologetic Mexican! Prettier than Lou Dobbs and Smarter than TEN MOTHERFUCKERS!" Or ARYANS, rather; to bring the "in your face about this idea of a substandard race" thing to bear. I mean come ON. If you say that in the news guy voice from the cartoon? Hilarious!

c) Stupid. Lazy. Mexican. Sick of it. Taste the flip.

d) ARYAN seemed to me, at the time, a completely safe foil to use in that tagline. It's not a word that lives in the modern day. Which is what I wanted. I wasn't here to pit myself against "white" people. I was (partially) motivated in making this blog to strike back and shout back at the murmur of loathing I had lapping at my fingers, toes, ears most of my life. For me, when I speak of racism (at least as I experienced it against Mexicans) it's often drawn from my understanding of a feeling that grew in me that I was not even so much aware of, a feeling made of nothing more than a procession of lines, jokes, shots, chapters, movies, ads that added up, subtly or overtly, to paint a picture of what a "Mexican" was to be worth in this land in which I've grown. It was that, it was the reactions to my name, it was a few things that added up to make me feel less-than behind this "race" thing. And it was that intangible "thing" that I wanted to strike out against. That "thing" takes many shapes. But on the far and extreme end of the continuum, Hitler and his vile genocidal ideals epitomized the depths (heights?) of that "thing." And what was his gauge of perfection? The "Pure Aryan" race. So I included Aryans as my way of spitting in the face of that ideal and the sickness behind it.

e) A very private joke. My legally adopted last name, given me by the state of Maryland when I was 8, and finally discarded legally and otherwise in 2005 was an Irish one that could very well fit inside of the word "Aryan." So I was thumbing my nose at my past, utterly-assimilated, white-washed self.

So now you know the Why.

But why change the tagline now?

For one thing, I'm just not quite in the same place I was over a year ago with this. There will be a certain point when I move to a new place, I'm sure. When I no longer feel represented well by this entire presentation. But before then, I have to adjust. Because I am not the same person I was when I began this blog, in May of 2006. The question of how much to change and when to just leave it will have to be answered with each decision.

Even so, I never thought anyone—even if it has only been a handful of people over the course of a year and a half—would identify with "Aryan." Just never thought it would happen. Yet, I have learned by now that some white people feel enough identification with that term that they argue me, a stranger, over ...oh, this or that. Really it doesn't matter, I think. They may just want to walk away having met well this random "Unapologetic Mexican's" intellectual glove to the face. So they do this thing, and it becomes like Bruce Lee walking through town to grab something from the store (if Bruce Lee were a Xicano blogger and sat on his ass a good part of the day) and having ten people challenge him on the way there and fifteen on the way home. It's tiring. I don't want to put people on the defense like that. I forget it's up there. And sometimes I am reminded by reaction.

When I made the line...it was more a way of saying "MEXICANS RULE!" But over time, sadly, I feel too many people read it as "You are white. You are inferior." And I don't want that misinterpretation. On one hand I could say "Oh, too bad, you feel stung as a "white" in the face of some Xicano is being proud of what he is? When he had to hear the opposite all his life? Too bad!" And I think I used to. I used to say something like that. I guess that is the part where I've changed a little. I refuse to feel bad for what I am. And I guess, to be honest, I do laugh to myself if so-called "whites" get threatened by Brown Pride in general. Get a grip.

But I don't want to push a bad feeling on anyone else first.

Nor do I want every new person who comes here in general—even if they don't take the line personally—to think they have to appear "smart" or that this is what I am focused on, or that they have to match wits with me, or anything. This is not the aura I want, not the impression I want to give them. Let those in doubt frame the bravado-soaked subheader as a rallying cry against Gilchrist and Simcox and their ilk. I'm cool with that.

HOWEVER. This doesn't mean that I'm not damn proud of being of Mexican descent. Nor that I want to start tiptoeing around. If I'm going to tiptoe, I may as well hang up my habanero holster. So I'm avoiding the confusion, and realigning my target. I mean...by now it's no surprise. You've already looked up and seen the new banner. So you know. We're leaving ideas of racial purity or comparison, even in ridicule, by the wayside (two miles east of the Road is the Way, so...it'll be over thereabouts, next to a few hidden jugs of sparkling virtual agua) and putting our dear racist and non-fictional Minutemensos on center stage.

Thus, the new banner: