“Eating a lot, if not well, is the best revenge.”
Historians and anthropologists–and just plain folks with at least half a brain–were left gobsmacked after Lizzo, recently less-fat-but-still-obese, had spoken the stupid part out loud, the part that should have remained unspoken. Here’s what the formerly 308-pound entertainer, and reigning asshat of the moment, declared:
“The irony of an ice agent forcing a Mexican person off of their ancestral land when that agent’s ancestors are European immigrants is just …”
We don’t know about all y’all, but this eighty-two-year-old, straight, white, Morgan Wallen-loving dude has a hard time taking seriously anyone who uses off of instead of off, and who wouldn’t know irony if it bit her on her still fat ass.
To begin, Spaniards, not Mexicans, settled California; and if you wanted to get all precise and technical–two things no one’s ever accused Lizzo of being–indigenous peoples had gotten there way before the Spanish settlers. Indeed, ever since our first ancestors flung themselves out of the primordial soup, somebody’s been stealing land from somebody else.
Nevertheless, Ms. Lizzo apparently believes that ICE agents, those solemn enforcers of immigration law, are busy staging reenactments of the Spanish Conquest. Or have immigration agents simply combined an interest in urban renewal with a disregard for zoning laws?
As of now, there are no reports of ICE officials operating bulldozers in the dead of night, accompanied by the Ghost of Hernán Cortés. In fact, ICE has remained fairly predictable in its activities, showing little enthusiasm for reenacting colonial conquests in consideration of the usual red tape.
This, of course, is disappointing. If ICE were in the business of reclaiming lost territories, one might hope for a more ambitious approach—perhaps restoring Atlantis, or at minimum, brokering a deal with the Aztec gods to bring back Tenochtitlán.
Alas, the mundane truth persists: immigration enforcement remains focused on paperwork, detention centers, and bureaucracy, leaving Lizzo’s exposé feeling less like a shocking revelation and more like an exercise in creative storytelling by an asshat of the moment who isn’t too creative.
