The Good Guys And The Bad Guys, They Never Work Past Noon Around Here

I got this image from a friend:



There are several reasons I like the shot, not the least of which is the equating of Mexican food with a gift from the Almighty, but the main one is this:

Breakfast tacos.

In the distant lands west of Texas, where people live openly in sin by cohabitating outside of marriage or voting Democrat, they commit a crime that even I find unforgivable: they use the term "breakfast burrito" to refer to any early-morning food involving a combination of eggs, bacon, potatos or cheese wrapped in a tortilla. This, I tell them, is a breakfast taco. At this point they usually cock their heads and look at me as if I'd told them I'd discovered the secret to time travel. "You mean, with a crunchy shell?" they ask. "No," I patiently respond. "It's a tortilla with bacon and eggs or whatever inside." "Oh," they say, smiling, "you mean a breakfast burrito."

And I try to explain to them that it's called a breakfast taco, as any one of the visitors to the Cowboy Breakfast could tell you. Or I want to take them for a breakfast taco at Abundio's, a small place where most of the employees don't speak English. I have fond memories of cutting class senior year of high school and eating here.

But I know it's a losing battle, and it's not worth getting that worked up about. Things there and things here are different, and that's the way it goes. On the whole, I still say I came out a little ahead, even if no one here knows what I mean when I say things like "I ate the Macho at Chris Madrid's." Oh well.