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So does this mean more or less mayos? Cuz a lot of latinx claim to be vanilla gorillas...

https://i.rdrama.net/images/16995568948590405.webp

https://www.pewresearch.org/latinx/2021/11/04/measuring-the-racial-identity-of-latinx

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White Latinx are super common here in San Antonio, half white half Latinx usually look pretty white. Also a bunch of rich Latinx in Mexico are white, when they move here they usually also have white kids. Latinx is kinda a meaningless definition, not that I mind, it helps my career as I boost companies' DEI scores.

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You mean Latinx. :marseysmughips:

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The future is brown pendejo :marseymariachi:

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I thought it was already a third by now

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After a Spring season spent in absolute despair while other young people lived healthy lives of sexual pleasure, summer arrived. Summer is even worse than Spring, especially in Santa Barbara. Flocks of hot, young girls go out in their shorts and bikini's, further tantalizing my s*x-starved body every time I look at them. Knowing that they gleefully show off their desirable forms, yet they would never give me a chance to be their boyfriend only increased my already boiling hatred towards all women.

Snapshots:

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"People are afraid to merge on freeways in Los Angeles. This is the first thing I hear when I come back to the city. Blair picks me up from LAX and mutters this under her breath as she drives up the onramp. She says, "People are afraid to merge on freeways in Los Angeles." Though that sentence shouldn't bother me, it stays in my mind for an uncomfortably long time. Nothing else seems to matter. Not the fact that I'm eighteen and it's December and the ride on the plane had been rough and the couple from Santa Barbara, who were sitting across from me in first class, had gotten pretty drunk. Not the mud that had splattered on the legs of my jeans, which felt kind of cold and loose, earlier that day at an airport in New Hampshire. Not the stain on the arm of the wrinkled, damp shirt I wear, a shirt which looked fresh and clean this morning. Not the tear on the neck of my gray argyle vest, which seems vaguely more eastern than before, especially next to Blair's clean tight jeans and her pale-blue shirt. All of this seems irrelevant next to that one sentence. It seems easier to hear that people are afraid to merge than "I'm pretty sure Muriel is anorexic" or the singer on the radio crying out about magnetic waves. Nothing else seems to matter to me but those ten words. Not the warm winds, which seem to propel the car down the empty asphalt freeway, or the faded smell of marijuana which still faintly permeates Blaire's car. All it comes down to is the fact that I'm a boy coming home for a month and meeting someone whom I haven't seen for four months and people are afraid to merge.”~Brett Easton Ellis, Less Than Zero

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