Last Tuesday’s night sky was clear atop Junction Hill, a relatively unremarkable little bump along magnetic ley lines in northwest Florida where less than a dozen professional astrologers met to welcome the end of a particularly unusual celestial period. Equipped with charts, skyview apps, and crystals of all varieties, the metaphysical researchers spent the night discussing the closing of what one referred to as the “Semi-Millennial Ironic Quadrilogy”. The group spent hours pouring over their predictions, reviewing archaic tomes, and excitedly sharing their insights with The Plantain’s field reporters.

We had a long conversation with Cassandra “Moonlight Sundance” Leibowitz, the group’s head organizer– or as she preferred to be recognized, the “Chief Orrery Scientist”– who enthusiastically explained the significance of this shift in star charts.

“See, it all comes back to Nostradamus,” claimed Leibowitz. “His predictions line perfectly. For instance, his quatraine claiming ‘The false trumpet concealing madness Will harken unto the seat of governance an ignorance of laws- uttered from a mouth of unnatural tanning, of the man who issues forth and withdraws edicts as the bird doth tweet’. We’ve spent years aligning this prophecy to motion of the skies, and can safely and scientifically declare that this prediction foretold a prolonged series of what our experts refer to as ‘Opposite Days’. Four years’ worth, according to our calculations.”

Whether from the enigmatic writings of an ancient eccentric, or from the meticulous research of a hilltop full of moon gazers, the strange energy of the last several years should probably not be disregarded. There may be lessons to learn from a period of time that seemed to bludgeon irony to a slow and simultaneously shocking and unsurprising death.

“I can’t speak to the physics or logic of ‘Opposite Day’,” claims actual scientist Tim Muldroon, an astrophysicist and NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory. “I can say, however, as a scientist I have to acknowledge and consider patterns when they become apparent. Just consider how every head appointed to each major government agency the last four years was a former critic and hellbent deconstructionist. Thanks to the Brookings Institution, you can track the scores of rollbacks and deregulations from the Trump Administration, and the whole thing looks as though the people leading the initiatives were specifically chosen to do the antithesis of their job requirements. The last few years have been what we call in the scientific community ‘totally fucked’.”

Coming out the other end of this strange period in astrological influences, what is in store for the next few years?

“Who can tell?” shrugs off ‘Moonlight Sundance’ Leibowitz.

In the spirit of Astrological integrity, The Plantain has divined the following horoscopes to help you clarify your experiences during the “Four Year-Long Opposite Day”, and hopefully give you some perspective moving forward:

Pices: You didn’t get the cleanest water ever, but you did get resource drilling options in protected species habitats.

Aires: You didn’t get to keep Ruth Bader Ginsburg, but you did have Mitch McConnell ram a varsity football team’s worth of judges into lifetime appointments.

Taurus: You didn’t get peaceful discourse to ease racial tensions, but you did get peaceful protests all summer that the media spun as radical violence and violent white supremacist riots in the Capitol that the media just spun.

Gemini: Funny enough, you got peace in the Middle East, but you’re going to lose it any second now.

Cancer: You didn’t get an alternative to the Affordable Care Act, but you did get a pandemic that killed hundreds of thousands of your fellow citizens.

Leo: You got the Tiger King.

Virgo: You didn’t get grabbed by the pussy, even though you were alone with your own hands for the last 300 days.

Libra: You finally got that UFO disclosure your reclusive uncle has been waiting for all these years, but no one cared and he replaced it with Q Anon anyway.

Scorpio: Murder Hornets.

Sagitarius: You didn’t get Infrastructure Week, but you did get paper towels thrown at Hurricane Maria victims as if that was helpful or something.

Capricorn: You didn’t get a border wall, but you did get scores of children locked inside fenced cages.

Aquarius: You didn’t get President Michelle Obama, but you wound up with Joe Biden, so whatever.

Your abuela swore he saw the future, and while Walter Mercado passed away last year, a Netflix documentary about his life – Mucho Mucho Amor – has been streamed on repeat in every Cuban house since its release in July.

But how can you succinctly explain Walter Mercado to your sorority sisters before they come over for your family’s ‘coronavirus can’t happen to them’ party?

Here are some quick answers you can give to Rebecca and Hillary so they don’t make a fool of themselves by confusing him with Blanche from the Golden Girls when they see your Abuela watching VHS tapes of his show she has had since the 80’s.

Who is Walter Mercado?
Walter Mercado was a TV astrologer who owned a lot of capes. He has been on TV since it was invented and could predict the future in a vague sort of way.

What is an Astrologer?
An astrologer is, generally speaking, a con-artist. Not to be confused with an “astronomer,” which is a scientist. Neil Degrasse Tyson is an astronomer, but that lady who your Tia Larissa gives $40 to once every month that told her to break up with her boyfriend is an astrologer.

So Walter Mercado was a con-artist?
You shut your mouth. Walter Mercado was a national treasure who has brought untold joy and entertainment to Cuban matriarchs for more than 50 years.

Oh okay, so your grandma likes him because he is Cuban?
No, Walter Mercado is a proud Puerto Rican. But every Spanish speaking country has basically claimed him as their own, so you’re sort of right. 

Are you sure he isn’t one of the Golden Girls?
Pretty sure, but I wouldn’t want to bet money on it.  

Con mucho, mucho amor.

What’s that mean? Why do you guys eat so much pork? Your cousin Pedro just kissed my cheek but like shouldn’t we be social distancing? Wait he just gave me his number, but like isn’t that his girlfriend in the corner? He’s asking me if I want to go outside and see the rims he just put on his Acura. What do I do?

Just go with it, Hillary. But if you do want to learn more about Walter Mercado, there’s a documentary debuting on Netflix July 8, 2020, that was made by a group of documentarians from Miami.




The Arnez family of Pinecrest wants you to know they are struggling just like the rest of the world. Since the pandemic, the family of four was forced to upgrade to a larger house because their Coral Gables home started to feel “a little too crowded.” Things only got worse when the sale of the Coral Gables home only came in at 10% above their asking price. But it wasn’t until all of their tenants in their Redlands investment property lost their jobs and they found out local restrictions made it damn near impossible to evict them for non-payment that the Arnez family decided they needed to be proactive about their finances.

“This Coronavirus is just so inconvenient,” said Zachary Arnez, an insurance litigator. “On top of everything else, because I make several hundred thousand dollars a year, we didn’t even qualify for the stimulus money. Once again, the Federal Government leaves the upper-middle-upper class people like me out to dry.”

Mr. Arnez told the Plantain that “instead of complaining about things like those liberals in Congress,” he decided to call his colleague Brett, a corporate tax lawyer, and had him incorporate his family as a limited liability corporation. “It’s one of the best financial decisions I’ve ever made outside of my uncle having founded Bacardi.”

“We’re technically a regional airline now” laughed his wife as she poured a 2PM glass of wine. The Arnez Family Airline, LLC, is now set to receive $4.6 million in government subsidies, which they plan to help pay for food and shelter…on their upcoming winter vacation in Fiji, as well as pick up several distressed properties once the housing market collapses.

We asked Mr. Arnez how he and his family could just call themselves an airline all of a sudden. “We’re an airline, you can check the records,” he told us. We asked him if he were really an airline then where did he fly and where are his planes. “We have no planes or flights scheduled,” he said before reasoning “that’s why this bailout is so important for us.”

The Plantain tried to speak with Zachary’s colleague, Brett Wilkinson, himself a Panamanian chartered cruise vessel receiving over $2.5 million in government bailout money, but he refused to sit down with us without a retainer. He did tell us, however, that because he is technically flagged in Panama, he is in the process of applying for several grants set up for Hispanic businesses.

Author’s Note: Shortly after turning in this article, I was fired from this job without severance. Thankfully, I make less than $75,000 a year and would be eligible for an additional one-time payment of $1,200, assuming Congress will pass such help, which they won’t. My rent is $2,400 a month.

Author’s Second Note: On the advice of counsel, I have incorporated as the Kennedy Center for The Arts.

Rabbi Mordechai Shalomberg-Deckchair of Temple Beth Um told his congregation that reports of iguanas raining down from the sky is indeed a sign that the people of earth were experiencing a new plague from god.”What many so-called “scientists,” mostly goyum, say is just a consequence of the cold weather freezing the cold blooded reptiles’ central nervous systems into immobilization is actually, according to the Talmud, evidence that Hashem is very angry at us and wants us to repent.

“Aw, come on!” said synagogue attendee Benja Saferstein, who only went to this morning’s services because he’s visiting his parents from his home in San Francisco. “What could god be so angry about again? The guy has everything?”

Rabbi Shalomberg-Deckchair contemplated the young Juden’s question for a moment before responding, “Mostly the shellfish, Benja! As they say at Yeshiva, ‘If you eat shellfish, you’re being selfish!”, said the Rabbi to his congregation who chuckled politely.

Rabbi Shalomberg-Deckchair said the apocalypse is expected to last a few more weeks, with high chances of dead oxen, boils, and several nights of intense darkness. He said that some of the more nasty plagues may be avoided through a healthy donation to the Temple’s B’Nai Brit Youth Drive.

Miami-Dade government suspended all government operations this morning and announced it would do so until the weather reached at least 70 degrees. “It’s just too damn cold to do anything,” said Mayor Daniella Levine-Cava from underneath three blankets in her bed while The View played in the background. The Mayor says once the Government reopens, she plans to enact legislation that would prepare the County for future cold fronts by providing educational services to the community to teach people how to dress for the weather and how to use their home’s heater. 

Residents around South Florida are reacting to the cold weather change by shivering uncontrollably. Except Dave, who insists he isn’t cold and even wore shorts to work today to prove the point. “It isn’t so bad. I don’t know what people are complaining about,” said Dave as he brought a cup of iced coffee to his blue lips. 

Breaking news out of Venezuela: Hugo Chavez is still dead. 

Despite conflicting reports, the A.P. confirms that dictator Hugo Chavez is still dead, although he is feeling better and better each day. The news, which is still developing, has been confirmed by several independent sources who report that they have spoken to Hugo Chavez since his death and can confirm that he is, in fact, still dead. 

The Plantain attempted to ask Hugo Chavez about accusations set forth by Donald Trump’s lawyers today that he conspired to steal the election for Joe Biden, but has not been able to reach him for a statement on account of he’s dead.

More as this story develops. 

It’s GIVE MIAMI DAY! This means you’re being pressured to donate your hard-earned money to a bunch of charities and non-profits who want to selfishly spend it on making the community you live in a better place. Those jerks. 

Last year, Give Miami Day raised over $14.4 million for local non-profits, and this year, the communists behind that plot expect to raise even more. To get to the bottom of this, the Plantain searched through the more than 900 nonprofits raising money through Give Miami Day to find the worst ways you can spend your money: 

1) Zapatos para pata sucios – Established in 2014, this non-profit shovels money to popular Miami nightclubs and less popular gas stations, and provides shoes to pata sucias. “This is like a super important issue,” said a bunion on the bottom of a very attractive redhead’s left foot as she stumbled across Alton Road at 1:30 AM. 

2) Tyler’s Herros – This organization goes into high-income areas of Miami and replaces old Lebron Heat Jerseys with bootlegged Jimmy Butler and Tyler Herro jerseys. “This is great, I really needed a new jersey,” said Insurance broker Xavier Alvarez from the Miller’s Ale House in Pinecrest. “Thank you so much, this really helps our family,” added his wife, Camilla, telling us privately that the Lebron jersey didn’t actually fit Xavier anymore on account of all of their trips to Miller’s Ale House.

3) Sweaters for South Florida – This nonprofit was established by your coworker who insists anything under 77 degrees is “sweater weather.” Founder Luca Johannson says that though SFSF will do absolutely nothing at all (so don’t even ask) to help reduce South Florida’s homelessness problem, they will make sure that all of the homeless people that line South Florida’s streets are balmy and never even the slightest bit cold.  

4) The Gloria Estefan Medical Fund – The Miami Icon and Stage-4 Conga survivor has set up a fund to help those diagnosed with the fire of desire turn the beat around and get back on their feet. 

Want to donate? Great! Head to the Give Miami Day Nonprofit Finder and find the one you’d like to donate to.

We promise the ones we mentioned are totally in there. You can’t find them? Keep looking. Actually – go make some coffee – there are over 900 nonprofits participating in Give Miami Day 2020, so this might take a while.

DONATE TO GIVE MIAMI DAY

Abigail Braman woke up Monday morning at 7:45 AM and spent several minutes staring at the ceiling contemplating her life decisions before preparing herself for another day of work. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she reached over to grab her cell phone from her nightstand and deleted the seven to 40 pieces of junk mail (mostly from Williams Sonoma and the Democratic Party) that accumulates in her inbox every night. After doom-scrolling through the President’s latest effort to steal the election, she noticed something unusual. “Oh my god!” said Ms. Braman out loud to herself as she stared at her home screen. “It’s sweater weather!”

The 27-year-old paralegal jolted out of her bed and ran outside to see if it was true. As soon as stepped outside, the crisp air smacked her face. She took a deep breath before getting nervous and putting on her mask. Still, she enjoyed the sounds of birds chirping. Had they always sounded so beautiful? It was 71 degrees in Miami. Today was going to be a wonderful day.

Ms. Braman could hardly contain herself as she searched for the perfect outfit. As she reached toward the back of her closet to search for her winter clothing, she thought about how bad this year had been. The election and the pandemic was bad enough, but Miami also had six months of unbearable heat that brought a deluge of feminine dampness, hair frizz, and mosquito bites with it. But not today.

Abigail dressed in a sleek black long sleeve thermal from Banana Republic that she layered with an opened red flannel jacket from H&M and a green camouflage army jacket, also from Banana Republic. Before she left for work, she grabbed a gray checkered scarf a knitted American flag beanie she bought several years ago for a “girls trip” to New York. As she took one last look at herself in the mirror before she left, she smiled. “You look cute!” she said to herself before taking a selfie of her outfit and texting her mother in Virginia.

On her way to work, she stopped at a Starbucks for a celebratory Peppermint Hot Chocolate. It was 75 degrees. Abigail stood in line and admired the very expensive Canada Goose jacket worn by the woman in front of her. “Starbucks always tastes better in a red cup!” she posted to Twitter while she waited an unreasonably long time for her drink. They had forgotten to put peppermint in it. She considered asking them to remake it but didn’t want to be difficult.

When she arrived at her downtown Miami office at 9:00 AM, it was 79 degrees. The lawyers in the office had been allowed to work from home since March, but since she was only a paralegal she was still required to come to the office.

“Can you believe this weather?” asked a lightly sweating Abigail to the office assistant Nancy Randazzo as she removed her scarf and beanie.

“This is why I live in Miami!” said Abigail through her mask before returning to her desk and pondering, as she often does, whether she should have moved to California with Heather and David after college. “What’s so great about San Francisco anyway?” she thought to herself before scrolling through Heather’s Instagram for 11 minutes. 

At noon, Abigail joined Nancy and Javier, one of her firm’s office service workers, for lunch at a nearby Greek restaurant across. They had agreed that the three of them would be a “pod” so they could eat together, but Javier didn’t seem to be taking his pod responsibilities seriously and had developed a sniffle. Still, Abigail didn’t want to be rude and say anything.

During lunch, Nancy gave Abigail and Javier a comprehensive update on the difficulty she was having homeschooling her son and Javier gave a detailed account of the latest infection rates before coughing for several seconds into a napkin and blaming it on his allergies.

The restaurant itself was decent, although more expensive than anticipated. They charged for soda refills, which Abigail felt should have really been mentioned at some point. As she, Nancy, and Javier walked back to their office, it was 84 degrees. “Still sweater weather,” she said to herself as she wiped away a few beads of sweat that developed on her upper lip.

For the next several hours, Abigail alternated between proofreading a long brief for one of her firm’s partners and scrolling through Pinterest for pictures of architecturally significant gingerbread houses. At 3:15 PM, she received a phone call from a lawyer named Steven who asked that she leave the office to pick up a docket of files from the Circuit Court. She redressed in her winter outfit and began to walk the six blocks to the Court. It was 88 degrees.

When she arrived at the courthouse steps, she was out of breath and could feel sweat dripping down her back. Entering the Clerk’s office, she removed her beanie to reveal a mess of oily hair that was half tamped to her head. By the time she left the Court for the return trip, it was 91 degrees. It started to rain down on her when she was a block away from her office. 

The rain had dampened the papers she had retrieved from the Court. When she returned to her office, she had a message from Steven: “Abi, it turns out the files were online so I didn’t actually need you to go,” said the message without a thank you or apology. As she settled back at her desk she noticed her own smell. Luckily, she kept a travel-size bottle of baby powder to combat groin sweat, a remedy she was worried may cause cervical cancer but willing to risk it today considering the odor that had developed.

At 5:00 PM she left her office. The temperature had dropped to 89 degrees. As Abigail sat in traffic, she started to once again thumb through Heather’s Instagram. “I can’t believe she didn’t ask me to be a bridesmaid,” said Abigail to herself as she turned her car’s air conditioning higher. “It’s so god damn hot,” she defeatedly admitted. 

After an hour and fifteen minutes, Abi arrived at her home. She removed the soaking thermal and flannel she had on all day and placed her jacket back into her closet. As she resigned herself to her couch for the night, she started watching a documentary about the murder of JonBenet Ramsey before deciding to see what The Walking Dead was all about. After two episodes, she didn’t see the big deal and put on a TBS marathon of a Friends re-runs. She fell asleep about halfway through “The One Where Joey and Rachel Kiss with a lollipop in her mouth.”

She woke up at 1:45 AM. aAfter washing a few dishes, she returned to her bed at 2:20 AM. She briefly considered showering but was too tired and decided she would just wash her armpits, neck, thighs, and knees with a wet terrycloth in the morning.

As Abigail Braman plugged in her phone for the night and laid back in her bed she checked the next morning’s weather report:

Low of 87 degrees/High of 92.

“Fuck.”

Freelance journalist Jason Ireland was killed in his home Tuesday for reportedly publishing an article that contained several comma splice errors, authorities confirmed.

“We’re all very sad to hear about Jason”, his editor, Nathanial Masserati, told the Plantain. “But he was always putting commas on the outside of quotation marks like a real twat and was also inconsistent with how he used commas to set off proper nouns, so he deserved it.”

Mr. Ireland is survived by his wife, Evangeline, and son Oscar. He enjoyed watching baseball which was his favorite sport and leaving commas out of sentences with non-restrictive elements.

Mr. Ireland was killed by a longtime fan of his writing who noticed several grammatical errors in his latest article as well as an incorrect factual statement that arguably undermined one of the article’s premises. When his killer, let’s call him Carl with a K, discovered these errors and learned he could not cancel any subscription because Mr. Ireland wrote for free he decided to murder him. “Your writing doesn’t always read like you think it sounds in your head”, were reportedly the last words Mr. Ireland heard before being killed.

“His writing could be sloppy”, Nathanial also noted, telling this Reporter, that he occasionally would also add unnecessary commas, too. “I would send him primers on basic comma usage but he kept saying he was too busy to read them on account of all the writing I needed him to do since he was our only writer.”

When asked how he thought Mr. Ireland wanted to be remembered Nathanial said as someone extremely passive-aggressive that was willing to write an entire article using pseudonyms just to prove a point even though he had a pile of more pressing work he should be doing.”

When my editor tapped me to find out why Miami Cubans overwhelmingly supported Donald Trump in the 2020 election, I was confident I already knew the answer. As a non-Latinx man living in Miami, I consider myself an expert on the Cuban community. Since graduating from Penn State in 2017 (Go Nittany Lions!) to take a job with The Plantain, I have come to truly understand the Cuban-American experience. I live in a condo on West Brickell (only a few minutes from Little Havana), love authentic Cuban cuisine (vaca frita, YUM!) and even took a salsa lesson at Ball & Chain before the pandemic. So, while it’s true I am technically not actually Cuban, I’ve kissed enough Yanelys and Usnavies on the cheek over the last three years that I now consider myself an honorary member of that community free to criticize and stereotype the entire group without self-reflection. And that’s why I know the reason Cubans overwhelmingly went for Trump is because of Castro or something.

You see, Castro was…a dictator (like Trump!) who was mean to his people after promising them healthcare, I think, so Cubans started to leave for Miami. To be honest, I don’t know all of the details about the Cuban Revolution but I do know for sure that because Castro was socialist, all of the Cubans who moved to Miami are very anti-Socialist and also not to tell anyone that I had a Che Guevara poster in my dorm room at Penn State because he’s sort of their Hitler. Oh, and Castro is also their Hitler, too. They have two Hitlers. Anyway, since Castro was really bad and also socialist, all Republicans have to say is that something is also socialist and every Cuban will start to hate it. It’s sort of like how if I hear a song in a TJ Maxx, I might like it until I Shazam it and find out it’s the Eagles. Socialism is basically the Eagles in Miami – once you find out it’s them, it makes it impossible to like it anymore.

After turning in the previous paragraph to my editor, I was surprised to find out that he was actually a pretty big fan of the Eagles and also felt my understanding of the Cuban-American experience was incomplete and lacked nuance. “C’mon, do you really think Miami’s entire Cuban population is so gullible that all you need to do is say something is socialist and they’re all going to automatically hate it?” he asked me over lunch at a Cuban restaurant near my home in West Brickell. I was caught off guard by the question and didn’t even have time to swallow the vaca frita (so good) before responding that yes, I did in fact believe Cubans in Miami would instinctively hate anything labeled socialist.

As our meal went on, my editor told me that my view of Miami’s Cuban population is rooted in a stereotype that does not represent the entire community and fails to appreciate why the socialistic scare tactics are effective against some Cuban-Americans. “I just don’t think you could ever really understand the trauma experienced by Cubans under Castro and how that still impacts how some of them react to U.S. politics,” he said. “I totally do understand, because my brother’s wife’s family was in the Holocaust,” I told him. “And that was way worse.” He gave me a frustrated look.

“My point is that sure, there is a small, overwhelming majority of the Cuban population in Miami that is triggered by the socialist label, and politicians love to exploit that group. But to say all Cubans reflexively oppose all things labeled “socialist” is undermined by the fact that Cubans in Miami support the Affordable Care Act, derided as socialist.

“So why did they vote for Trump then? Are they just prone to supporting dictators…because of Castro?” I asked, lowering my voice so no one else in the restaurant heard me use the C-word.

“No!” he chortled, spitting a bit of mojo pork across the table and into my mouth. “Cubans in Miami hate Castro! You see, it’s these lazy arguments that Cubans are somehow predisposed to support autocrats that allow the Democratic party to throw their hands up and not reflect on why they lose elections down here that they should be winning. Maybe the Democratic party is just not offering Cuban-Americans a platform that addresses the needs of their community? Did you ever think of that?”

“Then what does Miami’s Cuban-American community want?” I asked, eagerly anticipating the insight that my editor was about to reveal but also starting to worry that the mojo pork he accidentally spat in my mouth was going to give me Covid.

“There isn’t one answer! Cubans in Miami are not a monolith. But every four years, a plane full of consultants fly down here from D.C. and treat them like they are. So, every four years the left comes down here and puts on events featuring some old white guy dancing in a guayabera and handing out free cafecitos while talking about how strong of a capitalist he is, while on the right they host events featuring some old white guy dancing in a guayabera and handing out free cafecitos while talking about how much of a communist the guy on the left is. The result is Democrats hoping to court Cuban voters are too afraid to be labeled a socialist to present an economic platform that addresses the inequality and low-standard of life that plagues the vast majority of Miamians regardless of origin, while the Republicans play to the stereotype that Cubans will vote against anything they call socialistic. But doesn’t the fact that many Cuban-Americans voted for Obama and support Obamacare contradict that narrative?”

“I thought Cubans hated Obama though. Because they’re all racist, right? That’s why they like Trump so much,” I asked. “No! All of them are racist?” he responded. “There are white Cubans that are racist and white Cubans that aren’t. There are also black Cubans that have a completely different experience. To say that all Cubans are racist is like saying that all Americans are racist: It fits a narrative and there are too many that are, but it doesn’t tell the whole story. So, while yeah, sure, there is a problem of colorism and white supremacy within Cuban culture, as there is within any colonized culture, to say all Cubans are racist and therefore voted for Trump because he is also racist is just lazy and an attempt to explain away why Democrats keep losing winnable races in Miami.”

As I thought about everything my editor told me over lunch, I felt embarrassed about how little I understood about the majority culture that surrounded me in Miami and how vocally critical I was about their role in last week’s election. This instinct to blame Cubans generally for Biden’s failure to win the state undermines the efforts of progressive organizers like Cubanos Con Biden that tried to reach out to Miami’s Cubans but who, from an outsider’s perspective at least, seemed to suffer from a lack of support and long-term voter engagement movement that should have been a priority of the Democratic Party long before the 2020 election.

I thanked my editor for lunch and apologized for lumping all Cubans together. “Don’t mention it. I remember when I first came to Miami from Dartmouth in 2012 and thought the same thing. But after eight years here, you really start to understand the Cuban-American experience and how nuanced it can be,” said my editor, Wyatt J. Wellingsworth-Corduroy-Smithfash III. “At this point, I now consider myself an honorary member of the Cuban community,” he said before telling me that I really should try the mojo pork next time since only white people order vaca frita.

“¡Dale!” I told him. “I’ll definitely get it next time, Wyatt.”