CARLOS: Greetings! We are visitors from the planet Mexico, many light-years away. We have come in peace to establish friendly, mutually-beneficent relations.
DEB: What? WHAT is the name of your planet?
ANDY: Is this some kind of immigration metaphor
CARLOS: Our planet's name is Mexico. It means "fragrant flowering fruit" in our native tongue. Prior cultures have called it by other names. Guatemala. Honduras. El Salvador. Nicaragua.
ANDY: Okay, skip the cutesy alien schtick. What's the message? Is it about the border fence?
CARLOS: We do not know of any border fence. What a strange and inhumane concept!
ANDY: Aha!
CARLOS: Our nations are kept distinct by means of impassable canyons, policed by savage animals who devour trespassers.
ANDY: WAIT
CARLOS: On Mexico, creatures are segregated by horn quality into inviolable casts that annually rotate civic duties, Right now twosies are the lawyers, threesies the bakers, and ninesies like us are the astronauts.
WENDY: We do this because the Mexican race is biologically most suited to be accountants and cobblers. But we can't all be accountants and cobblers all of the time.
ANDU: I cannot figure out this metaphor
{{header: buenos dias from WONDERMARK.COM}}
{{alt-text: We are SO TIRED of the STEREOTYPE that ALL MEXICANS are accountants and cobblers!}}