"Nacho" ordinary avocados... get it?

Sombrero.  Mustache.  Nachos.  Macho.  The essences of man.  For what is more macho, than a mustache?  For what is man, without nachos?  A hungry man. And what could possibly make nachos more manly, than avocados?  Avocados with mustaches, and the sombrero, just in case you thought avocados were not manly enough.  At least, I think I’m putting this one together correctly.

Again, we see the need to add gender to our produce (I almost said vegetable, but according to this avocados are technically a fruit).  Simply identifying the avocado as it is, is not enough.  Rightly so.  They don’t really do much on their own except grow from a tree, and then we harvest them.  We cut them in half, knife the pit, pull it out, and dispose of it.  Spoon out the nutritious, green insides and that’s pretty much it.  Eat it without preparation, or mash them into guacamole.  Mmm.  Guacamole.

But these avocados, uh huh.  They don’t take no guff.  I probably wouldn’t want to mess with an avocado that has a mustache.  I probably wouldn’t want to prepare them either.  I once proudly sported a mustache, (though it took some coaxing, and months of long, hard thought to come to terms with the idea, and execution) and I suppose I’d feel some sort of remorse.  Mustache guilt, if you will.

Although if a box of them came in to the shop wearing little sombreros, I’d be all about that.  I’m the type of person that would probably save all of the little hats.  Maybe even try one on, wear it around the office, er, kitchen, until my bosses yelled at me to take it off.  I’d most definitely wear them at home, though.  They can’t yell at me there.  I’m really craving a miniature sombrero now.  Ah, the power of advertising.

But at heart, I think what really perturbs me about this particular macho fellow, is his (yep, identifying him as male) lack of other facial features, beyond the eyebrows.  Mustache, eyebrows, sombrero – check.  All male.  Eyes, mouth, ears, nose, hair on head – nope, not going to do it.  I guess one could add little, muscular arms or something, while we’re in the business of macho-ing this fruit up.

And lastly, I think I’ll try to avoid playing the race card here, but I’m guessing (this is just a guess) this particular brand probably came form Mexico.  I could be wrong.  Honestly.

But on second thought,  hell, why not?  We’ve already made this fruit male, why not add nationalities?  We could give this produce whole life stories, stories about their ancestors, about when their grand parents emigrated to this country, boatloads of young avocados coming to America to find their fortunes, to live out the American dream…

On third thought, yeah, that’s probably not going to work.  We do just kind of eat them (given the current political climate, ponder that metaphor).

Speaking of eating, now I really want nachos.  Nachos dipped into sour cream.  And guacamole.  Oh, damn, now that’s macho.  Except I’m forbidden to eat avocados.  Well, it’s mostly self-imposed, unless I’m home for Christmas, then it is really enforced.  My mom makes some very delicious guacamole every year.  Except I’m only allowed to eat a little bit.  Truth be told, avocados tend to give me gas.  Rather horrible gas, not just the sonorous kind.  The deadly kind.  Not that you all really wanted to know that, it’s just a dilemma for me.  I do really enjoy the avocado, but my body’s reaction tells me small doses, friend.  Small doses.


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