† SINISTER PUBLICATIONS†

God Damn! What is it about música norteña that just fires up all the gears in my head and sends me into full desmadre mode — but in the best way possible? Los Cadetes, Los Tigres, Antonio Aguilar… boy, I could keep going. And then boom — carne asada, pollo a las brazas, y todo con un chingo de sazón para que arremangue la yegua.

Not every day turns out like this. Sometimes it’s on those days when the family’s fed up, when shit hits the fan, when the news is just pure basura. Or sometimes it’s the complete opposite — good vibes, buenas noticias, maybe a raise at work. Life is so damn random you just go with the flow.

I remember the good times when I was young and we had discadas, polladas, and carne asada without really knowing what was going on in the background. My parents might’ve been struggling to pay the bills, or maybe they were still figuring things out as a couple. I didn’t know. All I remember is the good of those times.

Growing up means looking back with open eyes and understanding why the chancla caught you in the back of the neck, or why your big bro suplexed the soul out of you. We were all just trying to survive in a world that could turn from nice to mierda in seconds. The Golden Days faded, and the gray rolled in.

The economy took a nosedive when we went to Iraq, sending bright-eyed teenagers to die in a war they didn’t start. I’m not here to sling politics — I give zero fucks about that game. But I do care about how the world lets these things happen. It would be ignorant not to see the rest of it: corruption in Mexico, kids starving in Africa, poverty in the favelas, women being beheaded for existing in the desert lands of the forgotten.

But that’s not the point. The real gist is knowing all that, understanding it… and still being able to pop a cold one, throw on some bad-ass Pesado tributes to the legends, and let the carne sizzle while everyone smiles — even if just for a moment. Because sometimes that’s all it takes to forget, even for a little while, that life can be a biotch.

Ni ante la tempestad me inco, perros.