Wiggers be out. The new thing is the Chonky, the cholo-honky hybrid, or the white guy who thinks he’s down with the Mexicans. Chonkytown is his home. It’s a white-trash dump in the Mexican ghetto. The Chonky has no friends, except people who are nice to him so they can make fun of him behind his back. It is okay to feel sorry for the Chonky, to not think he is cool.
There is only ever room enough for one Chonky per neighborhood. The Chonky is not a pack animal, like the Wigger. The Wigger can move from social circle to social circle, if not discreetly, at least fairly easily. The Chonky is completely incapable of adapting to anything but his Chonkytown digs, which are usually ugly and devoid of successful, well-adjusted visitors. The Chonky is the last resort of the ultimate white loser to retain the delusion of cool. Where 2 or more Chonkies are gathered, it’s just some dorky white dudes listening to Tejano rap they can’t understand the words to. The Chonky does not exist in the presence of other Chonkies. Each newly arriving Chonky cancels out any and all previous Chonkies; the more Chonkies per square foot, or mile, or mexican disco, the less the total sum of Chonky. This is because the presence of other Chonkies remind the Chonky that he’s not a Mexican; it is IMPERATIVE that the Chonky retain the illusion of being a Mexican; other white dudes only enforce the perception that the Chonky is just another white dude. Which he is, but if he KNOWS that, he ceases to be a Chonky. This is disastrous in the measuring of a population of Chonkies. Each Chonky must be considered individually, apart from other Chonkies. To measure a population of chonkies in any given community, approach all caucasian members of the community and engage them in a discussion of some aspect of Mexican culture that the average white person would know nothing about, in pidgin Spanish if possible. The subject of the discussion is of minor importance, what IS of importance is that the caucasians engaged are separated into 2 categories: those who throw a quarter at you to get you to leave them alone, and those who respond to the conversation with a lot of embarrassing and awkward references to Mexican culture about which the caucasian in question should, by all rights, have no knowledge whatsoever. The more eloquently and enthusiastically the misinformation supplied by the caucasian, the more likely the caucasian is to be, or to become, a Chonky.
From Dancing on the Ceiling of My Existential Kitchen
©2012 Nathan Payne