Brushito: Mexico's Coming World Dominance

I was in Guadalajara not long ago, and aside from the wonderful climate (second only to Kenya!) and its proximity to Tequila, Mexico (a.k.a. Big Rock Candy Mountain), there is something else to recommend the city. Something utterly original and utterly chilling--proof that the U.S. has bigger things to fear than China's rise as a world power.

How many times have you found yourself at a fancy restaurant with a lovely person you'd like to get to know better, only to realize that your breath smells like a fisherman's ass? Those condoms in the bathroom aren't going to do you a lick of good. If you were lucky enough to find yourself in a bathroom in a Guadalajara restaurant, you might find a giant vending machine--about the size of the Monolith from 2001--filled with mysterious little plastic bubbles. And inside each tiny bubble is a tiny toothpaste, an assemble-it-yourself toothbrush, and a little flossing tool.

Brushito is cute, cheap at a mere 20 pesos, and it solves all your immediate problems. To my thinking, that's the very definition of high technology. Mexico is beating us, my friends. Prepare for the opening of the seventh seal.

Forget Crystal Meth: B:OOST! B:OOST! B:OOST!

I was in Guadalajara and Tequila the last few days, and I learned about something that is either going to re-create human civilization from whole cloth or destroy it outright. Boost Active Energy (not to be confused with this Boost, which apparently has real nutritional aspirations) is a Mexican energy drink that has the same allure of those sirens who seductively beckon sailors to certain death.

Boost is an electric blue color, and it has the syrupy sweet taste of candy. Many people, after their first Boost, say something like "The first sip is like death, but the second sip is life." That's right, it's power is mysterious, reaching into the realm of metaphysics. Most connoisseurs (addicts) recommend mixing it with Jose Cuervo Platino. Platino is around $50 a bottle, so it's kind of like that scene in Pretty Woman where Richard Gere drives Julia Roberts around in his Lotus. (Don't think about that too hard.)

One of my cohorts on this trip (he shall remain anonymous, because he's back in the United States now, and I fear that his Boost addiction is going to destroy his life and career) was drinking around eight Boosts a day. He smiled and giggled and shook like a speedball fiend. On our last night, we were at a big bash in Tequila, and he was chatting up a lovely young doctor. Of course, the conversation turned to Boost because that's all he thinks about. When she learned that he was drinking that much Boost, the color drained from her face like she had seen Hamlet's ghost. She pointed ominously at the Boost con tequila clutched in his sweaty, clawlike hand and said, "Put it down. Put it down now." There's even a warning on the side of the can that says not to consume more than one a day. Of course, my friend doesn't speak Spanish, and it's too late for him. He's going to ride the Boost Beast to his ineluctable doom. Unlike Odyseus, my friend has no mast to lash himself to in order to resist the siren song.

Next time you're in Guadalajara, ask your waiter about this fine product: "Cuervo Platino con Boost, por favor." But, something about the gringo accent, something about the understated vowel sound, makes it tough for Mexicans to understand. So, you have to pronounce "Boost" like you're booing a villain who has just beaten a baby seal to death using a child as his club. BOOOOOOOOST! BOOST! BOOST!

Check out Boost's Web site. It's in Spanish, but that hardly matters.