The Spaniard

Primaries are today and we're already fighting in this house.

Good ol' dad frustrates the shit out of the other four members of this household.
The lone republican.
It's not that we're all die-hard dems or anything... well, besides my brother, that guy is border-line commie... but Dad's part of the GOP because... he wants to prove he's not Mexican.

The man swears he's Spanish- not Mexican, Spanish!- aka "the classy Spanish speakers."
Sure, Dad, you're Spanish... but it was so long ago down your family line, it practically doesn't count since it was your great-grandfather who sailed to America and later shacked up with a native. I can't claim Spanish citizenship, thank you. Plus, the rest of your ancestors were Native Americans, so... slow your roll, Hernan Cortez.

He's also white... he looks "American," (I DETEST using that term for a person of the USA, while in the USA... but I won't get on my soapbox) so he turns his back on the darker Mexicans.
A misguided attempt to assimilate, if you ask me.
Love your new country, but don't hate your old one.

We fight because of the unbelievably racist shit he says when we bring up negative points of one candidate.
Me: Dad... that cunt is so uneducated, not to mention ridiculously biggoted! How the hell are you going to vote for her?
Dad: She's just doing what has to be done. Send those wetbacks back where they came from.
Me: WTF? Dad... you were a "wetback."
Dad: Correction- I walked the desert and crossed the border by TJ. I was not wet at any point. Plus, times have changed. I lucked out.

How the hell I'm related to that baseness... I do not know.