Lucador, huh? Mexican toad?
For a suburban white guy you're very... what's the word...
I don't mean that in a good way.
One never does, really. One never does.
So you keep playing with your collection of Tijuana-tchochkes-slash-narcotics-concealment-devices, and I'll keep doin' what I do, reading Winston Churchill's A History of the English Speaking Peoples beneath my commemorative bust of General Douglas MacArthur.
Now I'm going to eat a mayonnaise sandwich and listen to some jazz.