Tío Chano Vs. Cinesotupotus

by Joe Lima


 

People have been saying to me for months, “Joe, where’s Tío Chano?” Referring, of course, to my Uncle Luciano.

Well, the short answer is, I didn’t know. For as long as I have known Tío Chano, that is to say, for my entire life, Tío Chano has disappeared for months at a time. Nobody in the family knows where he goes, and we have learned not to ask.

At the end of August 2009 Tío Chano asked me for a ride to LAX. I dropped him off at the Tom Bradley International Terminal at 2:30 AM on August 30th. We heard nothing from him until less than a week ago.

The phone rang at 1:30 AM.

“Hello?”

“Pepito!”

“Tío Chano, good to hear your voice! What’s up?”

“Nothing I can talk about. Can you pick me up at the airport?”

“When?”

“Right now.”

So I drove out to LAX and picked up Tío Chano. In the car he asked me, “Did you see the State of the Union address?” “Yeah.” “Que descaro, chico,” he mumbled. And then he fell asleep. When we got home Tío Chano headed up to the guest room, locked the door and did not come out for three days. The day before yesterday he emerged from the guest room and made himself a steaming pot of Café Bustelo, which he poured down his throat in quick, sweet demitasse shots.

“Voy al cine,” he announced. “I’m going to the movies.”

He came back 45 minutes later, disgusted. He asked if he could use the video camera, and headed back up to the guest room.


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Posted Feb 7th 2010 at 3:15 pm in Film, Political Humor, Video | 43 Comments