Free Let Me Off at the Top!: My Classy Life and Other Musings by Ron Burgundy Page A

bandit, the usual Mexican bender ended with me in jail. Traditionally I’d wake up and some squat
polistero
(Spanish for “policeman”) would be pointing his pudgy Mexican finger in my face yelling something about me throwing punches. I don’t doubt it. I have thrown a lot of punches in Mexico. When you get the whole news team down there, Brian, Champ and Brick, you are talking about a human tornado of irresponsible fists. We don’t go looking for fights, but gosh darn it, those Mexican guys down there can’t take criticism. I mean, you open your mouth about how their food smells, or how they speak American worse than children, or how there isn’t one of them with blond hair—reasonable and fair criticism—and they just go crazy! Do I love Mayan art? Yes. Do I love Cortés? Yes. Do I love Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass? Of course I do. I love the Mexican peoples but they can be a proud, fiery race. One theory, which I believe will one day be taken as fact, explaining why their passion often outstrips their reason isrelated to brain size. Due to a bean diet and other environmental factors, like their proximity to the sun and its powerful shrinking rays, their brains are just not that big. Has this theory been proven? No, but sometimes it’s not prudent to wait for all the facts to come in. You have to quickly sign up for a theory so you can say, “I was there first.”
    There are many great things about Mexico. If it wasn’t a huge waste of time a guy could write a whole book about Mexico. They got history. I mean, somebody made those pyramids, right? (I’m revealing stuff I said I never would, so I would prefer it if you read this next sentence after I’m dead. Those pyramids were built by aliens. That’s a fact. The pyramids in Egypt were built by the British in the seventeenth century and the pyramids in Vegas were built by my good friend Steve Wynn. These are all facts. They are disputable for sure but facts just the same.) Mexico is very rich with history. If I were to write such a book, a gigantic waste of my time mind you, but if I were to write it I would bind it in sumptuous Corinthian leather and illustrate it with paintings by my very best friend, LeRoy Neiman. The book would weigh at least twenty-five pounds and would make a great addition to any fine library, and if you’re into pressing flowers between the pages of books this would be the one. I have a book of poems by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the undisputed champion of American poetry, that I purchased in an old curio shop called B. Dalton for thirty-six dollars with beautiful etched illustrations and golden pages bound in the most expensive absolutely real leather available. It’s probably a first edition and I own it. I make sure people see it and talk about it when theycome in my house. You can’t miss it. The display case I built for it makes it impossible to open the front door all the way but it’s worth it. I’m sure this Mr. B. Dalton is pretty steamed I walked off with a first-edition Longfellow, our greatest poet, for thirty-six bucks! Guess what? He’s not getting it back! Anyway, if I was to write a history of Mexico, meaning if I was willing to take time away from picking my nose or watching
Jeopardy!
or sitting on the toilet, it would be that kind of book—a big luxurious book with old-timey Spanish-style letters. I would call the book
The Fabulous Fables and Rich Tales of Olden Mexico and Its Regal Peoples
. I would like to see that title written in gold! I’m beginning to think I may just write this book. I bet everyone in Mexico would appreciate it—to have a book written specifically about you by a legitimately important American! Who wouldn’t want that? The Mexicans may not deserve such a book but I’m going to give it some serious thought. Can you imagine waking up one morning in that godforsaken, dust-blown country and then hearing that Ron Burgundy has taken the time to write a book all about you and your