Are you banging your head against a CRT monitor because all your cool friends are at Art Basel while you’re stuck in some shitty office overhearing Yazmin, a woman in a blue pantsuit with mousse in her hair, talk to her ex-husband about she hasn’t received this month’s child support payment? Don’t sweat it, kid. Truth is, your friends are currently surrounded by a bunch of assholes and mediocre art.
But don’t take my word for it. Take a look at El Chapo’s Revenge (Beach Better Have My Money). It’s not just a pun, but an “interactive artwork” where, after forking over $250 bucks, Art Basel attendees are given a metal detector and sent on a scavenger hunt inside a fenced off beach area. Zerek Kempf and Nathan Gwynne, the creators of El Chapo’s Revenge, allow participants to take home whatever they find, which seem to be all sorts of “prizes” (zinc-casted chicken bones, Donald Trump heads, corn cobs, etc).
But like so many half-assed hipster art projects which aim to be cynical, ironic, or political, El Chapo’s Revenge is very convoluted and underwhelming:
We were inspired by these prison break stories. Before the prison break of El Chapo there were two inmates in upstate New York that had just broken out of prison. El Chapo is a kind of almost mythic figure at this point (which) is something that we’re interested in. And the idea of a hole, I think, is one that everyone can relate to. A hole goes both ways; it’s a way to get out, but it’s also a way to get in. It allows the otherwise frivolous frolicking on the beach that happens every year at Art Basel, Miami Beach, to have a little bit of a reminder that there’s a lot of other things going on in the world.
Hopefully some of those “other things” include vaguely-worded mission statements and terrible art in supposedly innovative art fairs.
See El Chapo’s Revenge (Beach Better Have My Money), if you must, below — and lay off Yazmin! Being a single mother is incredibly difficult, you judgmental asshole.
María Rubio was so good as Catalina Creel, an iconic telenovela villain, the role ruined her career
According to sources on Twitter, and also TvNotas, the holy bible of Mexican gossip, María Rubio, the legendary actress best known for her role as Catalina Creel de Larios in Cuna de lobos, has passed away. She was 83 years old.
Thanks to her role as Soraya Montenegro in María la del Barrio, Itati Cantoral has been dominating the internet with an insane amount of memes, gifs, and even a House of Cards promo special. Itati blew up in the mid ’90s, when older millennials were still teens, and she’s that generation’s go-to character when it comes to Mexican telenovela villains.
Yes, Cantoral was great as Soraya, but the top dog in the telenovela villain game was — and has always been — María Rubio. The Tijuana-born actress was so good in Cuna de lobos that, according to an interview she did with Cristina Saralegui, the role ruined her career:
“[Catalina Creel] was a difficult, beloved character. I enjoyed playing her, but she also hurt me a lot. People completely forgot about María Rubio and now it seems that, after 40 years of being an actress, I’ve only done Catalina Creel.”
Catalina, a murderous matriarch, was known for having some of the best one-liners in telenovela history. But in the same interview with Saralegui, which was filmed over 20 years ago, María proved to be just as cunning and smart as her infamous character, but also incredibly funny:
“[Although I played a villain], I’ve received nothing but compliments, love, and admiration. Never aggression. I think viewers do attack the bad ones — bad actresses, that is.”
If you understand Spanish, check out the hilarious interview below. Watch María viciously own everyone in a panel of full of young telenovela villains:
Traumatic advice from aunt Rosa: “Don’t torture your Care Bear, Mijo. Or else.”
I was 6 years old when I yelled at Tugs, my Care Bear. I put him in time-out for not agreeing to the rules of an imaginary game I had just created.
I built a little time-out fortress for him to stay in while I played with my other toys. Coincidentally my tía Rosa was visiting that day. I urged her to see all my toys when she came into the house. I also explained to her that Tugs was in time-out, to which she replied in shock, “Mijo, mira, You have to be nice to your toys.”
I replied, “Tía, I am nice to my toys, but I’m teaching him a lesson.”
She contested nervously, “No, Mijo, you have to be nice to your toys or they might not be nice to you.”
I wasn’t following her logic.
“Mijo, if you’re not nice to your toys, then at night time they might wake up and crawl into your bed to cut your toes with tiny razors,” she said slowly while staring at my imprisoned Care Bear.
“What?!” I whispered to her while looking at Tugs from the corner of my eye.
“Yes, your toys might do very bad things to you if you don’t treat them good.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
She stood up and walked towards the doorway.
“Mijo, I brought you some tortillas. Come in the kitchen and let’s warm them up,” Rosa said casually.
From then on, Tugs sat on a tufted pillow on my dresser while I slept in velcro shoes for the next year. Growing up in my Mexican-American family meant that everything was possibly alive and watching you.