It’s 2018 and Don Francisco, who’s been doing his thing on Telemundo’s Don Francisco Presenta ever since he got the boot from Sábado Gigante, the longest running show ever in the motherfucking world, is still around, unfortunately.
Last weekend he interviewed New York’s Naked Cowboy and Patricia Cruz, his wife. As you would expect from a controversial host, shit got weird and awkward really fast.
First, Don Pancho assumes Patricia, a 30-year-old woman from Mexico City, if Wikipedia is to be believed, doesn’t speak English, hinting that perhaps she’s been communicating with her husband of 5 years, 47-year-old Robert John Burck, aka the Naked Cowboy, with guitar chords and tighty whities gift cards.
Patricia rightfully corrects Don Francisco (“I do speak [English] — mascado [chewed up], but I speak it”), before sharing their love story:
“I met him in 2008. I worked at a restaurant near Times Square, but I’d already seen him in a book. When I saw him [in person], I automatically fell in love. I said ‘I want that gringo.'”
Right on, carnala. You get that white meat.
Naked Cowboy broke out his bad Spanish and, for the most part, kept it together. But Don Francisco, being the condescending asshole that he usually is, especially when interviewing guests, quickly tries to peg Patricia as gold digger, or citizenship digger, to be more precise:
“Don Francisco: ‘So when you saw him, you fell in love with him right away?
Patricia: Yes. Since I was a little girl, I used to tell my mom I was going to marry a gringo.
Don Francisco: But for papeles [citizenship]?”
If it’s not for citizenship, how can anybody love an American man, is what Don Francisco wants to know.
Patricia deflects the question by saying her dreams of marrying a gringo were already in place even before she lived in America. The interview ends with Naked Cowboy picking up Don Francisco and probably wishing he could split him in half over his knee.
How Naked Cowboy and Patricia got together, and what their relationship might be like, is fascinating. Robert plays with the ultimate American symbol (a cowboy), and Patricia is a brown woman who made her lusty dream a reality. There is SO MUCH to investigate here.
But leave it to weird-ass Don Francisco to fuck up what should have been a fun, easy, and enlightening interview.
Check out the full episode below.
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.