Bobby.
“Bobcommandante Marcos, please.”
No. Bobby, take that thing off and stop leading Zapatistas.
“They are my people.”
They’re not. Do you even speak Spanish?
“I understand it fluently.”
Bob, don’t defend the indigenous peoples of Chiapas?
“If not me, who?”
Literally anyone. Take that thing off your head and go back to the resort.
“Yeah. Gonna liberate it.”
Don’t liberate anything, Bobby. Go play guitar.
“The guitar of freedom.”
Whatever.
Way better than amoebic disintary.
“Everything here is better than amoebic dysentery. ”
Except for the home videos.