Yo Quiero...Paz

I dedicate today's blog to the passing of a great American talent. The recent rash of celebrity deaths (not to be mistaken with the recent rash of celebrity rashes) can be overwhelming, and some of the lesser players may not get the press of a Walter Cronkite of Michael Jackson. This would be a true injustice in this case, as the death involved one of my personal favorite television personalities.

I speak, of course, of Gidget, the Taco Bell chihuahua.



Gidget effected me in a way that no commercial spokesdog had done before. She was a Mexican chihuahua, I am part Mexican. She wanted Taco Bell, I wanted Taco Bell. She spoke to chubby guys who were clearly stoned out of their gourds, I was a chubby guy who...wanted Taco Bell.

It was like she was talking just to me.

Let us not forget that in addition to her work for the Bell, Gidget took on other work in an effort to help her Hollywood friends. Oh sure, she put together an ad for Godzilla, who didn't really need the help, but she also stepped forward and came out of retirement when she heard her friend the Geiko gecko was going to replaced by a platypus (apparently testing showed that the platypus would appeal to cross markets, covering mammal lovers, duck lovers, and people like me who just find them delightfully ridiculous). Don't even get me started about how she carried Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blond 2. I hope the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences hangs its collective head in shame for that little oversight.



And so it was with a heavy heart that I donned my Yo Quiero Taco Bell shirt this morning. I wear it for the little soul that gave so much of herself to bring joy to others. I can only hope that she has found peace in a land of squeaky toys and all the burritos she can eat.



Vaya con Dios, perrita con mucho talento. Vaya con Dios.