Carlos Mencia is a polarizing figure. Over the course of a 22-year career, the California-based comedian has thrived on a confrontational, ripped-from-the-headlines style of humor that takes swipes at everything from immigration to ethnic identity to celebrity. He has offended many along the way, and arguably endeared many more, with hit comedy specials on Comedy Central and HBO.

He was born Ned Arnel Mencia in Honduras and raised in the predominantly Mexican neighborhood of East Los Angeles, Calif. He adopted the stage name Carlos Mencia at the beginning of his career, after the owner of L.A.'s famed Comedy Store told him no one would believe his angry Latino persona with a name like Ned.

Mencia does come off angry at times, famous (or infamous) for getting riled up and shouting at the top of his lungs. Still, he gives a disclaimer: He's just a comedian. It's his job to get a reaction. He says his no-holds-barred philosophy was inspired by watching comedian Paul Mooney and the audience reactions the controversial black comic would solicit. It was after watching Mooney that Mencia adopted the following mantra: "The stage is sacred. You can say anything, as long as it's funny."

Mencia recently returned from performing for the troops in the Middle East. He is currently on a national club tour to work on new material for a planned comedy special in the fall. Last week, he chatted with Austin Vida via phone about growing up in East L.A., clearing up the confusion surrounding his nationality and tackling the controversial Arizona immigration law SB 1070.

Mencia stops by Austin to perform at Cap City Comedy Club on Thursday, Aug. 12. Tickets are almost sold out. Call Cap City at 512-467-2333 for ticket availability.

You're from L.A., but you're no stranger to Texas. What roll has Texas had in shaping your career?

Mencia: It's one of the first places that I began to see that I had a fan base outside of Los Angeles. But more than that, it's a state that has Laredo, which is heavily influenced by Latino culture, and then you have Amarillo, which is not like a border town at all. So I began to find the nuances and differences between this crowd and that crowd. This joke was better here, but not as good there. It made me figure out how to be universally funny—to know that a joke that was funny in Corpus Christi was funny in Amarillo and Beaumont.

Your comedy routines are often mixed with serious topics in between the jokes. What's your goal or philosophy on stage?

Mencia: As long as it's funny, or its intent is to make you laugh or to put you in a mental frame where the next thing I'm gonna say is funny, then I'm okay with it. That stage is sacred. You can say anything you want, as long as it's funny. And that's always been my guide. Sometimes, in order to make a joke be funny, you have to be a little sad. If you're really happy and gleeful, it's not gonna have an impact. Sometimes I have to say something to put you in that frame of mind. And then kinda go "Boom!" and yank your chain. And that just came from watching other comedians do it way before I did and so much better than I did.

When we posted that you were coming to Austin, a few of our Facebook fans had an immediate negative response. Somebody wrote something like, "Carlos Mencia isn't a comedian. He isn't even Hispanic." I've heard people rag on you for not being Mexican but supposedly claiming you are. Can you clear up the nationality thing? And what do you make of people saying this kind of stuff?

Mencia: You know what, you could spend a lot of time thinking "Why do people think this?" or "Why do people think that?" I don't do that. I spend my time trying to be as funny and entertaining as I possibly can. That's what I do because that's what I have control over. If I go up on stage and I do a joke about how I was born in Honduras but in America everybody thinks I'm Mexican, and I get off stage and somebody says or tweets that I'm not Hispanic, I have no control over that. So I don't even spend my time on that. I spend my time trying to create and be fresh. You could spend the rest of your life trying to make people happy that are never gonna be made happy.

Facebook critics

You were born in Honduras, but people sometimes get it confused. Some accusations are harder to confront or dispel, but something like your nationality or place of birth is easy to prove or disprove. Isn't something fact-based like that worth addressing to people who say otherwise?

Mencia: But that's the thing, once you get into that whole thing, you'll end up going forever. You know what it is—when somebody doesn't like you, they go "Well, he sucks. He's this or that." And no matter how many times you say, "No, he doesn't suck; he's funny." And they go, "Well, I think he's not Hispanic." And you go, "He is Hispanic; he was born in Honduras." Then they say, "Well, he pretends he's Mexican." And you say, "No, but he actually says that he's not Mexican." And you just keep going and going, and it never stops. Because that's not their problem with me. Their problem is that they don't like my comedy. And that's okay.

Right.

Mencia: You just can't get tricked into that stuff. You'll kill yourself trying. So every day I get up, and first of all I'm grateful that I live in America because if I was still in Honduras, I'd still be this funny but I'd be milking a cow. I'd be under a cow and my friends would be going [in an affected Latino accent] "Hey Carlos, tell us a joke!" You know what I mean? That's what I focus on; I try to focus on the positive. And I owe that to the fans, really. You could kill yourself. Literally, kill yourself trying to make people happy that you will never make happy.

Let's talk about your family history. You were a legal immigrant from Honduras, but you grew up in East L.A. What was that immigrant experience like for you and your family?

Mencia: The big eye-opener was—and I can't call it racism because it's not about race—was how I was looked down upon in East L.A. because I wasn't from Mexico like everybody that I grew up with. I remember when I was a teenager was the first time I really found it out. I was dating this Mexican girl, and I went to her house and I was talking to her dad, and everything was awesome. Then he asked where I was born, and I said Honduras. And he flipped out. He was like, "What?! No, he's going to ruin the family. You cannot be with him!" I remember looking at him and going, "Whoa, what's wrong?" And he's like, "Honduras?! You're not even Mexican." And I was like, "First of all, I'm not an illegal. I'm here legally. I have a green card." And her family was illegal. And I was like, "You have the balls to talk; you don't even have your papers!" I remember going, "Oh my God. There's a difference between the way we see each other in East L.A." But then I realized that outside of East L.A., when I would hang out with my Mexican friends and people wanted to pick a fight, we were all one.

Right, exactly.

Mencia: I remember one time, I was hanging out with all my Mexican friends and we went to a football game in South Central. And a bunch of black kids started being like, "Hey, what's up you Mexicans?!" And all my Mexican friends were like, "What are we gonna do about it?" I was like, "I don't care; I'm not Mexican." And they were like, "They're talking to you too, Holmes." And I was like "Ain't that a bitch; now I'm Mexican." Now that you want to pick a fight with the big black dudes, "Hey, Carlos, you're just like us."

It's funny how that works.

Mencia: That's when I began to see the hypocrisy in it, and how everybody is fighting not to be the group that's made fun of. And there's always been that group in America, whether it's the Pollacks, whether it's Mexicans, whether it's blacks. Whatever it is, no one wants to be on the bottom of that totem pole. And, so, it began to shape my comedy, and shape me. I began to see that I'm Latino, but I'm not. I'm Mexican, but I'm not. I'm an American, but I'm not. Know what I mean? It allowed me to see things from the inside and outside, and not take it personal.

Your humor is very topical. You talk about current events and what's on the news. Surely, you have material for SB 1070, the Arizona immigration law. What kind of angle are you going to take with that?

Mencia: With laws like that, I try to look at all the angles on it. I try to make sure I'm not just poking fun at one side or the other. I try to really make sure I cover all my bases. I try to go to the heart of the matter, to that one place where, whether you're on the right or on the left, you have to laugh at the absurdity and truth of it.

Right on.

Mencia: So the first thing that came to mind for me was, look, if you want illegal aliens to stop coming to America, then stop giving them jobs, for Christ's sakes. They don't have an illegal immigration problem in El Salvador. Because when a Mexican went into El Salvador and said, "Hey, where's the work?" People in El Salvador went, "We were thinking you might tell us." No one gave him a job, and that was it. So I go to that first: This is a self-made problem.

Yeah, for sure.

Mencia: We hire these illegal immigrants; we tell them that they can work here as long as they keep quiet and we pay them under the table, or whatever we do. And then we freak out when they don't wanna leave, or they call their cousin and go, "Oh my God. You're not gonna believe this. They pay you this much. This is how they live, and they have water and everything." You know what I mean? So then I go, "Okay, what's an analogy that's gonna make people laugh at that moment? Where am I gonna go with that?" So I'll think of something very visceral. There are a lot of things I can think of, but at that moment I'll be like, "We give them jobs and then wonder why they're here. Isn't that like paying a hooker and then going, 'Wait, why are you touching my penis?!'" People will laugh and then go, "Oh my God, that's retarded." And I say exactly. And so I start from that point, and then after that I think I can go anywhere with the law. Making fun of it or making fun of the people or the enforcement of it. Whatever it is, because I first went to that one truth where people went, "Well, he's right about that." And then I try to stick to making it funny. Stick to making sure that it's not so serious that it forgets the punchline. Take it to that comedic level.

The Mexic-Arte Museum is celebrating the quince años of an annual exhibition that has helped many young Latinos display their talents for the first time.

The "15th Young Latino Artists: Consensus of Taste" exhibit features the works of 15 artists who have matriculated through the Young Latino Artists exhibition, which started in 1996. Sylvia Orozco, the co-founder and executive director of the museum, based the exhibit on Mexico’s El Encuentro Nacional de Arte Joven, a program that features work by artists under the age of 30. The exhibit runs through Aug. 30.

Claudia Zapata, curator of the exhibit and former intern at Mexic-Arte, said the premise of this exhibit was decided last year.

“I went through the work produced in the past 14 years by these artists and selected them based on how they were doing in their careers, their general notoriety and availability, of course,” she said.

The exhibit features work from 15 artists including Jesus Benavente, Candace Briceño, Margarita Cabrera, Bobby Dixon, Santiago Forero, Eduardo Xavier Garcia, Ivete Lucas, Randy Muniz, Cruz Ortiz, Matthew Rodriguez, Carlos Rosales-Silva, Abel Saucedo, Vargas-Suarez Universal, David “Shek” Vega and Jason Villegas.

“We have artists from the first group and some from last year. It varies, but it is a sporadic representation,” Zapata said, noting that though they didn't get someone from each of the 14 YLA exhibits, the selection of artists turned out for the best.

“It turned out to be a really good mix of media. We have a video installation, street graffiti, sculpture installations – it touches on all bases,” she said. “You can see why the artists have been successful. They shine individually and as a group.”

Randy Muniz, who participated in last year's YLA exhibit, had a mural titled “Won't Let You Win” on display. The work was like an oversized charcoal drawing, which was created directly on the museum wall.

“I focus a lot of street art and graffiti,” he said. “It's young and reckless. You see what you can get away with.”

Muniz said Troy Brauntuch, a fellow artist and University of Texas professor, was an important mentor and one of his most significant influences.

“I'd say he is one of the artists that had a major impact on me,” Muniz said. “He's the only teacher that made me give a damn.”

The YLA exhibits have given Muniz a chance to show off his development as an artist.

“Art is one of the only things I'm really good at and I want to see where it takes me.”

In the corner of a quaint neighborhood in East Austin stands a bright red and yellow building. What was once a church and former home of Church of the Friendly Ghost, now is home to Esquina Tango, a nonprofit organization that offers a variety of Latin American cultural activities.

As implied by the name, Esquina Tango started in 2008 as a simple solution for the lack of places in Austin that offered tango classes.

"There's no place where the heart is tango," said Monica Caivano, one of the owners of Esquina Tango (pictured below).

Caivano, with her proclaimed partner in crime, Gustavo Simplis, chose the church on East 3rd and Pedernales to open a place for Austinites to learn tango. Caivano has taught the sensual Argentine dance style in Austin since 1997, while tango has always been a part of Simplis' life.

As Esquina Tango started drawing more people, it quickly evolved beyond dance, as more classes and programs were added such as yoga, conversational Spanish and movie nights.

"We started with the concept of a nonprofit tying the community and culture. Making things accessible for neighbors, children, everybody," said Caivano.

And Esquina Tango seems to do just that. The nonprofit hosts weekly and nightly programs that offer something for everyone of all statuses. The free summer youth programs, which teach children and teens different types of dances, such as cumbia, salsa, polka and tango, has brought in parents and students from a wide span of Austin.

"We have neighbors from down the street. We have people that come from 360," Caivano said.

Karly Brown, a member and a volunteer for Esquina Tango, noticed the diversity within the organization from what she's seen in some of her dance classes.

"It's very interesting to me because it really fills the generation gap. I danced with an 80-year-old man," Branch said.

Esquina's programs run for little to no cost or by donations. However, if prices are discouraging, one can volunteer their time helping with events or in the office in exchange for dance lessons.

Caivano and Simplis also rely on grants and membership fees to help cover the costs that is required for the programs to function.

"We try to keep it small. We try to keep it like a cultural center," Simplis said. "Our classes and events depend on what the people need."

Keep up with Esquina Tango events on Do512 and their official website.

Taco Journalism seeks only one thing: to find the best taco ever made.

A blog dedicated to reviewing taco eateries throughout Austin and different parts of the country, Taco Journalism has been chronicling this epic quest since 2006. The blog and its taco reviews have garnered attention not just locally, but most recently from major outlets like The New York Times.

We sat down for tacos with members of the blog last year in this video. Now, the taco journalists have an iPhone app to help you find the best-rated tacos in town, as well as taco spots near your neighborhood. You can get the iTacos app here.

“We use a lot of social media like Facebook and Twitter, so we thought it would make sense if we got an app,” said Armando Rayo of Taco Journalism. “We’ve had more than a thousand downloads of the app.”

The group of taco-reviewing bloggers is composed of Rayo, Jarod Neece, Justin Bankston and Gordon Murphy, who go by their alter egos El Mundo de Mando, Jarod, Cornbiter Deluxe and The Commish, respectively. Alexandra Landeros, known as Undercover Mexican Girl, is the most recent addition to the Taco Journalism family.

Rayo, the unofficial spokesman for Taco Journalism, recently sat down with Austin Vida for some aguas frescas and a few plates of tacos at El Taquito on the East Side. Rayo, who is the vice president of engagement at Cultural Strategies, says his moonlighting gig as a taco journalist started thanks to friend and former Austinist Food Editor Sam Armstrong.

“One day Sam asked me to send him my top five taco places in town,” Rayo said. “I wrote it up in my own way and told him why I thought they were good. His article ended up getting a lot of traffic.”

Taco Journalism was born. Though Armstrong is no longer affiliated with the site, Rayo, who grew up in El Paso, took over along with his taco-loving cohorts. Rayo’s passion for the Mexican dish shines through his posts which are flavored with his mix of Spanglish and careful attention to salsa heat and tortillas.

“In our writeups and reviews, we take everything into account—the feel of the place, customer service and of course the tacos,” he said. “We have fun with it though. It’s a hobby for us. We don’t make money of it.”

And that’s what makes Taco Journalism unique. They’re not afraid to say when a taco eatery is not so amazing.

“If we give a place a negative review, they tend to invite us back and we try to keep an open mind,” Rayo said. “We know some places have off-days and we try to be fair. However, we won’t change a review.”

Rayo says everyone at Taco Journalism has a different perspective on what makes a good taco. Readers often suggest new places for them to review and are also the first to comment when they agree or disagree with the bloggers’ evaluations. Regardless of opinion, Rayo said the best part about the blog is being able to interact with readers.

“We’ve done East Austin taco bike tours and we even had a taco tweet-up during SXSW this year,” Rayo said. “It’s about connecting with fans online and offline.”