That's exactly what it is. I chose to name my business after the Hispanic version of the name Jeffrey, which my Mexican father would sometimes call me when I was a kid.
Luche Libre. Latino connection aside, I believe the Luche ably represents all that a freelancer should be: It's not important for people to know who I am. Only that once I'm in the ring, I kick ass, take names and help agencies and clients be victorious. I just happen to do it with superior writing skills. Hence, the pencil.
Having spent a good chunk of my career in Chicago, like many of my comrades, I've spent a lot of time with packaged goods clients. Unlike many of my comrades, my packaged goods work has been feted at Cannes and The Effies, simultaneously. No small task. Take a good look at the work. You'll see that good thinking is good thinking; whether for sports networks, entertainment, electronics, financial or yes, even packaged goods.
Born in Chicago, I believe there's no greater way to spend a summer day than to heckle my horrible and beloved Cubs from a seat within earshot. No greater way to spend a winter day than on a beach in Mexico. Everyone should listen to more Blues. And eat more tacos al pastor. I'm likely the only NCAA champion you'll ever sit in a meeting with. Billy Wilder was a genius. But in a much different way than Peter Griffin. I make a mean osso buco.
1341 West Pratt Blvd.
Chicago, IL 60626
Al pastor. If you haven\'t had this type of taco, well then, que lastima. Marinated pork, typically smoked, gyro style. Served with pineapple. Cilantro. Onions. And if you\'re lucky, some free flan and a live band afterward. These are my current favorite places for al pastor in Chicago:
Probably a million different recipes. All good. It\'s sort of a Mexican Bloody Mary. But wth beer, not vodka. And if you find yourself sans sombrero on a hot, hot day, it\'s sure to cool your jets.
Stir together kosher salt and chile powder on a plate. Run a lime half around edge of a pint glass, then turn glass over onto plate and rotate to attach salt mixture. Add lime juice, Worcestershire sauce, and hot sauce to glass, then top with beer.
The French have Johnny Hallyday. The Chinese have, yes, look it up: Chelvis. And sorry, Ritchie Valens, the Latinos have Freddy Fender. Here are two of my faves:
When I was eight, I saw James Brown on The TAMI Show and decided I, too, needed a Brand New Bag. So I convinced my parents to buy me a horn and a pair of white Beatle Boots. If I’d only asked them to buy me some musical talent, things might have turned out differently.
Some summers, my brothers and sister and I went spend them in Tampa with Granny and PopPop, my lovely grandparents on my Mom\'s side. For some reason, they dressed us up in sombreros for this photo. It wasn\'t until years later I surmised that maybe, just maybe they were having a bit of fun at my Dad\'s expense.
This is Raul Villarreal. My Dad. Born in Monclova, Coahila in Mexico. Came to the States. Fought in a war. Married the wonderful Constance White. Changed Raul to Paul, Villarreal to Martin. You can ask me why, but I\'ll just look at you with a blank stare. But yes, that would make me Zeferino Villarreal. Easy for you to say.