Them mushrooms not good for Black folks, too much on the brain plate for that kind of poop.
There is something to that. Half a dozen times I have traveled down to the mushroom capital of the world in Chiapis, Mexico. Waking each morning with aching cheeks and sore torso muscles from laughing so hard the day before.
But you know, even back then as a young man I knew enough not to take the same trips up here in El Norte, well after the carefree days of college anyway.
Tripping around the ruins in the jungles there are no work issues, no finance problems, no cops and no worries. But boy are there the colors! The jungle foliage, the waterfalls, the flowers, the parrots, the fruit, the pastel buildings, the colorful clothes, the chickens, turkeys and pigs on the bus, the strange people from France, those loud guys from Australia, and of course the friendly locals who point and laugh at the silly “gringos de hongos!”
And like blacks here, local Mexicans don’t do them as they interfere with keeping their children alive.