Stop everything! Seriously! Stop everything and shut the fuck up and read this! Well, actually the headline pretty much sums up everything. Okay, details: Mercadito Hispano, in what is literally the wrong side of the tracks in a small town in Kentucky, has the best burritos outside of California. This is a fact. I just typed it. It is a dumpy little place that is a split Mexican convenience store that blares mariachi music. Pure signs of awesomeness. The place was probably a fast food joint at one point, but the important part was the burrito was the shit of angels. It was like a haven for Latinos escaping the tyranny of Arpaio and Brewer of Arizona only to produce the greatest miracles of our time. This should be in the bible. Carne asada with rice, beans, and what I could only assume was cheese. It was a magnificent melting mess. Simple, yet beyond beautiful. All of you, get on flights to Kentucky. Go to Bowling Green. Cross the train tracks against all your better judgment and venture to the dark side. There are Mexican angels outside of California. And they reside at Mercadito Hispano, which I can only assume is Spanish for Hispanic angel shit.