What the gringo wants to know
Some people seriously do believe that questions can be evil. That certain requests for information are inherently offensive, and that it, the impulse behind it, and by extension, the person who dared utter it, should be smushed into a gloppy slush beneath your heel. (Think back: there is a question that you've been asked that you've considered to be gross -- where you're from, how much money you make, why your god is yucky, or what you do in bed.)
It's fine to gently refuse to answer a question, but I don't believe anyone should be blasted for asking. Surely silent ignorance is worse for the future of the world than is the asking of a stupid question. And I'm inclined to answer questions (unless it's about sex, where I tell'em to rent a movie; no more close-my-eyes-and-think-of-England for me). One moment of annoyance for me, balanced by the possibility of opening someone's eyes, even if only by the barest squint.
That's why I love
"Ask a Mexican."