Marry me, Ann Coulter!

Although it might be indicative of a mental disorder, there are few things in life as viscerally satisfying as reducing technology gone awry to little plastic splinters. This was the fate of an uncooperative computer mouse over the weekend.

It’s regarded as socially unacceptable to trash things these days. It’s not something we encourage our children to do. The one exception to this is Democrats trashing those who disagree with them, but even that is carried out under the aegis of civilized social discourse, and is a subject for another day.

Sitting at one’s desk, pounding an inanimate object to pulp, is regarded as certifiably insane behavior. Forget the admixture of frustrations with people like the ACLU and the banal idiots who turned up at Donald Rumsfeld’s front door. I don’t much care for John McCain, but the man is a genuine American hero. He should not have been heckled while giving a commencement speech to the ungrateful, clueless vermin graduating from “The New School.” Condoleeza Rice is the Secretary of State, and should be accorded the dignity and respect of that office at Boston College. The current generation of vipers might think it’s “cool” that a slimeball like Henry Rollins says he’d vote for Dr. Rice because he’d “like to see a lesbian, black president”; I’m not getting the joke, and my mouse pays the price.

So, a computer mouse got smashed. This obviously put HAL-9000 out of service for the balance of the weekend. Sheepish, penitent phone calls produced promises of quick delivery of a replacement, but it wasn’t going happen on a Sunday. The best alternative was to settle in with a couple of Ann Coulter books: Slander…Liberal Lies About the American Right; and How to Talk to a Liberal…If You Must.

The cheap thrill of thoughtlessly trashing computer components was quickly replaced by admiration for the acuity of Ms. Coulter’s observations. I want to marry Ann Coulter! Not so much because she’s a strikingly good-looking woman, but more so for the conversations that might ensue at The Possum Den. I realize pursuit of this notion makes me as looney as Dan Brown on LSD, but I’d risk a third trip to the altar for a chance to converse with this brilliant woman. Ms. Coulter is way too hip and urbane for an unsophisticated redneck from the backwoods of Deliverance country, but my admiration for her lack of patience with the loons of The Left knows no bounds. Looking up from every other paragraph in her books, I found myself muttering “Gee! I wish I’d said that!” or just nodding in silent agreement.

Ayn Rand codified the principles of Libertarianism. Ann Coulter has done the same for the principles of conservatism. Just as Rand explained there is nothing to be ashamed of in acknowledging the existence of the ego, Coulter removes all sheepishness from conservatism.

Seems like we need intelligent women to explain things to us.

Ironically, and apropos of nothing at all, Ayn Rand was a chain-smoker, and I recall reading somewhere that Ms. Coulter shares this affinity for tobacco. You just gotta love a tough-talking, light ‘em up, in-your-face woman, especially when they can shade you at least 100 points on the IQ scale.

Marry me, Miss Ann! I promise not to murder any more computer mice!

Political suicide

President Bush gave a speech the other day; Monday, 15 May 2006. It was a lovely speech, very elegant, and probably had great appeal to those who take politicians at face value.

It was also a transparent political ploy to raise approval ratings, a cynical manipulation of a hot-button issue, and re-stated two of the lies that have been aggravating me to no end.

Don’t get me wrong. I like George W. Bush. He is a good man. He means well. He has the best interests of America foremost in his heart and mind.

Unfortunately, I can say the same things about Jimmy Carter, arguably the worst president in recent history. My homeboy, Mr. Peanut, also meant well. He just didn’t have a clue. He never met a dictator he didn’t like, including Uncle Fidel Castro.

I’d like to know what diabolical hold Vicente Fox has upon Mr. Bush. If I wrote those bodice-ripping novels of intrigue, I’d postulate an out-of-wedlock daughter living somewhere in the Guatajuano region of Mexico. That’s absurd, of course, but no more so than the Da Vinci “code”.

As a nation of immigrants, with a checkered past of how we dealt with the aborigines who inhabited this land before us, we are walking a tightrope today. Ronald Reagan, who surpasses the legendary FDR in greatness, made a misstep in 1986, when he signed off on the Simpson-Mazzoli bill granting amnesty to 3,000,000 illegal aliens. That bill was touted as a one-up measure to deal with an increasing problem, since it was deemed impractical to deport 3,000,000 illegal foreigners.

That brings us to the first lie in Mr. Bush’s speech the other night. It appears to be rote, common knowledge that institutional America cannot apprehend and deport the 11,000,000 aliens who have sneaked into the country since that 1986 amnesty.

This is nonsense. I am going to wade deeply into trouble here. For all of the evil they perpetrated, the Nazis of the 1930s and -40s showed us that mass deportations are practicable. They had fewer resources and technology, but they managed to uproot and relocate millions of people.

Don’t misread this. I am not advocating a “Final Solution” of any sort. No one should be exterminated, incarcerated, or even criminalized. They should, however, be deported. I acknowledge Mr. Bush’s assertion that most illegal immigrants are decent people seeking a better life. There are also drug smugglers and potential terrorists among those hordes who are running our borders with impunity. I don’t worry about the drugs; that’s a free market enterprise based upon supply and demand. People will do what pleases them, and drug consumption pleases them. What scares me is the possibility that Juan or Abu might have their sweaty hands on a nuclear ADM [Atomic Demolition Munition…a.k.a. “backpack nuke”] and be on their merry way to a major urban area.

For this reason alone, the border must be closed. Both borders; the Canadians are sitting on their socialist hands and doing nothing except criticize George Bush as “a chimp” while they open their doors to foreigners of questionable motives and allow the Great White North to be overrun. Canada was a major staging area for violations of the Volstead prohibition act of the early 20th century; there is no precedent for their allowance of nuclear terrorism. It’s a fine academic exercise to desire a comeuppance to the upstarts to the south; it’s another six-pack of possums when downtown Seattle or Boise disappears under a mushroom cloud. A nuclear incident outside the corporate offices of Microsoft could definitely change the world. [Among other things, I wouldn’t receive my automatic updates and patches for the XP virus that powers this mess.]

The real threat is from the south, however. I have used the phrase reconquista in the past. It’s a simple term; the re-conquest of occupied lands. The Mexicans, who were in their turn brutally suppressed by the now-irrelevant French, are ticked off that they lost vast portions of North America to the predations of gringos with better guns and faster horses. Those portions of land along the southern border that they gave up in the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries are now being reoccupied by the army of reconquista. They are feeling their strength, so to speak, and they are now marching in the streets to demand that bad behavior be rewarded. Breaking the law is not good behavior, and should never be rewarded. What part of “illegal” is misunderstood here? There is no “right” to immigrate; only the endless frustrations of bureaucracy. Coming to America implies a willingness to live by the laws of the land; if those laws include restrictions on the border, live with it or leave!

Those who make excuses for the flood of illegals crossing our southern border are as cynical as those who hire them.

This brings us to lie #2, and verges on lie #3. First off, if anyone says again that “immigrants” are coming here to “do jobs Americans won’t do”, I’ll start screaming and cussing.

When I was a teenager, back in The Stone Age, I wanted a late-‘60s muscle-car. My dad offered me a matching funds deal, so I had to take a summer job. I went to work in one of the local chicken plants. My first task involved taking a high-pressure steam hose and cleaning out “the blood tunnel”, a stainless steel shaft 6’ tall that ran the length of the craw-pulling line. “If you can do this, you can do any job in the plant,” my foreman told me.

I worked there for two summers, because the pay was reasonable. I got my car, and went back for more money. I did, indeed, do every job in the plant: ice packer, craw-puller, gut-reamer…there’s another name for that job, but not here... I have also worked as a striker in a lumberyard, a dishwasher in a high-volume restaurant, and co-managed an upper-scale restaurant…busboy, waiter, bartender, cook, name it. I lied about my age, and forged documents where they were required. This was, and is, regarded as the cost of doing business. I did my jobs well, as I could not afford close scrutiny. An illegal working with a phony Social Security form has a lot more at stake. They can afford less close scrutiny.

Don’t tell me there are “jobs Americans won’t take.” All you have to do is pay them what their labor is worth. This is the crime of those who hire illegal aliens. Those people who come here for a better life than the corruption of Vicente Fox’s Mexico will work harder than anyone else, because they have the futures of their families at stake. They’ll take a job at half the mandated minimum wage, because they want/need to feed their children. If someone is going to be criminalized, it needs to be the bosses.

I visit an outpatient clinic on a bi-weekly basis, because of “health concerns.” This is an excellent place to tap into public opinion. There’s nothing more conducive to conversation with a fellow-sufferer than watching an IV drip. My opinions are not formed solely on the basis of FOX News. Real people tell me fascinating things.

The other day, this week, I met someone who is gambling her health-care co-pays against the equity in her house, which she has to sell to get money to live. She is working for $6.00 an hour against 15 hours per week, hustling pizza. Do the math, and the tax deductions, and she’s living on considerably less than my pick-yer-pocket disability pension. We talked, and she admits she’ll do anything short of prostitution as a job of work.

Don’t tell me there aren’t jobs Americans won’t do!

It’s past time for deeper trouble. Go ahead…make my day. Maybe a reputation as a communist, Nazi bloviator will up my readership of this modest blog. No apologies here. Turn up the heat; I can take it!

The border, especially the southern one, must be closed. Period. Paragraph.

South Africa, pre-Mandela in the days of apartheid, built large fences and laid minefields along their border. The rest of Africa ignored this, and waded through almost certain death every day to reach the one country that was the hope of the continent.

Wading into trouble even deeper, I offer this: the communist template for border control.

Before Ronald Reagan told Mr. Gorbachev to “tear down this wall,” it was quite effective. Only about 100+ people made it across in 60 years of existence. A handful….

Some of the features of that “wall” included pre-sighted, automated machine-guns that fired on tripped sensors. Mines were laid, and those minefields were raked smooth to disclose the footprints of those who dared them. Watch towers were built and manned.

Dead bodies, the corpses of the unlucky, were left to rot in South Africa. They were regarded as a warning to those who attempted to follow. The rest of the continent tried to follow. Many died. Africa is a troubled place.

We should do this in America. Forget “job loss through attrition.” Let’s try “job loss through loss of life.”

I don’t wanna be this way, but if we get called into the street for a walk-down gunfight, there it is…

Mexico is a troubled place. It has been that way for many years. Rushing north will not solve the problem of a lack of effective government in Mexico; if half the people who demand American “rights” for bad behavior took to the streets of Ciudad Mexico then the revolution would be over. However, they will be gunned down by the Mexican army, on orders from the Presidential Palace. America, and its sub-minimum wage, is a better alternative.

That brings me back to who holds a diabolical influence on our president. The people in our outpatient cancer clinic, staunch conservatives all, are against you.

If you want to commit political suicide, I have the ticket. Take the Browning .40 in the picture, hold a mouthful of water, and put a bullet between your teeth. It's a lot easier than the politcal suicide you are contemplating for conservatives of every flavor. Think of the future, Mr. Bush, and the reconquista. Did you drop a zero from that number of National Guardsmen you proposed to deploy the other night?

Kennedys behaving badly

I stole that headline from Rich Galen, who publishes an online newsletter titled "Mullings", and occasionally shows up on FOX News to aggravate Those People with rational arguments. He was on the Patrick Kennedy story when it was being cold-shouldered by the mainstream media.

Gee, I wish I'd said that!

I have a history of DUIs in my past. When I was younger, and more foolish, I had issues that made me think alcoholic beverages contained an answer. All I had to do was climb into extremely fast automobiles and take them to their limits.

To this day, I thank God that this bad karma and misbehavior never tagged me. I wrecked a few cars, but I never injured or killed anyone along that troubled highway I traveled. (No pun intended.) That road was patrolled by a few policemen who were not happy with the way I was behaving. My dumbest move might’ve been during a fit of sobriety, when I took a straight-up bust for scofflaw speeding. The state trooper showed me the LED read-out on the radar gun, and informed me he was going to write me for 105 in a 70 zone. It was 0300, and nobody was crowding my roadway, where I was admittedly breaking the sound barrier.

Stone sober, and knowing I was busted, I asked the trooper if he’d write the ticket for 120 instead of 105. “I’m trying to sell the car” tumbled out of my big mouth.

The trooper wasn’t amused. Neither was the judge. The DA had a hissy fit, and dragged my lawyer into the parking lot to ask him “Why did he bring in a high-powered murder lawyer to handle a traffic ticket?” (The attorney explained the uncomfortable truth; he is a friend who was doing a personal favor, despite the fact that his reputation raises eyebrows. Judges and DAs cringe when he walks into their courtrooms.)

I revealed all that personal information so I can make the following declamation: I am sick and tired of hearing excuses about Kennedys! The elder Kennedy is a murderer; someone died in his car. If I had killed Mary Jo Kopechne under similar circumstances, I’d still be serving time today.

My cadre of DUI lawyers deployed all those tired arguments. “It’s a disease.” “It was the confusion of misunderstood medication.” “He was disoriented.” Even when the judges cut me a rare piece of running room, I could tell they weren’t buying it. Claiming "I don't remember getting up that morning" only makes me more suspect.

Naw. I was hammered. Lawyers do what they’re paid to do. Somebody teased me on my first post about Kennedys behaving badly; something to the effect that I must’ve had a hard time squeezing my tall self into such a cramped car. I levered myself into a number of high-powered cars; a ’63 Ford with a supercharged 429 motor, a ’63 Impala convertible with red leather upholstery and a 400-horse 327, and the legendary Corvette, among others. There was also the ’82 Brat with a Porsche engine. Wheelchair notwithstanding, I believe in moving fast when you have to move.

I never crashed one of these noble vehicles. For sure, nobody ever died as a passenger in one.

Patrick Kennedy now produces an alibi witness. The Corvette, and its Impala predecessor, were babe magnets. Oh, did I mention the '64 Oldsmobile 442 ragtop? Big horsepower with that 400 CID V-8, too, and more red leather upholstery. Had I not been married, I could’ve had all manner of passengers who’d swear in court we were only going 55 in the slow lane. I ain’t buying a pickup alibi at the Hawk ‘n Dove bar. That’s as cute as my remark to the trooper to write me for 120.

Pat Kennedy checked into a treatment center. I don’t want to hear his sniveling excuses; I want him to escape the curse of his clan. I wish him well in that regard, but I don’t want to hear another word about “the curse of addiction.” Face the truth, Patrick. Joe Jr. died in a horrible airplane mishap during War II. He was Ol’ Joe’s choice for the presidency. His death destroyed Ol’ Joe, the bootlegger/rumrunner. Robert was killed by an Islamic terrorist, the people your despised leader George Bush is battling. John was a war hero because he made the idiotic mistake of shutting that PT boat down in the path of a Japanese warship. His efforts to make amends for that mistake were heroic, but still…

Ted is the least of the litter, and can probably blame his "issues" with booze on being the baby brother who never claimed any high expectations. Given the family history, I sometimes wonder if he views his unnaturally long lifespan as a curse or a blessing. I also wonder if he views the life of Mary Jo Kopechne as anything more than a minor legal annoyance that affected his political career.

C’mon, Patrick. I’d change my name if I were you. Ted killed somebody with a car; you’re just dodging a traffic ticket, so far.

And all this comes on a day when Those People are trumpeting their plans for what they’ll do in the wake of achieving victory in the mid-term elections. I have one modest piece of advice: don’t let Pat Kennedy drive any of the float cars in the victory parade.

I am gonna get cussed for this...

I am going to get slammed for this. I am going to be called a Nazi, a Klu Kluxer, and that’s going to be mildest of the epithets.

I am going to assume the absolutely wrong position in modern society. I am a white man who is going to offer commentary on black culture. I am curling up, and assuming the position, for what will follow.

This was not my brightest idea. I don’t like getting slammed, and I particularly loathe the sliming as a racist. However, I grew up as a white boy in The South, and I bear my burden. We didn’t always do the right thing.

Taken to task for not posting more often on my friend's web sites, I stayed awake and entertained my frequent visitor, the Insomnia Monster, at 0400 the other day.

I was rewarded with something called "Soul Plane". The best movies from the Left Coast arrive on my satellite in the wee hours of the morning. Snoop Dogg may have a sense of humor more subtle than mine about the black condition. I am disturbed about the state of black culture. I have common ground with Bill Cosby. When I was just a Southern redneck pup, he tought me how to respect black people, and how to tell a joke without cussing.

I have albums from his early-60s stand-up routines. Since I eschew profanity on this modest blog, I will assure you that he never called anybody “a MF”.

“Soul Plane” had an amusing moment. I can’t remember it. Booty, rap, and cultural values that involve the frequent employment of “MF” are not what my gut Coz would call values. Regardless of color, I hear some kinds of excuse that this is a cultural rebellion against “white” values.

Is there a problem with learning to take care of your children? Balancing that checkbook is a valuable asset, too. They kind of work together, for holding the family together.

Coz is a black guy, and speaks in a clearer voice than I ever will. I have one clean statement to make: something is wrong. I’d like to dodge your politically incorrect bullet, so you decide what the problem is, and get back to me. Meanwhile, I guess the “Soul Plane” flies on.

Kennedys and cars?

Kennedys and cars? Is there a serious statement to be made about this? I see much potential for dark humor about murderers. No one ever died in my plastic car, and I never had an accident that I thought I should run from and re-group.

Those Kennedys have the bucks to hire professional drivers to carry them home from their drunken reveries. I suppose the image of a sober “little person” embarrasses the Usual Suspects. They have "designated rapists" for party times that get out of hand; why can't they find someone to drive them back to the estate, so they don't kill the little people they proclaim such pride in representing?

More stupidity and pampered behavior from the cursed clan of Massachusetts. I paid my speeding tickets in the Corvette, and behaving like a member of Congress would have been laughed out of court.

Where are the orange jumpsuits when they are called for?

Save the last dance

This rocket scientist is slated to make a final public utterance today, 4 May 06. After he hammers the last nail into his 15 minutes of fame, he will depart for that awful underground federal prison in Florence, Colorado. They literally pipe sunlight to the inmates in that facility. Zack will never be heard from again, which is most fitting.

I have never had a problem with the death penalty. My family has been touched by murder. My father was assassinated for the contents of his wallet. The toll on my mother was unspeakable. The killer is still unknown from that day in 1985. I would have no problem if that person sat in Ol’ Sparky; I would save the state a lot of money and time if I knew for a certainty who that person is. I know what The Bible says about vengeance being The Lord’s, but I think He’d understand if I stepped up to the plate this once. It’s a joke, and sometimes a legal defense in the South: “He needed killin’!”

I don’t care what this guy has to say today. His fifteen minutes are up. The people he will pretend to speak for disavow him. The life sentence of a common criminal is most fitting.

The war against terror brings us face-to-jowl against the worst sort of death cultists. Liberals only aspire to such perversion. These people are like space aliens: they worship death as an exaltation of their existence. The highest expression of their miserable lives is the cessation of life. Their highest aspiration is to die in pursuit of some ill-conceived goal. Their thinking is abnormal by human standards.

Whatever Zack was up to, he didn’t get there. He failed as a martyr on 9/11. He is disavowed as a spokesman for Islam post-9/11. His peers consider him a loser nutcase. He doesn’t even cut it as a terrorist.

Nevertheless, he shares a degree of culpability for 9/11. He will not receive any form of glorious martyr’s death, even the humiliation of an infidel plugging in that needle for The Big Shot. Once he hits his cell in Colorado, he will never be heard from again.

This is how it ought to be. Death is expiation to these space aliens, so if we can catch them alive and shame them in the eyes of their god, we have scored a double victory.

God will not fault those jurors for their decision of life over death. I am all for killing bad guys, but not when they ask for it. There are fates worse than death. Ol’ Zack just received one.

The movie “Alien” had a tag-line about screaming in space, and does anyone hear you? Zack can scream to his heart’s content from this point forward. He might manage suicide if that is honorable to his Islamic beliefs. Stick a fork in him; this critter’s done. Allah laughs.

False flags

Si, se puede!

Yes, we can!

We can round up 11,000,000 illegal aliens, put them on ships or into 747s from the bankrupt airlines, and send them back to Mexico, Panama, and Colombia!

The last time America was invaded by a foreign army was in the 1940s, during War II. The Japanese grabbed some of the Aleutian Islands, as part of a feint in the northern Pacific. It’s a forgotten front, but American troops went up there and cleaned house.

Meanwhile, our neighbors to the south have sneaked an army in on us. They have not fired a shot, yet, but they have apparently occupied vast portions of the American southwest, and they are making inroads in major urban areas across our sovereign nation.

I watched the May Day “boycott” with great interest. I have long held a great affection for Hispanic peoples of all national flavors. This affinity is rapidly dissolving into resentment. May Day, the first day of May, has long been the communist/socialist “Labor Day”; a traditional celebration of “the workers.” That was the first PR mistake with this week’s boycott. It also addresses the first lie: that white Americans somehow despise Latinos because of racial differences. The race card has been played early and often in the amnesty debate.

The second mistake was the protesters ignoring their best advice: in spite of the highly-paid PR flacks telling them to leave the Mexican, et. al. flags at home, many of those taking to the streets to demand an imaginary right chose to wave their various national flags instead of the recommended American stars ‘n stripes. The tee-shirts also don't play well in front of the US flag.

This entire issue is fueled by so many lies and false flags that I don’t know where to begin. During the Monday of the protests, a Hispanic activist raised the figure from 11,000,000 to 41,000,000 occupying troops already “boots down” on American soil. The general tone of that person’s argument seemed to be “You can’t send them all back.”

A second lie, and one propounded by my president, George W. Bush [43], is that illegal aliens come here to do jobs “those American workers will not do.” GWB is my president, and while I have stood by him steadfastly on Iraq, and trust him to do the right thing in the future, he is dead wrong on this mojado issue. Before I found my niche, I worked in the chicken processing plants; as a striker in a lumber yard, dishwasher, busboy, sweeping up in general. My first job was $3.00 an hour [a generous wage, well above minimum at the time]. I cleaned the drunken puke of the privileged out of the sinks of pit stops along life’s road. I will not buy the false assertion that “there are some jobs Americans will not do.” Mr. President, you need to get out there and ask real Americans what they won’t do. Part of the American tradition is that we’ll do whatever needs to be done; your daddy knew this, do you?

Sean Hannity posed an excellent rhetorical question Monday night: “If they [illegal aliens] disobeyed the existing laws by coming here illegally, what guarantee do we have that they will obey the new [amnesty] laws?”

The response from one of Those People, a liberal activist, was to shout that earlier American “immigrants” had essentially destroyed the Native Americans, and are currently poisoning the planet by our presence.

That dog don’t hunt. The sins of my ancestors are myriad, by the lights of Those People. My ancestors fought for the Confederacy; before that, they were part of the Western European influx that started the Native American Holocaust. After the War of Northern Aggression, my forebears were among those who finished “taming the Injuns” under the flag of the United States. I’ve run this litany before, but it bears restating here: we also fought for America in the Revolution, the “Civil” War, War I, War II, Korea, Nam, New Europe, and now Iraq. I’ll leave the police actions, and my grandpa’s participation in the Spanish-American conflict, for footnotes.

Despite our brutal, genocidal means of going about it, our immigrant ancestors built this nation. Yes, some of it was built on the backs of slaves. Yes, there were Chinese who got screwed as slave laborers under a euphemism. The seamless, stainless myth of the building of America has long been debunked and exposed. My Irish ancestors were turned away in Yankee land. People still tell Polack jokes today. The only reason we don’t hear Welsh jokes outside of Britain is that they’re such a small ethnic minority. I do not accept the proffered guilt that today’s liberals, radicals, and illegal aliens hand out as rationale for amnesty for lawbreakers. I work in other areas to atone for the sins of my forebears. Two wrongs do not make a right, and I will not support the contentions of lawbreakers.

It was easier to immigrate to America in The Old Days. All you had to do was meet the numerical quota, and pass through Ellis Island, where some harried bureaucrat would probably misspell your name. Earlier, all you had to have was a strong back, and a willingness to challenge and fight those much-maligned Native Americans. Nowadays, the legal immigration process is interminable, and will probably enrich some lawyer along the way. Nevertheless, that’s how it’s done now. Locate anyone who has become a legal citizen since the Reagan amnesty of the 1980s, and that person will probably tell you the proudest day of their lives was when they raised their hand and declared that citizenship oath.

These folks are among those who denounce the lies, false flags, and manufactured “human rights” claims of the illegal amnesty crowd. These good citizens see the signs proclaiming “Your ancestors were immigrants, too!” and think “Yeah…so what?” They stood proudly and honestly at their citizenship ceremonies. Some of them may still be doing the scut work of picking crops or processing chickens, but they do it with the assurance that their hard work and initiative will eventually be equally, honestly rewarded.

Then, there is lie number three: the new legislation will criminalize the innocent. Sorry, gang; you’re already guilty of multiple felonies. This combines with lie #4: the corrupt state of countries in Latin America is driving those people to risk their lives sneaking into America.

A figure often quoted by the amnesty crowd is that 40% of illegal aliens in America are not from Mexico, or indeed, from any Western Hemisphere Hispanic country. An even larger percentage of those unfortunates seek to sneak into corrupt, impoverished Mexico, because even that bastion of institutional corruption is better than the hellhole they’re seeking to escape.

What happens to those who attempt illegal “immigration” into Mexico? They are treated and charged as felons. Women are subjected to rape; their men are robbed, tortured, and imprisoned. Their children are sold into slavery, sexual or otherwise. You do not see those who proclaim “immigration” to be a “human right” protesting these crimes against humanity on the streets of America. You do not see those who wave Mexican flags in LA protesting the government of Vicente Fox’s despotism on the streets of Ciudad Mexico; the Mexican army would be called out to shoot them where they stand.

It’s funny how the political speech for mojados has changed over time. It has progressed from “illegal aliens” to “undocumented workers” to “undocumented immigrants.” Nope. Sorry. Bzz! Wrong answer.

An immigrant comes here and gets documents. A real Social Security card. A legitimate driver’s license, and real insurance on the vehicle being driven. Another lie being shouted is that illegal aliens “also pay taxes.” Yes, when they sign onto a job with a phony SS number, a deduction is made via the perjured W-2 form, and that deduction wanders into the netherworld of a phony, invalid tax account. The lawbreaker will not challenge it; they regard it as the cost of doing their illegal business. That “tax money” is not applied to anything meaningful to support the country that meanwhile gives them countless dollars in medical, educational, and life support.

The answer to this conundrum is not easy. Decent people of all nationalities want to do the right thing as human beings. No one faults anyone for wanting to come to the greatest nation in human history and take advantage of the unprecedented opportunities for self-betterment that are almost inherent here. What raises my blood pressure is that these people are walking into a double-edged trap. If, after paying most of their hard-earned life savings to a coyote [professional border-runner] to get here, they enter the illegal underground and obtain a job at half the minimum wage for citizen-workers in the United States. At risk of arrest and/or deportation for their initial illegal entry, they often operate vehicles without legitimate licenses or liability insurance. This makes them a hazard to every legitimate driver on the road. They cannot purchase medical insurance, so they must depend on the public policy of mercy that governs most hospital admission and treatment.

Do their employers care? Does it matter to them that the people they are so gleefully exploiting are highway hazards and drains upon the overburdened humanitarian infrastructure? I don’t think so. What trumps politics, and makes this a bipartisan issue, is the bottom line: the money.

Those People are always grousing about “McJobs” and the inadequacy of the minimum wage. They accept and promote the lies about “jobs Americans won’t do”. They always support the little guy, until the little guy shows up at the front gate of the estate, asking if the lawn needs mowing. If you have a strong stomach, and need further proof of who is sponsoring the exploitation of illegal aliens in America, go here


I caught this internet address off a sign being flouted behind Geraldo Rivera, a.k.a. “Jerry Rivers” during his early broadcast days, as he reported on the LA protests of Monday, May Day. The sign was professionally printed, and there were a number of them on display in Los Angeles. A visit to the website reveals a leftist political agenda that reeks of exploiting illegal aliens as ruthlessly as the companies that hire them.

I have some proposals. I can’t call them “answers”; because there’s no telling if they’ll work, until they’re tried.

1. Close the borders. This is a sovereign country…a republic; a nation of laws. The law says you shall get into a line, pay your fees, prove yourself by virtue of the dedication of your commitment to this country, and put up with the frustrating, endless BS of the vermin-ridden bureaucracy that governs citizenship. Maybe that set of laws can be streamlined, but they are still laws to be obeyed.

If the borders, both north and south, cannot be closed by conventional or technological means, employ the military. Despite the additional lie that there is not a sufficient military presence because of our deployment in Iraq, and the coming deployment in Iran, there are still plenty of troops available to stand watch on the borders, and render humanitarian aid where necessary.

If the human-based military is inadequate, go ruthless. The East German communists employed automated machine gun nests, watchtowers, and raked minefields that revealed footprints where there wasn’t a decaying corpse to mark the detonated devices. South Africa employed such means, and the rest of the African continent ignored the uncollected [by policy] bodies to seek illegal entry into what was denounced as a pre-Mandela racist dictatorship. Rotting corpses and circling vultures is a brutal message, and will get me denounced by anyone who reads this. I’ve already seen Mexican men, women, and children rotting in the Arizona desert from an aborted border crossing. Maybe a fence, and the threat of mines and pre-sighted weapons, would have deterred them enough to rebel against their treacherous coyote and reconsider their attempt. Decent husbands and fathers would not have allowed their families to go into such assured harm’s way.

Close the borders. Period. Paragraph. Set; match; game. 86. 30. Do it now.

2. Prosecute anyone, big corporation or small business, who hires illegal aliens. They are the ones who are guilty of human rights violations, not those who insist on adherence to established laws. They should be subjected to the most stringent of felony-violation penalties. The peones they exploit for half of minimum wage are victims of their rapacity. The Republicans are wrongfully demonized as “the party of the rich.” This is a non-partisan issue; no one should care whose party card is in the corporate employer’s wallet…he should be busted, and the fullest extent of the law should descend upon his fine personage.

3. One of the trump cards of the new army of the reconquista is “You can’t round us all up and send us all home!”

Rubbish, we can’t! Si, se puede!

Another ignoble moment in American history was our treatment of Japanese-Americans following the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941. It was wrong, horrible, and amends have been officially made. Some of the concentration camps have been preserved as memorials, in the spirit of Auschwitz. Those who are throwing the dark history of America’s shameful moments up as justification for their demands should remember that dark history more precisely: we did it once, and if the backlash continues, it can be done again. 11,000,000 detainees might require a longer logistics train and more humanitarian infrastructure support than previously recorded in American history, but telling Americans “it can’t be done” is like offering a dare.

It can be done, and it should be done. Clint Eastwood, as “The Outlaw Josey Wales”, said it well to Indian chief Ten Bears: “I ain’t promising you nothing extra…I’m giving you life, and you’re giving me life.”

That’s the real lesson of America. Those of us who arrived here a bit earlier are offering life and hope to those trying to join us. We aren’t denying the life and the hope; we’re just trying to form a line.

Note:

I shelved my little commentary on taxes until next April. It might have more impact then. Until then, your assignment, faithful readers, should you decide to accept it, is to explore my contention that taxes are extortion, and they are taken from you at the point of a gun…

If you don't believe this is the case, send the IRS a letter informing them that you aren't going to pay your taxes because of [whatever reason you can invent].

See if men with guns don't show up at your home, and react according to the degree of resistance you present. Ultimate outcomes will not exclude the employment of lethal force in the collection of back taxes.

Try resisting. I dare ya. Try telling a tax collector it's your property.

Meanwhile, let's look at illegal aliens, in the post above: