Well, it appears that the millions of hop-scotching flag-waving and dancing illegal immigrants had a rather nice field day Monday, with Mexican flags and picnics, when they skipped work, stalled traffic and pulled the cameras' acute eyes away from the all too identifiable and deeply brooding miens of New York's senior trust buster and Massachusetts' junior rat terrier and prolific Blistex user.
a few thousand even got the chance to turn Bill Richardson's carefully crafted shadow boxing antics into a real form of a major Duke-city send up with the police in Santa ana, California, when riot attired cops battled with the peaceful all demanding aliens for control of the streets and safe houses in a CS gaseous atmosphere, said to resemble that of a cold Titan or a hot Los angeles at rush hour.
While their overall goal of instantaneous citizenship, violent felons and all, is still up in the air, it also appears that the US Senate and its rough hewn tough talking stalwarts--those hard nosed defenders of our way of life like Ted Kennedy and arlen Specter--have been seen piling Tempurpedic mattresses by the hundreds on the pavement to cushion the expected landing.
and what a landing it is.
You don't need flares for an emergency landing here. No May Days broadcast en espanol. No cries for help.
america is the land of plenty.
The borders are a joke.
Coming to the big supermarket, to Mexico irredenta, is an excellent adventure. The rewards are huge, while the drawbacks are few, indeed.
as millions of willing mendicants continue to swarm across the border, the unmitigated fear they inject into a cowardly Congress grows.
and with the fear, the immense size of the ballooning sell-out inflates astronomically, with the Constitution routinely trampled, its oath abrogated at the drop of a peso, the auction price for the votes of the miscreants in a cyclonic downward spiral, hawked by our finest senators in their gaudiest robes of office, done while forgoing the slightest concern about our history and their constituents, and all done with Spanish subtitles.
How much is that sell-out in the window?
Even Condoleezza Rice now explains that an alternative national anthem is way cool and just part of our doing business in the new 21st century.
Meanwhile, all of us, the average Joes, the X's and Y's in the nation's grand equation, the people who supply the money tree from which the senate assembles this elegant gravy train and lays its tracks, are stuck here. We cannot protest this madness and we have nowhere to go.
Yet, as the numbers actually paying the income tax approaches the magic 50%, with the other half not contributing a cent to it, the chances of our cries being heard diminish with the arrival of every alien, the subtraction of every taxpayer, and with the addition of each new plug in the ear of every senator in Washington.
I never thought that as a taxpaying american citizen, my voice, and the voices of millions like me, would count for nada. That our objections would be trumped by the angry voices and seditious slogans of riotous malingerers from a foreign country, with loyalties to another government and an alien language.
Just as I could never have imagined, in my wildest nightmares, that our governmental leadership, sworn to uphold our Constitution and our way of life, would cower before a lawless band of bandicoots, out of raw political expediency, and then ask us to foot the bill for their easement and our destruction.
We cannot leave this country with the same calm consideration and poetic ease as the harbingers from the south sashay into ours.
No other country offers us a similar gravy train of endless easy governmental riches on the flip side.
We have become Ted, arlen's and our leadership's excellent adventure and we will be ordered to pay for our final denouement, while they laugh at our misfortunes and sing the preposterous alien lyrics to our anthem from the safety of their many mansions.
Si se puedes, indeed.
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