Friday, December 13, 2013

Mommagration: When Uncle Sam Brings Home a Baby Burrito (and other Assimilational Deficits)

What do Mork from Ork, E.T. and Juan Fernando the Guadalajaran giraffe wrangler have in common? They are all aliens. Some came from the sky in the predecessor to a Denny’s three egg extravaganza. E.T. got Joe Dirt’d by his family. And Juan Fernando? Well, he jumped a fence somewhere along the way.

In America today, there are almost 12 million illegal immigrants. According to, an immigration reform website, illegal immigration costs the U.S. $113 billion per year. Over $50 billion of that is the cost of educating the children of illegal immigrants. But we can’t ask them to speak English?

Let’s stop right there for a second. Our infinitely wise government made the allowance 
which consequently gave birth to anchor babies sans the epidural. (I just love this drawing!)

Yep. If you break the law and come here illegally, we will gladly give your kid a free ride indefinitely. Are you kidding me?!

So, you mean to tell me that wherever you happen to drop a baby is where it gets a free ride?

 If that’s the case, we’re gonna have at least three more kids…one in Disney World, one in a Ford-Lincoln dealership, and one in the Outback Steakhouse.

Now before you go yankin’ my love-for-all-mankind card, hear me out.


If they want to be here, fine! We will gladly bend them over a barrel for their tax dollars, too.

It just don’t make sense that we’ll give you free medicine, free food, and a free cell phone, but we will NOT take your tax dollars. Seriously?

If they want to be citizens, come on over! We’ll fix the world’s biggest burrito bar and hang the biggest dad gum Uncle Sam piƱata you’ve ever seen to commemorate the occasion.

Then we’ll lock the gate behind them ‘cuz the first time they do their taxes, they’ll be working their fence climbing skills to sneak back into Mexico. You’ll think it’s a deacon from Westboro Baptist trying to escape an evening with Elton John.

But, by all means, make them citizens. Let them enjoy the wonderful things this country has to offer…at the expense of 30+ percent of their income. At least they’re paying for their own benefits then!

I have no problem with people from other countries…unless they can’t drive or they’re rude. And even then, it ain’t because of where they’re from. It’s because they’re rude.

I don’t care if it’s their home land’s policy to block the whole aisle in the store while looking for organic squid dandruff. You’re here now, so you need to learn some manners. Rude Americans, you need to turn your eco-cycle butts back north, too, ‘cuz lots of y’all have brought your rude, unfriendly ways down here and you’re tainting our water.

It’s hard to smile and bless somebody’s heart when they’ve run over two of my kids, cut me off for a parking place, and cooked my  cat….since yesterday.

I try not to be racist, y’all, but when some four foot nothing, 80 pound monster runs over my ankles with her 2-ton buggy of bok choy and glares at me (at least I think she was glaring) as she speeds by, I just want to throw Chinese pepper flakes in her eyes and yell “Ching chong potato, you bamboo-smoking wench!”

(For the record, I wasn’t sure what spicy Asian thing to reference there, so I googled “spicy Asian.” Y’all, do NOT do that. Father, forgive me. It was an accident, but I need you to perform a miracle and gimme a little skoosh of amnesia or I’ll never see General Tso the same way again.)

I think it was the late, great Harvey Korman that said “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” He was onto something.

You wouldn’t go into a monastery and start faking Tourette’s again. You wouldn’t go into a church and start singing “The Beautiful People” by Marilyn Manson. You wouldn’t go to Captain D’s to preach about the inhumanity of fishing from the front counter. You wouldn’t go to McDonald’s and warn others about the evils of eating chicken. Oh, wait a minute….

But respect the culture of where you’re going…even in the US.

Down here, we help people. We speak to people when we walk by. We make eye contact.

But when it comes to asking our opinions, you better watch it ‘cuz there’s two schools of thought on this subject.

One bunch of us will roll out and deep-fry the truth so that we can sugar it up and call it a Krispy Kreme. We’ll tell you a bit of the truth, but we won’t tell it all because we’re not always good at using our gentle words. This is a skill that takes a while to learn, and kids don’t have it. At least mine don’t.

A few examples…

“I like big houses, our big pool, daddy’s big truck….I like big things. I LOVE you, momma!”

“Momma, I love your big belly ‘cuz it’s soft and squishy like daddy’s.”

“Momma, how do you have so much gray hair…” (pause for moment of realization)… “when you don’t look a day over 21?”  Okay, A for effort….at least he put some tasty lotion on that foot in his mouth.

But then there’s the other school of thought:  unfiltered. If you could were to marinate a pack of filterless, menthols in a 40-oz. slurpee jug of espresso and then pack ‘em in like the biggest chaw of Red Man you’ve ever seen, you’d have the potency of these Shakespearean sociopaths.

If you don’t want their whole, unrestrained, free-range opinion, don’t ask them. But if you wanna laugh, go find one and hang on.

These are the unitoothed, trailer-dwelling tornado wranglers that become local celebrities every Spring.

Jim Cantore comes squealin’ into town in his black tee, and sticks his mike in the face of the first redneck he sees.

“Things are indeed a mess here in Holly Springs. Multiple trees down, massive power outages, and a missing train depot…destruction running amuck. People are wandering up and down Highway 5 like a scene from the Walking Dead.

“Here we have Randy Possumtrot, who is a third generation resident of the Little River mobile home park. Randy, how did you feel when you saw the destruction of this tornadic system?”

“Do what? Are you thick or somethin’? How the heck you thank I felt? I lost my best coon dawg. The neighbor’s trailer is straddlin’ my El Camino, and we still can’t find Granny’s Hoveround. Wait a….dad gum it, has anybody seen granny? Jesus H. Christ…it’s like losin' the Bear all over again. All you dumb sumbitches care about is getting’ yer pictures fer yer fancy tv show, and they ain’t a one of us even GOT cable tv. How do I know you ain’t some Communist pedophile trying to tape me for some kinky video? I know about people like you. You’re on the intranet, ain’t you? Get outta here for I blow you to pieces, purty boy.”

If you’ve ever wondered why Jim Cantore doesn’t cover tornadoes, now you know. His assimilation skills leave a lot to be desired. Bless his heart. 

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