Cuccinelli Owes Me Royalties

Bot too long ago, I wrote a sarcastic parody about the Statue of Liberty, suggesting that it no longer stood for the ideals it once did. I never suspected that one of the members of the White House Theatrical Society, which includes all the “acting” federal officials, would steal my idea without at least attributing the source.

Ken Cuccinelli, Acting Director of US Citizenship and Immigration Services has decided that immigration should only be available to those who can stand “on their own two feet.”

Of course, that was the standard when thousands of black Africans were brought here as slaves.

When the Irish fled starvation and the Jews fled persecution.

Oh, and may I add for the benefit of Mr. Cuccinelli that his ancestors may have arrived during the significant immigration of Italians, who fled their home country because “decades of internal strife had left a legacy of violence, social chaos, and widespread poverty. The peasants in the primarily poor, mostly rural south of Italy and on the island of Sicily had little hope of improving their lot.”

Thank heaven that the people of Guatemala, Venezuela, Syria, aren’t facing such problems.

Ken, you can send my royalty checks to any charity that supports the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, the hungry, the pure of heart, the peacemakers, and those who are persecuted.

 

Turnabout

He’d always hated traveling, but sometimes it was unavoidable. He wasn’t quite certain how he’d managed to be headed away from home this time but chalked it up to getting older. His memory wasn’t quite what it had been–everything about him had diminished with age. Then again, it might have been that bottle of Jack Daniels he vaguely recalled consuming the night before.

Traveling in America was bad enough with the TSA security screening, but many other countries were worse. They did all of the TSA things, and then insisted on conducting interviews with each. and. every. traveler.

So here he was, standing in line, with some old guy (well, older than him, anyway) behind a podium, waiting to be interviewed. The line snaked forward until it was his turn. The old man looked down a list.

“Ah! Here we go. Would you please state your occupation?”

“Damned bureaucrats,” he thought, “always poking their nose into other people’s business.” Then he said, “I work for Homeland Defense, protecting America’s borders.”

“Ahhh,” commented the man behind the podium. “What’s your position on immigrants?”

“If they are legal, educated, employable, and speak English, I can tolerate them,” he replied, surprised that he was so blatantly candid.

“And if they’re seeking refuge from dangers?”

He looked for an ID card or at least a badge so he could complain about this jerk, but all he had was one of those stupid stick on “Hello my name is” labels with Rock written in sharpie. He realized that the man was waiting.

“If they don’t have a visa, they’re not allowed in. That’s the law.”

“What about natural born citizens?” the man behind the podium asked.

“No problem.” he replied, “If they have proof of citizenship, we let them right in.”

“But not the refugees?”

“Right. The law is the law.” He smiled inside, proud of himself for sticking to his values.

“Tell me,” the man behind the podium asked, “were you born here?”

“No,” he replied, irritated at Rock’s stupidity. “I was born in America.”

“So you’re not a natural-born citizen here” Rock replied.

“Of course not” he responded. This guy was a real idiot. The man behind the podium put his finger on a button that was visible on the top of the podium. “Since you are not a citizen here and since you have not completed the immigration process, I cannot let you enter.”

“Where am I going?”

“Some call it limbo, others call it purgatory. You can call it whatever you like.

“Once you complete your application and submit it through proper channels, we should get around to it in an eon or so. Next!” he pushed the button. A trap door opened and the man began to fall.

The Border

Death–at least for me–has its privileges. Because I’m dead, I now have a ringside seat from which to observe humanity’s foibles.

I love watching so-called leaders. Actually I don’t but after a millennia or two one learns to laugh rather than cry. I’ve seen them all–every Caesar, Charlemagne, Genghis Khan, Napoleon, Hitler, and so on, etc., etc., etc.

Leaders come. Leaders go. Each leader has some grand plan. They always offer a simplistic fix to a complex problem that sounds great but never works.

I’m used to lying, stealing, cheating, bribery, graft, and corruption. They haven’t caught my attention for centuries. However, in your world, the idea of some poor schmuck and their family crossing the border into your so-called “civilized” countries is something else. This throws supposedly modern, 21st century, educated people into a phenomenal panic!

Remember the last sabbath you celebrated? The God you worshipped then also left you with these:

Exodus 22:21 “Do not mistreat or oppress a foreigner, for you were foreigners in Egypt.”

Deuteronomy 10:19 “And you are to love those who are foreigners, for you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt.”