Don't Fence Me In

BILLINGSGATE JOURNAL (Dateline San Ysidro Border)

BULLETIN: Have you ever considered what event in your past, more than any other, shaped the way you think today? Some of you would probably consider the first time you had sex with a mammal with fewer than four feet on the floor as your defining moment. Those of you wearing turbans might have experienced something even more celestial the first time you locked lips with a camel. Believe me, I would still think highly of you and keep your confidence if either of the above were true. For me, however, it was the first time I tasted a taco that sent me reeling. It was back in the winter of 1962. One of my classmates at college brought some tortillas back from California after Christmas break. We prepared them basically the same as we do today. However, we used Tabasco Sauce instead of salsa to season them. Can't remember how many I wolfed down. Must have been many.

What does this remembrance from the past have to do with our present condition, you might ask. Another way of asking the same question: How many tacos does it take to make you feel compassion for the plight of 12 million illegal immigrants? What I am asking my devoted devotees and fellow far-right conspirators is that until the fence from San Diego to Brownsville, Texas is completed, that you pledge to unconditionally boycott tacos, both foreign and domestic.

If we don't win this war, our grandchildren will be picking strawberries while the Mexicans who were given your house by the Democrats, will be listening to mariachis while sucking down Pacificos and our Social Security system. Senators Boxer and Feinstein will be commuting to Mexico City to cast their votes, and the Smithsonian Museum will be turned into a chicken ranch when they throw all of our Nation's history onto the streets.

BUILD THE FENCE!