Immigrant song

I like enchiladas. I’m sorry if you have something against our brown friends from south of the border but honestly, if you think that illegal immigration from Mexico is A: A huge problem, and B: A economical concern then I strongly suggest you listen to what I’m about to say because I like to shock people. Guess what….ITS NEITHER! Hahaha! That’s right. Mexican immigration is about as big of a problem as dental plans in Britain (you know, annoying to some and mildly hazardous if you don’t know how to brush your teeth). See, I’d like to put a few images in your pea-sized ‘neck brain if I may.

This idea that “it’s our land” is absolutely the worst argument I’ve ever heard in my life. Yeah, okay first off we stole this land from THEIR people and secondly I wasn’t aware that you had more right to living in shacks than me. Interestingly enough it’s probably the same people that complain about illegals that hire them. (it’s that whole “If I hate it-maybe people won’t think I enjoy exploiting it thing) Now on to the image of where the illegal alien comes from.

Imagine, if you can, living in a shack made of plywood and rusty nails working in a dry, hot field making roughly 6¢ an hour to help feed your family, while hoping to make it through the week without your wife passing out from heat-exhaustion. You come home to this one-room shack and as you reach for your hazardous water you get a knock at the door. When you open it you see your old friends Joél and Marcus holding automatic weapons asking for your pennies that you have saved away for your children’s schooling (because the government can hardly provide) or they take your wife, rape her and then hold on to her until you can pay them off. You’ve heard of this great land up north called America where you don’t have to worry about these things, but you can’t take your family with you. You travel to this land hoping to be able to make enough money to send to your family so that they can live a better life than you.

See, now that you’re in America you have to find a job. Pretty hard to do when you can’t speak the same language as the commoners. So, you take a job in a field picking blueberries or out in the sun nailing together boards for a foreman that gives you little water and no break. When your day is done you go to sleep in a shack filled with five other families who have it just as bad as you. When you’re paid at the end of the week, you send your money back home to Maria (your daughter) to pay off the Drug lord who’s holding your family for ransom. This continues until a sweaty, bald white man with a goatee shows up to your shack and his buddies brandish their shotguns and force you into a van and ship your ass back to the land of the starvation; home in Mexico. Where the people from the country you want to be in are exploiting the shit out of your land, and Drug lords have taken over the entire boarder area. Life is nice for the Mexican immigrant.

It’s far to easy to be a know-nothing fuckface who thinks that these people are the evil that is rotting our country. On the contrary my pasty friends, you are. See, your conservative buddies in Washington have been exploiting your businesses, using tax breaks to spend on golden toilets and starting wars for profit. They don’t care about you, you think that they’re Christians but in fact (just like your 14-year-old children) they’re the farthest thing from Christians. You have let your greed and arrogance fool you, and those you support are doing the same. Oh, and I suppose I do owe you an apology. It’s not your fault, you’re just doing what you think is right (if by think I mean lack of thought, I’m not saying that I do).

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