Wednesday, April 28, 2010

let's talk about the illegals a minute

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arizona has certainly stirred up a shitstorm with its new anti-illegal immigrant legislation, and i'm finding it fascinating watching as the holier-than-thou backlash builds.

as a middle-class california taxpayer who has watched as the the flood of unchecked immigration from mexico and central america has immeasurably diminished the quality of virtually every aspect of life in my adopted state over the last 20 years, i have a definite opinion on the subject.

but before i go any further, i should acknowledge that i am often accused of hypocrisy on this issue--an accusation i can't really deny.

consider:

  • i think american companies who who hire illegals should be prosecuted, yet i personally have employed more than a few.

  • i've met many honest, hard-working illegals who subsequently became my friends.

  • i've watched as illegal immigration has reduced the once-greatest public school system in america to mississippi standards, while at the same time volunteering to tutor their kids.

  • i was thrilled last year when the exodus of illegals from california finally started--until i realized all the young, cute ones were leaving first.

i.e., as in so many other areas of my life, i'm a conflicted soul of the first order.

but, you know what?  whenever i manage to put my own personal emotions aside and concentrate on the cold, hard facts, all becomes clear:  illegal immigration is killing the southwestern united states.

consider:

  • in the last 20 years, hundreds of thousands of solid, southern-california middle-class [and often, union] jobs in the janitorial, trucking, construction and food-service industries have devolved into minimum-wage shitwork, thanks to a flood of third-world immigrants happily willing to do the same jobs for next to nothing [and, btw, into whose pocket do you liberal do-gooders think all the money saved from those reduced wages actually went?].

  • it isn't, as george bush once famously said, that illegals come here to do the work "americans aren't willing to do"; it's more like americans aren't willing to do that work  for five dollars an hour--and therein lies the crux of the problem.

  • crime, border violence and kidnapping [i.e., the spillover from mexico] have increased exponentially in arizona over the last 10 years.

  • the heritage foundation conservatively figured a couple years ago that, for every $9,000 in tax revenue the average low-skilled illegal-immigrant family in america contributes [and they even included lottery-ticket purchases to get that total], said family consumes $32,000 in tax credits and social services--i.e., a $23,000-per-family deficit.


now, factor in all of the above and then multiply $23,000 x 125,000 illegal-immigrant families [i.e., 7.5% of the families] in cash-strapped arizona.  and, once you've done the math from whatever non-arizona state you live in and figured your own yearly hypothetical risk and personal tax burden to cover same and then imagined what it would feel like to cough that much up each year in addition to whatever you're paying in taxes now, then feel free to sit back and judge the taxpaying citizens of arizona.

*     *     *     *     *

do i personally think arizona's gone too far?

yeah, i do--they've suddenly made fully a third of their legal citizens brown-skinned targets for police-state excess, and i can't imagine anything more un-american than that.

do i understand why they did it?

yeah, i do--arizona has been compelled to do what it did because the federal government refuses to do what it was sworn to do; i.e, uphold the law and protect the sovereign borders of the united states of america.

do i see an easy resolution to the problem?

no, i don't--each political party is encouraging illegal immigration for its own misguided purposes, none of which have anything to do with what's in the best interests of the united states of america.

what's next?

who knows?  i personally am hoping texas and new mexico [fuck california--it's a lost cause] will join with arizona in order to force the federal government to do right by its citizens, but i'm not gonna hold my breath.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

a further meditation on the transitory nature of gratitude

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understand:  shit like this almost never happens to me.


and not because of luck or any other such random nonsense--no, it's because, of the very few hard-and-fast rules which populate the sloppy, haphazard landscape of the life of mkf, there are two that are almost never broken; namely,

  1. always fly nonstop; and

  2. never check anything.

of course, when one vacillates until the very last minute, certain concessions to reality must sometimes be made--this time, it was rule no. 1 that got shitcanned.

*      *      *      *      *

on the way to tulsa international in my little rental hyundai with plenty of time to spare, i hear the ping on my iphone--i glance down and see it's a travel alert from orbitz:  one of my two flights home is gonna be 30 minutes late.

fuck.  i naturally pray to god for it to be the denver-LAX leg, but no--that would be too easy, right?

after enduring the inevitable pat-down at security [forget even once to remove that little 2-inch swiss army knife from your keychain?  trust me, you'll be on the list forever] i sit at the gate, read my ten-dollar paperback and mentally will the plane in early, because god knows i don't wanna spend the night in fuckin' denver.

but sure as shit, and as inevitably as night follows day, what i knew would happen, happens: the 30-minute delay to denver turns into 45 minutes.

which will leave me with exactly zero minutes to make my connecting flight to los angeles.

once we finally board, i white-knuckle it all the way, praying to a god in which i don't believe that He in His wisdom will somehow bend space and time in such a way as to allow me to make my connecting flight home.

as we make our final approach into denver, we're told (a) how sincerely sorry united is for being late; (b) we'll be berthing at gate B95; and (c) that almost all connecting flights [to shitholes like laramie, des moines, boise and topeka] will be leaving from gates immediately surrounding the one we'll be pulling into.

los angeles, on the other hand? um, that'll be gate B25.

[seventy gates away, in case you're bad at math]

once we land, and even though i know it's a lost cause, i make the effort anyway, praying once again to a lost god that he'll hold the plane for me--i run like i haven't run in years.

please god--i'll never ask for anything ever again.

i round that last corner dry-mouthed, rubber-legged, hyperventilating and outta breath, seeing the abandoned gate and expecting a closed door.

but, no--the ticket agent's there, hand out, waiting for me with an expectant smile:  "mr. f?  thanks for getting here so fast!"

holy shit--they held the plane for me.

thank you, jesus.

i walk down the empty jetway and onto the plane--everybody's seated and watching me, resentful of my imposition upon their time [i.e., welcome back to LA].  i head back to my approximate area--there's no clear space in the overheads for my roll-on, so i start reshuffling other peoples' lesser shit to other bins in order to make room for mine, oblivious of their protesting gasps.

when i'm done, i find my seat--34F [because i'd also ended up violating mkf rule no. 3: always fly aisle].

the snotty anorexic bottle-blonde in 34D rolls her eyes, sighs, clears all her shit off the empty seats she'd thought were hers and reluctantly pauses in her texting long enough to get up and let me in.

the first time i make her get up and let me out during the flight home is because i honestly need to go to the can; the second and third times are purely gratuitous and due to nothing more than (a) my perverse nature, and (b) her being such a fucking cunt the first time.

by the time we're on final approach to LAX, i'm seething with self-righteous anger at the injustice of being seated in a planeful of such assholes.

until i remember my earlier, earnest promises of eternal gratitude, and i start to chuckle to myself.

which noticeably freaks out the blonde to my left.

which, in balance, is fine with me.

thank you, jesus.