Borrowed computer. My girlfriend’s mom’s dell. I’m driving a borrowed car. Renting a hovel. In debt. I own nothing.
Tried to get the internet at my house today. It’s a fiber optics package. Supposed to be faster than cable. The guy from at&t came by and told me he can’t install whatever magic box or radiating ether pole I need to absorb internet rays because my human rights violation of a home is right next to my neighbor’s house, and my neighbor’s house is blocking the space where the tech guy needs to work.
So now I need to talk to my neighbor and ask him if a strange man from at&t can put a mysterious device in his backyard. I’ve talked to my neighbor once and I didn’t understand a word he said. He’s mexican and when he spoke to me I couldn’t tell if he was speaking english or spanish or something else. I nodded and said okay every few words.
The cellar beneath my house is right out of a Stephan King novel. Yesterday I peered into it. I lifted the rotting wooden lid and felt the souls of the damned rush up and whirl around me. It’s darker and damper than those unexplored caves miles underneath the ocean floor. There are slithering, translucent creatures down there, eyeless from a thousand years of evolution in a dank pit. Asbestos and the bones of murdered indian shopkeepers litter the molded ground.
I bought a humidifier because every morning I’ve been hacking up a pound of phlegm. Fluid fills my lungs and I sneeze out a greenish grey mucous. It violently launches out and stings my arm or hand. Almost burns through whatever it touches like the blood of the xenomorph.
Every two hours or so the humidifier fills up. Probably two liters of water sucked out of the air in my living room. I’m turning into an amphibian. In a year I’ll have gills. But I’m still happy. I’m happy because I’m working and doing my best even though my best isn’t good. I remind myself, many, many times a day that it could be worse.
I don’t have time to edit. I’m writing on a borrowed computer in my cafe and it’s closing soon. So this what I can offer for now. The consolation of working in less than ideal conditions is that I have an excuse for why I’m not as good as I could be.
Trump ended daca and I’m behind. It happened five plus days ago which is equivalent to prehistory. There are already billions of bits of data floating around smothering the subject. Within seconds of the news breaking the tweets and blog posts and status updates and youtube clips splattered all over the walls of the internet. Responses to responses to comments on comments. Stochastic babble.
We don’t have time to think about anything anymore. Thought doesn’t take place in time. We react to the stimulus of our enemy’s every move in the blinding flash of an atomic instant. No one says hey let’s wait and see or hmm I’m not sure what to think about that. We always know exactly how we feel and know exactly why other people are wrong. Here are ten search engine optimized reasons why.
Everything Trump does is always the worst thing that has ever happened in the history of mankind. Progressives believe the past is full of oppression and enslavement and racism but also that an offhand Trump tweet is unprecedentedly repulsive. These are people who dwell on the atrocities and crimes and barbarities of our blood drenched racist history but when a country bloodlessly protects its borders they pass out and shit their pants from shock and rage.
How could we deport 800,000 DREAMERS? That’s what we call them and everything’s in a name. That’s why the left calls people who break the law and cross our border without undergoing the legalization process undocumented immigrants. In reality they’re criminals. You don’t get to decide whether or not the law applies to you or anyone else. You can change a law but the left prefers warping the fabric of reality through renaming and hysterics to soften people up first.
How could anyone deport a dreamer? They’ll hold up a picture of a tearful toltec and talk about his three minimum wage jobs. Say he’s studying to become an aerospace engineer and that he increases our country’s gdp so what’s your problem, bigot? Don’t you want to a more powerful economy?
The economic argument is a trap, a distraction. People get bogged down in arguing over whether or not increased immigration benefits or harms the economy when it’s a secondary issue, a debate for nerds. You’re allowed to restrict immigration because you don’t want your country to turn into a different country with an alien people and clashing culture, however rich or poor it may be. Your loyalty should lie with your people and not hinge on which policies and how many migrant workers will net you the biggest pile of baubles and trinkets. Cultural cohesion is much more important than a marginal increase in economic output.
Do you want your neighborhoods to be organically American or do you want to numb yourself to the third world invasion of your homeland with gadgets marketed to you by people who hate you and want you dead? Do you prefer gorging on tacos and streaming entertainment to preventing your families and communities from disintegrating?
There’s nothing shameful about wanting aesthetic continuity in your society and in your offspring. It’s not noble and enlightened to deny the tension and discord of ethnic and religious diversity. And having children who look like you and will carry on your ways is a fundamental, ineradicable drive. Disowning yourself and your legacy isn’t moral, it’s cowardly and feeble.
Don’t twist yourself into a knot justifying your natural, healthy aversion to getting swamped by grubby, stubby foreigners. Is it better or worse for the economy to open the immigration floodgates? Who cares. Some libertarian bugman on a sinecure will always be able to cook the books and make unfettered immigration look like an economic boon. So what. The battle should be fought on other grounds. If you argue that immigration is bad for the economy they’ll call you a racist anyway.
Of course I want more people around who I can’t understand, who look on me with indifference, suspicion or hostility. I love discontinuity and ugliness and pretending we can make up for the lack of a shared past with platitudes and facebook posts. Overpopulation and overcrowding don’t bother me. We can always build more mud huts.
But immigrants do hurt our economy, so contrary to the longings of my heart we’ll have to limit them. I have no sense of belonging to a particular place or people but I do want more money and toys. If you can definitively show me that immigrants will give me more shiny things then I’ll have no problem with them.
People act as though America never accomplished anything without indian tech coolie labor or squat mestizos washing dishes in diners when it was Americans who built and fought for the country that became the envy of the world. I don’t recall migrant mexicans freezing their feet off at valley forge, writing and signing the declaration of independence, drafting the constitution, winning the war of 1812, ending slavery or defeating the nazis and imperial japan in world war 2. As far as I know hondurans haven’t been at the forefront of the technological, political and medical innovations of the modern era.
But now that hundreds of years of toil and sacrifice are behind us, America is a land of opportunity for everyone but actual Americans. Every alien tongued, unscrupulous opportunist is given a gushing invitation to come and skim some wealth off the top of centuries of achievement while our native stock is ridiculed, threatened and displaced.
Always pushing the human interest angle, (because they have nothing else) the left loves to point to a besmirched brown face or a refugee’s body bloating on the shore rather than come up with a decent argument. When you oppose them they chide you for your heartlessness and cruelty, which is always, each time, unlike anything they’ve ever seen. Those children, those dreamers didn’t do anything, it’s not their fault. They have no home.
Yes, the dreamers were children when their parents broke the law. They didn’t choose their lot. But here I’m reminded of a concept as old as it is pertinent to this situation: the sins of the fathers are visited upon their children.
Our actions don’t just affect ourselves; they redound on our loved ones, they structure the course of our descendants. And that should be a serious disincentive. The parents who broke the law foolishly jeopardized their children’s future on a gamble that the country they invaded would repay their transgressions by pampering their progeny. And for a brief, glimmering moment, that risk seemed to pay off.
Not anymore. When justice comes to its senses, it strikes the senseless as cruelty.