One, Two, Three, Four.
We don’t want this border war!
That was the chant that was being screamed in the streets of downtown Buffalo.
I was meeting a buddy for lunch on Thursday at the Mexican joint where they have big burritos and great hot sauce.
Parking was rough because there were at least a hundred people standing on the corner. I spotted a few signs:
“Close the camps!”
“People are not illegal!”
Not a red hat in the crowd.
I didn’t bother to investigate.
(I had a burrito calling my name).
“What the hell was that about?” I asked.
“A protest,” my buddy said.
We had a casual lunch and I headed back to the car.
The police had shut down Delaware Avenue.
The cops seemed highly annoyed.
“One, Two, Three, Four...we don’t want a border war!”
There was a kid in the center of the circle holding a megaphone.
“Close the camps!” The guy yelled.
It kinda’ fascinated me.
There were young people, old people and people in the middle.
They were angry.
“I didn’t think I’d see this in our country again,” I said.
“Surprised it’s not happening even more,” my buddy said.
We watched the “liberals” make their way in the huge circle.
The division is a living, breathing unit right now.
On Sunday, there will be squads let loose in some of the big cities all across this nation, and people will be rounded up...
...and taken off to camps.
“Illegals.”
And anyone who has read anything I’ve written knows how I might feel about that, and if not, consider a quote that I used to start my book, Desperation.
A book I wrote back in 1987.
“Every creation has a purpose.”
It’s easy to say “Get ‘em all out.”
And the laws of the land certainly need to be followed, but consider this possible scenario.
A man, say from Central America, leaves his worn-torn land with his wife, and he settles in Miami, finds a job, works every day, pays taxes, has a couple of kids, and settles in...
...believing he’s found a life.
Sunday morning, he answers the door, and is pulled from his home, and sent back to a country he hasn’t seen in decades.
Does it matter that he has been a law-abiding, productive member of his community?
I’ll answer that for you:
It doesn’t.
“So what! He should’ve come in the right way!” Someone will argue as the man is separated from his wife and children, maybe forever.
And perhaps that’s true.
But it doesn’t mean that my heart can’t feel his pain.
“Give me your poor!”
No more!
Evidently there’s a new sheriff in town.
It’s going to be an ugly weekend.
Get the megaphones warmed up.
That was the chant that was being screamed in the streets of downtown Buffalo.
I was meeting a buddy for lunch on Thursday at the Mexican joint where they have big burritos and great hot sauce.
Parking was rough because there were at least a hundred people standing on the corner. I spotted a few signs:
“Close the camps!”
“People are not illegal!”
Not a red hat in the crowd.
I didn’t bother to investigate.
(I had a burrito calling my name).
“What the hell was that about?” I asked.
“A protest,” my buddy said.
We had a casual lunch and I headed back to the car.
The police had shut down Delaware Avenue.
The cops seemed highly annoyed.
“One, Two, Three, Four...we don’t want a border war!”
There was a kid in the center of the circle holding a megaphone.
“Close the camps!” The guy yelled.
It kinda’ fascinated me.
There were young people, old people and people in the middle.
They were angry.
“I didn’t think I’d see this in our country again,” I said.
“Surprised it’s not happening even more,” my buddy said.
We watched the “liberals” make their way in the huge circle.
The division is a living, breathing unit right now.
On Sunday, there will be squads let loose in some of the big cities all across this nation, and people will be rounded up...
...and taken off to camps.
“Illegals.”
And anyone who has read anything I’ve written knows how I might feel about that, and if not, consider a quote that I used to start my book, Desperation.
A book I wrote back in 1987.
“Every creation has a purpose.”
It’s easy to say “Get ‘em all out.”
And the laws of the land certainly need to be followed, but consider this possible scenario.
A man, say from Central America, leaves his worn-torn land with his wife, and he settles in Miami, finds a job, works every day, pays taxes, has a couple of kids, and settles in...
...believing he’s found a life.
Sunday morning, he answers the door, and is pulled from his home, and sent back to a country he hasn’t seen in decades.
Does it matter that he has been a law-abiding, productive member of his community?
I’ll answer that for you:
It doesn’t.
“So what! He should’ve come in the right way!” Someone will argue as the man is separated from his wife and children, maybe forever.
And perhaps that’s true.
But it doesn’t mean that my heart can’t feel his pain.
“Give me your poor!”
No more!
Evidently there’s a new sheriff in town.
It’s going to be an ugly weekend.
Get the megaphones warmed up.
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