Friday, March 16, 2012

Hey Whitey, where's your green card?

I'm glad all those slave-descendants at Southern Miss had to appologize for asking that Latino guy about his green card.

The slaves all got into the promised land without a green card. Just chains and shackles and you're good to go!

I remember when me and Kipling, whiter than the driven snow, tried to cross the border back in '77 or so. We were on our way to Alberta. Wanted to cut out that thousand mile detour north of Lake Superior.

Black woman in a custom's uniform decided these two white long-hairs were probably going to stay in America and steal jobs from... illegal immigrants?

Can't say I know what her thought process was, but we were turned back at the border.

Years later my dear brother had a similar mishap. He'd been seeing a Kentucky gal for years and they were about to tie the knot. In Kentucky. Gets to the border and announces his intentions.

Not so fast, pretty boy! Y'all don't just waltz in here and marry yourself off to our women!

So the poor bastard had to back-track a couple hundred miles, try another border crossing, tell a lie, and then go to Kentucky and marry his sweetheart.

They just celebrated their 20th anniversary.

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