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“A turkey?”
“Yeah. They’ve got these guns
that shoot turkeys.”
“You really mean bean bags,”
I said.
“No, I mean turkeys. See, the local
cops give out free turkeys to suspected  illegal
aliens during Thanksgiving, so I figure these turkeys were part of the
freebies, being as how it's close to Thanksgiving. The cops were just
kind of doing what Bush is doing in Afghanistan–they hit the guy
with the food to let him know that they really like him and want him
to be well fed, but they kind of damaged him at the same time, to let
him know that he should stop acting illegally.”
“Yeah, but how does he do that? He
is illegal,” I said.
“You don’t get it. They don’t
mind that he IS illegal. Hey, they're not
the INS. They just don’t want him to ACT in an illegal manner.”
“Well, the turkeys were dead, right?”
“Yeah. Except for one. The guy must
have been on drugs or something, because he was impervious to the dead
turkeys. When the dead turkeys just kept bouncing off the guy and didn’t
stop him, the cops turned to something more lethal. They loaded a live
round in the gun–a really nasty Tom--and they shot it at him. KERPLOOEY!
GOBBLE, GOBBLE, GOBBLE. Anyway, this dirty bird landed on the guy’s
head and dug in. The guy ran around in circles with this thing on his
head for several minutes while he was waving his arms in the air and
screaming in Spanish. He couldn’t get it off. He looked like an
Indian Chief doing a war dance. Then he finally fell down in a cloud
of feathers and the cops moved in. They captured the Police Turkey and
the guy.
“Man, turkeys aren’t very culturally
sensitive. I bet he sues them for not using chickens,” I said.
“What do you mean?”asked Bob.
“You ever hear of a turkey taco?
Turkeys are American. A turkey was even going to be our national bird
before someone decided the Bald Eagle was more
photogenic. Shooting the Mexican guy with an American turkey wasn't
PC. Man, I think they were sending some sort of subliminal cultural
message and telling him that they welcomed him in the country as the
Indians had welcomed the Pilgrims. I guess they figure that it's their
job to make him feel comfortable and welcome here now that he's broken
our laws and snuck into the country. Anyway, what did they do with the
guy after they did the drive by turkeying?”
“They gave him a ride to a local
citizen supported day worker job center. I saw him pick up a gum wrapper
in the gutter and use that as his I.D. with the center's employees.”
“And the job center accepted that
as legitimate I.D.?”
“Sure. They don’t really check
I.D. They just pretend they check to avoid any liability. They wink
and say the employers are supposed to check the I.D., and that they're
not the INS. Then the employers wink and say they're not the INS either
and so they don't check ID. The last time I saw the guy, he was riding
off in the back of an employers truck.”
Wouldn’t you know
it. A few days later, I ran into Jack the Rug who has a carpet installation
business. Some carpet stores have Jack and his crew do the installation
for customers. Jack recently moved out of the old neighborhood to a
tony part of town that has a wall all around the homes and a guard at
the front gate. He was able to move because he makes a lot of money
by not paying his illegal alien help very much. Jack said he figures
he’s doing the day workers he hires a favor, because they’re
all illegal aliens who he picks up at the day worker job center.
“These guys don’t need much
money,” Jack once told me. "There's a whole symbiotic crooked
money machine that's grown up based on illegal aliens. It's now become
THE establishment. It's a well oiled machine with a bunch of cogs that
all work together to keep things running smoothly, and this thing just
hums along. Listen to me. Don't be a sap. Let me tell you how this system
works so you can make some money from it.
One cog is the day worker job center that
attracts illegal aliens to the old neighborhood. Another cog is the
employers who hire the illegal alien day  workers
under the table. Then there's the charities cog set up to give illegals
free food, free medical and dental care even free clothes, to supplement
their incomes so they can sell their labor on the cheap to the employers.
This is mostly paid for by taxpayers who are, in effect, subsidizing
my workers so I don't have to pay them so much, but the taxpayers aren't
usually aware of it. The charities benefit by having ever more needy
clients, so they can ask for more money from the state. With more money,
the charity big wigs get higher salaries. Another cog is slumlords who
let illegal aliens live twelve to a room in converted
garages and tiny apartments in the old neighborhood near the job center.
Another cog is the politicians who give tax money to the charities and
who look the other way when the slumlords pack illegal aliens into tiny
living quarters. The politicans benefit by getting support from the
other cogs in the machine when it's time for election.”
"Yeah, but what
about citizens?" I asked. "Doesn't this lead to a corrupt
Third World culture? It sounds like everyone is looking the other way
about violations of law, and everyone is getting some kind of payoff
at the expense of citizens."
"Don't worry about it," said
Bob, "we're all making out like bandits. It's true the schools
are now in the toilet because the illegals have filled them with their
kids and all the white kids are now in private schools, and it's true
the crime rate has risen and we now have Hispanic gangs all over the
place and graffiti and abandoned shopping carts, but it's not my job
to do anything about it. That's the responsibility of the INS. Besides,
I moved further away from the problems."
"Geez, Jack," I said, "what
about your former neighbors who are stuck behind and who can't move?
Many of them still believe that America is a nation of laws and they're
still working within the rules of America as it used to be. They believe
the laws should be upheld and that they should do the responsible and
right thing."
"That ain't my problem, muchacho.
If they're too dumb to figure it out and work the system, the hell with
'em. Hell, it isn't just California. Most politicians, including President
Bush, are part of the scam with all their talk about legalizing illegal
aliens. Their payoff is Hispanic votes."
"Well, wouldn't it just be better
to enforce our immigration laws, and then people like you and me wouldn't
have to keep moving further away from the encroaching Third World?"
I asked.
"Look, I didn't make this system.
I'm just using it like everyone else who isn't  a
sap. If the INS wants to grab these people, then let 'em. But, until
they do, I'm going to keep hiring these day workers. Hell, not only
can I get them for a song, but they don't complain to the authorities,
because they're afraid of being deported."
"Hell, Jack," I said, "it
sounds like Third World corruption has become the new way of life in
the U.S. and that those who are getting screwed are the good, decent,
salt of the Earth citizens who still believe in traditional American
values." Jack just looked at me as though I was an idiot, and then
he said he had to get over to the day worker Job Center to hire some
more workers.
Anyway, a couple of days later, Jack
called me to tell me he hired a new guy from the day worker job center.
“ He’s got a strange name for a Mexican,” said Jack:
“‘Juicy Fruit.’ I guess he’s okay, though, and it's
not my responsibility to   check
I.D., hell, I'm not the INS. That's their job. You should see the weird
scars Juicy has on his head and face. I asked him what made them, and
all he said was ‘Gringo pollo loco,’ as he acted
out frantically pulling something off his head. What do you make of
that?”
“We're living in weird times,”
I said, and hung up the telephone.
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