Posted by
Frigglesnitz on Thursday, March 06, 2008 6:53:01 AM
Like the majority of my fellow Americans, I have been waiting for those esteemed, elite ones in Washington, D.C. – the ones we voted in office to carry out the wishes of "We, the People" – to see the promised fence on our southern border. I have been waiting for our borders to be protected. I have been waiting. And waiting. And waiting.
Months ago, it was thought that just any day now, the fence would be going up. After all, Congress had passed a law saying that it would be. Who wouldn't trust Congress?
Watching Fox News one morning recently, I caught sight of Secretary of Homeland Security Chertoff (and, oh, thank God for such an effective, dedicated worker ant) saying, as quoted in
http://www.townhall.com/Columnists/TonyBlankley/2008/03/05/border_insecurity:
"I have personally witnessed the value of this system, and I have spoken directly to the border patrol agents who have seen it produce actual results, in terms of identifying and allowing the apprehension of people who were illegally smuggling across the border."
I said to the TV set, "Yeah, right." I had actually become disillusioned.
My disillusionment became quite universal, apparently, at least on the pages of Townhall.com. Around mid-summer it had become common to see, at the end of many blog posts, "WHERE IS THE FENCE?" The answer, my friend, to coin a phrase, was blowin' in the wind.
It was a question taken up with my own elected ones in D.C. frequently. As of this moment their responses are forgettable. They were nothing more than empty platitudes to soothe ruffled feathers. Those D.C. people are good at that. They should be: they have so much experience at it.
Sometime in the not-too-distant past it became known there were tunnels, some football-field sized, beneath the borders between the U.S. and Mexico. It was said that these tunnels were too expensive to destroy. I told my esteemed ones then that I had not priced a stick of dynamite lately, but that it was thought that a few sticks of it, strategically placed, would blast those tunnels to smithereens.
Later I learned that at least one of the tunnels had been cemented in with several feet of cement.
Having traveled by car on Interstates through Kentucky and Tennessee, and parts of southern Illinois and southern Indiana, it was noted that great hillsides had been blasted away (presumably by dynamite) to make it possible for the Interstates' existence.
Therefore one could hardly blame me for believing that it would take somewhat more than a few feet of cement to plug up the holes of those tunnels. Besides, some energetic and imaginative would-be illegal alien would be able easily to take a few sticks of dynamite and blow that cement to smithereens. A few feet of cement will not deter an illegal alien attempting to cross into the promised land. You know, that place where there's free practically anything. You know, that place where a job can be had for a few dollars a day, most of which goes straight into the Mexican economy – an economy, incidentally, which is comprised of one-fourth of such "remittances."
Your esteemed ones, as well as my own esteemed ones in D.C., apparently believe their constituencies are, well, stupid. Born yesterday. Born last night.
The veil has been lifted from my eyes. I can recognize fluff and kerfluffle when I see it, when I hear it. The sounds of fluff and kerfluffle have become quite noisy of late.
Thus, the "Yeah, right" response to the TV set when Shirt-off, earnest in his assurances about that 28-mile virtual fence, came off as the Emperor in his newest finery. He was, indeed, a sartorial splendor to behold.
Now we find – surprise! – that there will be no fence. Could it be that big business has anything to do with this? Could it be that politics has anything to do with this?
Where is the fence?
Well, can't you see it? It's like Shirt-off, along with his empty suit, and it's all of the other Washington, D.C. naked-as-jaybird worker ants, and, pardon the expression, the queen, flapping in the breezes created by their own windy lies.
Mexican Tea Party, anyone?