Friday, January 2, 2015

becoming an illegal alien

When I grow up, I want to be an "illegal alien" in the United States. That way I can be sent back to a country whose natural resources or strategic location have been targeted by exceptionalist Americans as needing a democracy that can extract a wealth they themselves are unwilling to sweat for.

With the Republicans within spitting distance of taking over political power in a capital that is wrestling with unemployment -- and a poverty that does not afflict its numbers -- I can see that the likes of Dick Cheney, Mitt Romney, John Boehner may see my plight as righteous: Someone's got to maintain a semblance of structure in the land I fled. Someone's gotta do the inequitable heavy lifting. It might as well be me and what the hell -- I'll have a job, assuming I live long enough to do it.

The fact that I left my country for fear my children might not eat or live in relative safety is not the concern of any high-minded ruler of the "greatest democracy in the world" -- you know, the one in which any patriot worth his salt wears an American-flag lapel pin.

People might ask why I would choose to leave the land of my birth in the first place if I were simply going to be sent back. But you have to understand these things: "God has a plan," and it is up to the exceptionally gifted to make it work right. People like me have to learn our place and fruitless efforts are part of the greater scheme of things. There are those endowed with the one true vision -- the "chosen" as many religions call them. Their benevolence is overarching and undeniable ... and woe betide those who challenge that benevolence.

Who knows, maybe when I grow up, I too can have a lapel pin and wash their floors or pick their peas.

1 comment:

  1. There are citizens and there are citizens, the latter being merely resources to harvest.