Break the Chains
Of all the really dumb things that can be laid at the feet of Congress, one of the stupidest is chain migration. That’s the policy that allows those who have settled in America to bring in members of their extended families, including uncles, aunts, cousins and grandparents.
Of all the really dumb things that can be laid at the feet of Congress, one of the stupidest is chain migration. That’s the policy that allows those who have settled in America to bring in members of their extended families, including uncles, aunts, cousins and grandparents. It is estimated that the chain allows every immigrant to bring in 3.5 others behind him, only 20% of whom possess the marketable skills, including the ability to speak English, that are likely to keep them off the ever-expanding welfare rolls.
I know it sounds great that our immigration policy places such an emphasis on keeping families together, but it’s only when used as an excuse to defend the continuation of chain migration that anyone, when referring to a family, means anything beyond two parents and their offspring.
In a typical American family, I’d wager that most parents don’t even live in the same state as their grown children. Families may come together on the major holidays, but nobody assumes they’re all going to spend their lives living down the street from one another.
It is high time that Congress makes it a felony and no longer a mere misdemeanor to enter the country illegally or to overstay a travel visa. At least that way, Democrats could no longer claim that illegal aliens haven’t broken any laws, simply because they haven’t committed murder, rape or robbery, once they got here.
Speaking of which, a San Francisco jury decided after 30 hours of deliberation that Juan Garcia Zarate, who had been deported on five different occasions and had been convicted of seven previous felonies, was guilty of nothing more serious than illegal possession of a firearm after having killed Kate Steinle while she strolled with her father on a Frisco pier.
Nobody denies that Senor Zarate was holding the gun and pulled the trigger, but the jury pretty much determined that he was as much an innocent bystander as Ms. Steinle. By acquitting him of murder and manslaughter, the 12 typical San Francisco morons might as well have come right out and announced: “The gun did it!”
Granted, it hasn’t been the best of years when it comes to the legal system. Anyone who might have cherished the hope that the not guilty verdict in the O.J. Simpson double murder case was a once-in-a-lifetime mistake had a rude awakening in 2017. First, Army deserter/traitor Bowe Bergdahl got off with a wrist slap and now serial criminal/illegal alien Garcia Zarate has had Ms. Steinle’s blood rinsed off his hands.
Clearly, society, in its collective wisdom, has determined that pinching some strange woman’s butt is a more serious offense than murder or treason, and must be punished accordingly.
I’m quite old, 78 in a month. I merely mention it in order to explain why, even though I was well-aware of his sexual orientation, it still shocked me to hear a newsman announce that actor-singer Jim Nabors had passed away in Hawaii, at the age of 87, according to “his husband.”
One of the things that not only hasn’t shocked or even surprised me about the recent wave of sex scandals is that among those snared have been such left-wing media stalwarts as Matt Lauer and Charlie Rose.
I might attribute my lack of naivete to a general cynicism when it comes to rich and influential men, especially when they’re liberals and are generally granted immunity by female progressives who are only too happy to look the other way so long as the predator insists he supports abortions on demand.
Another reason for my lack of shock is that a good friend of mine used to work for CBS. He once shared the news with me that every time he attended a network function, he would spot Walter Cronkite, “the most trusted man in America,” in a dark corner hunkering over the youngest, prettiest intern in the room, looking for all the world like a 220-pound vulture. You can bet that Uncle Walter wasn’t asking her about her hopes, dreams and girlish aspirations.
At least now you know what he was up to when he wasn’t on TV doing everything he could to ensure that the United States would lose the Vietnam War.
I am second to none in my respect for the men and women who enlist and serve in the U.S. military, risking life and limb to protect our lives and America’s interests in every part of the world. But I think that some people tend to go overboard when it comes to electing politicians for no other reason than that they once wore the uniform.
So long as they didn’t dishonor the service the way that Bowe Bergdahl and Chelsea Elizabeth Manning (formerly Bradley Edward Manning) did, they are to be commended. But that ends as soon as they put their uniforms in mothballs and enter the shadowy world of politics. That is quite a different battlefield and the rules of engagement are not the same.
Having a uniform hanging in the closet doesn’t excuse the civilian careers of people like John Murtha, Mike Flynn or John Kerry, just as having been a civil rights activist hardly makes an iconic figure out of John Conyers, Charley Rangel, Al Sharpton or Jesse Jackson.
As I see it, if there’s a statute of limitations on crimes, there should also be one for positive acts. I mean, unless you came up with a cure for cancer, nobody deserves to spend 50 years resting on his laurels.
John Arazan of Lake Forest, Illinois, sent along some caustic comments allegedly attributed to teachers:
“Your child has delusions of adequacy.”
“The student has a full six-pack, but lacks the plastic thing to hold it together.”
“The gates are down, the lights are flashing, but the train isn’t coming.”
“If this student were any stupider, he’d have to be watered twice a week.”
“It’s hard to believe that the sperm that created this child beat out a million others.”
He added a list of comments attributed to cops:
“Relax, the handcuffs are tight because they’re new. They’ll stretch after you wear them a while.”
“If you run, you’ll only go to jail tired.”
“Yes, sir, you can talk to the shift supervisor, but I don’t think it will help. Oh, did I forget to mention that I’m the shift supervisor?”
“Yeah, we have a quota. Two more tickets and my wife gets that toaster oven she’s had her eye on.”
With Christmas nearly upon us, this is your last chance to buy my books, autographed and inscribed, for your friends and loved ones. While supplies last, the titles include Portraits of Success ($25), 67 Conservatives You Should Meet Before You Die ($20), The Story of My Life ($20), Liberals: America’s Termites ($15) and Angels on Tap ($15). Prices include postage.
Even Santa Claus was heard to say “What a deal!” when he got wind of it.
Just in case you don’t have any friends or loved ones, you still have a few weeks in which to round some up.
You can reach me at [email protected].
