“A lot of people in California don’t like [sanctuary cities] either,” Trump said. “They’re rioting now, they wanna get out of their sanctuary cities.”
It is dawn in California now, and the smoke still curls from the wreckage of taco shops destroyed by arson. The sewers run green with rivers of guacamole, dumped by the bucketful as vengeful rioters, fueled by one cup of covfefe too many, perhaps, smashed storefronts of Hispanic-owned business in a fury that threatened to make the Bowling Green massacre look like a church picnic.
Blind with mob rage, they have overturned every landscaping truck they could find. Shovels and rakes lie scattered on the roadway, occasionally picked up and wielded as weapons by the angry gringos who can remember which end to hold them by. Housepainters and plumbing contractors not named Sanchez or Domingo are hastily wrapping banners that read “White-Owned” around their shops and vehicles, so that the rioters will spare their property.
They are biting down hard on the hand that feeds them, as every busboy, cook and chef has fled the city. We are waking up in a town without chile rellenos, machaca or burritos of any kind. Hell, we don’t even have a Denny’s with enough staff to open. But the rioters feel that’s worth it, to rid themselves of the onus of living in a sanctuary city. Even though they will have to start trimming their own hedges and cleaning their own gutters, the rioters are wiping the blood off their knuckles with satisfaction, professing to have no worries about a tomorrow where they will have nothing to eat but tuna salad on white bread. The sanctuary has been destroyed, the immigrant banished. They gaze hopefully towards a future where they no longer have to hear "Por Espanol, marque el dos," when they are on hold, and the smiley-faced “Rollback” signs at Walmart cease being bilingual.
Haw! Just kidding. Everything is cool here. Trump is full of shit, but nobody should be surprised by that.
It’s his default setting.