Cruisin' carefree--Obama was President then Among the numerous threats Trump spewed in the waning days of 2018 was his warning that he will close the entire US-Mexico border, (or Boarder, as he refers to it) if he doesn’t get his beloved Wall.
We haven’t heard much about that in a week or so, as cooler heads have been telling the Hothead-in Chief that zipping up the whole border would be an economic disaster that would crash the market, bankrupt numerous import-export businesses and leave the nation’s salad bars complete bereft of tomatoes until around July.
Which is not to say that Trump won’t pull a Syria, ignore everyone’s advice, and do it anyway. This bothers my Significant Other and I, because we are setting sail today on a cruise to Mexico and, after a week of sunny skies and carefree maximizing of our unlimited beverage package, we need to get back into the country.
“Quit worrying,” I hear you saying. “Trump isn’t going to keep cruise ships full of elderly Republicans docked behind barbed wire at cruise terminals, with wary Border Patrol agents making sure they don’t disembark,” to which I reply, “He may not want to, but carefully thinking things out beforehand is not the way this Administration rolls. Witness the Muslim ban, in which people in Iraq who worked for our side weren’t allowed into the USA.”
So, I see a distinct possibility that we may sail home to a barricaded dock, at least until a judge rules in our favor. I see all of us passengers wheeling on our chairs, leaning on our walkers, tottering on our replaced knees and hips, staring mistily at the shores of freedom through our glaucoma-ed eyes and shouting out our battle cry:
“HEY! WE HAVE DOCTORS’ APPOINTMENTS!”
Attempting to forcibly overcome the barriers would be foolhardy. It’s going to a be a slow charge, for one. Egging the authorities into tear-gassing us would be near insanity. Fortunately, the decks of cruise ships are not nearly as well-supplied with rocks to throw as the streets of Tijuana. May of us will be carrying souvenirs, though, and when those customs agents start getting hit with volleys of pinatas, rainsticks, and paperweights with scorpions embedded in them, they may decide they have no choice but to use force to keep us aboard.
Some of us may decide to have heart attacks or strokes in response, letting heartless Homeland Security hottie Kirstjen Nielsen host another press conference where she blames our deaths on ourselves, for leaving the country in the first place, and also on our cholesterol consumption at the ship’s buffet.
And on the Democrats, too. For sure.
Me, I’m retaining a lawyer before we go.
We haven’t heard much about that in a week or so, as cooler heads have been telling the Hothead-in Chief that zipping up the whole border would be an economic disaster that would crash the market, bankrupt numerous import-export businesses and leave the nation’s salad bars complete bereft of tomatoes until around July.
Which is not to say that Trump won’t pull a Syria, ignore everyone’s advice, and do it anyway. This bothers my Significant Other and I, because we are setting sail today on a cruise to Mexico and, after a week of sunny skies and carefree maximizing of our unlimited beverage package, we need to get back into the country.
“Quit worrying,” I hear you saying. “Trump isn’t going to keep cruise ships full of elderly Republicans docked behind barbed wire at cruise terminals, with wary Border Patrol agents making sure they don’t disembark,” to which I reply, “He may not want to, but carefully thinking things out beforehand is not the way this Administration rolls. Witness the Muslim ban, in which people in Iraq who worked for our side weren’t allowed into the USA.”
So, I see a distinct possibility that we may sail home to a barricaded dock, at least until a judge rules in our favor. I see all of us passengers wheeling on our chairs, leaning on our walkers, tottering on our replaced knees and hips, staring mistily at the shores of freedom through our glaucoma-ed eyes and shouting out our battle cry:
“HEY! WE HAVE DOCTORS’ APPOINTMENTS!”
Attempting to forcibly overcome the barriers would be foolhardy. It’s going to a be a slow charge, for one. Egging the authorities into tear-gassing us would be near insanity. Fortunately, the decks of cruise ships are not nearly as well-supplied with rocks to throw as the streets of Tijuana. May of us will be carrying souvenirs, though, and when those customs agents start getting hit with volleys of pinatas, rainsticks, and paperweights with scorpions embedded in them, they may decide they have no choice but to use force to keep us aboard.
Some of us may decide to have heart attacks or strokes in response, letting heartless Homeland Security hottie Kirstjen Nielsen host another press conference where she blames our deaths on ourselves, for leaving the country in the first place, and also on our cholesterol consumption at the ship’s buffet.
And on the Democrats, too. For sure.
Me, I’m retaining a lawyer before we go.
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