The Aunti M-Igration plan: Party of the First Part

Oh dear.  She really does think it is about her.  I wasn't home, but she had the television on, just listening while she did her sit-ups, and she kept hearing about anti-immigration.  By the time I got home, she was sitting on the front porch in a rocker with a toddy and a notebook, fleshing out the details. 

Fleshing out, one of my favorite things!  But already, I digress!  Yes!  Who knew there were so many people committed to Aunti M-Igration! Evidently, there are a whole passel of them, starring some little cutie named Stephen Miller, and our very own President!  Committed!  To Aunti M-Igration, and me knowing nothing about it!

I tried to learn more, but they had already changed the subject on the tv before I finished the sit-ups and had gone on to painting my toes.  Have you noticed that?  How quick everything is now?  Not only quick but here they are, two people already on the screen, one in one place and one in another, and not only that, but underneath there are two more things to think about racing each other from the left to the right, one on top of the other.  You would think they would give a girl a minute for things to just sink in. But maybe there is just plain too much going on.  Maybe it would be dangerous if it all sunk in.

In any case, that leaves it up to me, of course, Aunti M Herself, to come up with the full-fledged, Start to Finish, A to Z version.  So here goes:

1.  It seems to me that unless you can trace yourself straight back to Adam and Eve with no interruptions or little side trips, then your DNA likely resembles Aunti M's, which is a lovely jumble, (I know, I had it tested.)  If yours is a little more organized and you can trace yourself back say to some barely remembered seventh Grand Something who was born and lived in the same house where you live right this minute,  then you need to get up and start packing.  Because honey, if you haven't been anywhere but surrounded by your very own relatives, well, let's just say being constantly marinated in one's own juices is not highly recommended by people who recognize and promote sanity. Just watch some BBC about the people in the big castles if you don't believe Aunti M.  And even that person, that musty, barely remembered old coot was not Number One.

So, what Aunti M is trying to gently tell you is we are all immigrants.  Everybody.  You included. Our families all started out somewhere else.  The only ones of us in the United States of America that have any claim to anything solid is Native Americans, who made the long lamented mistake of putting up with our ancestors as they dribbled to shore, helpless and stupid about where they had landed.  So all that is to say, when you think about immigrants, think about your own family. Well, maybe that might not be the totally best idea, as I agree, it might have been a little better for all concerned if your Uncle Stanley had fallen off the boat, but I digress.

All that is to say, the absolute first thing in the Aunti M-Igration plan is to imagine yourself, (or your Great great great great great Aunt Whomever) in the same position these people are in, giving up their homes, and everything they have known to come here, hoping for a better life for their children.  There might even be something in the Bible about putting yourself into someone else's sandals, not sure. 

2.  But Aunti M, aren't they criminals, aren't they bringing drugs?  Why should we let them in to take our jobs?

I am so glad you brought that up.  Here's the thing.  The good drugs are already on sale in Colorado.  And the people bringing the really bad drugs have got way too much money to think of walking in the heat in increasingly flimsy shoes from Guatemala to Texas.  Criminals who want in to the U.S., if they are any good at their jobs, buy their way in on an air-conditioned airplane.  As for our jobs.  Here's a gentle question:

WHO THE HELL WANTS TO PICK TOBACCO/COTTON/STRAWBERRIES BENDING OVER IN THE HOT SUN HOURS AND HOURS; PUT SUCTION CUPS ON A COW'S TEATS FOR TWELVE HOURS A DAY IN WISCONSIN; CLEAN A  COMPLETE AND SMELLY STRANGER'S DAMN HOTEL ROOM; WORK IN A MEAT-PACKING PLANT TRYING TO CUT LEGS OFF A DEAD CHICKEN RACING BY ON A CONVEYOR BELT WITH A VERY SHARP KNIFE OVER AND OVER AND OVER AND OVER??????????? 

You think about that while your Aunti M takes a deep breath and a big sip or two. . .

These are the jobs that they are "taking" from  us, which is not the kind of job your Mama envisioned for you, a bona fide having-nothing-to-do-with-where-you-were-born U. S. Citizen.  Now, if you want to do those jobs?  There are plenty of them unfilled, right now,  in the great state of North Carolina: packing plants all over, pig or chicken take your choice.


3.  But I thought Stephen Miller was Jewish and went to Duke University.  Doesn't that mean he is smart and ought to know about being discriminated against, himself and his family?

Well, there are many graduates and fans of the University of North Carolina that would say that long term exposure to Duke would explain the crazy.  As for the Jewish part, both his rabbi and his very own uncle have lamented their relationships to him, in public, meaning, in the newspaper, in articles that they wrote themselves.  Plus there was that time he painted hair on his ample bald head in the very unfortunate TV interview.  And we have all learned that hair/no hair is a stinging sore subject (see number 5.)

4.  But what about the President?  His grandfather moved from Germany, right? 

Yes he did, and got over here to make his fortune in "hotel management" out West, as Sean Spicer/"the Mooch"/Sarah Huckabee Sanders/ would have put it.  Translation: ho-houses in the Gold Rush, the American dream!  Yes, it isn't quite clear why the President is so mad at immigrants when his esteemed granddaddy was one and he has his own self two out of three times married one.  Well, maybe that does begin to explain it.  I am not one to meddle in a personal affairs, any of them, all of them that he has had.  Except for that one with Stormy, who is an acquaintance, a professional colleague and a fully developed fan of Aunti M.

5. But here is what I don't get.  Why does a man who is so excited about preserving whiteness bake himself to darker tones on a regular basis?

Well honey, it is a mystery.  But I think you have hit on the answer to all this.  Have you noticed that our Dear Leader is just the slightest shade of orange?  No one talks about it, so keep it to yourself, but I think that is part of the problem.  You see there are not many orange people, and I think he feels left out, a lot, like he is still trying to find his own people so he can feel okay.  And the Orange People have yet to fully organize.  There was that John Boehner guy, with the unfortunate last name, who too felt so left out he had to leave Congress and go smoke and drink Merlot.  Evidently he has recovered a bit, as he gets interviewed from time to time, with his cig and wine glass, and he is always, always in a good humor, looking in from the outside.  Right now, the only orange person on the national stage is 45, and have you noticed how all the people around him keep leaving?  I don't really understand that, but you know it has got to make him feel badly about himself. 

And then there is the hair business.  This too is rather hush hush.  But if you look closely when he's in the wind, that part on the top, the part that looks kinda like what you pull out of the dryer vent, if it was all flattened and carefully arranged, well, that part kind of lifts up.  I think we ought to have a little sympathy.  What would it be like if you were constantly in danger of having the vast majority of your hairdo lift up like that and be somewhere it was not supposed to be?  Especially if you were orange?. . .

. . .Martha here, sorry to interrupt. But it is time for Aunti M's pre-cocktail hour nap, (she has company coming at 4:15), so I'll let her continue another time. . .Aunti M had me put another rocker on the porch so if you want to come on over, you are welcome.  She said there was a LOT more she wanted to talk about.