••can ye pass the acid test?••

ye who enter here be afraid, but do what ye must -- to defeat your fear ye must defy it.

& defeat it ye must, for only then can we begin to realize liberty & justice for all.

time bomb tick tock? nervous tic talk? war on war?

or just a blog crying in the wilderness, trying to make sense of it all, terror-fried by hate radio and FOX, the number of whose name is 666??? (coincidence?)

Monday, February 22, 2010


i don't get it!


ok, i admit it: the cons have left me clueless.

saturday at the cpac convention, glenn beck gave a stirring rendition of the new colossus, the emma lazarus sonnet engraved on a tablet inside the pedestal of the statue of liberty.

not just the oft-quoted ending. he recited the whole 14 lines.

he messed up a few times, inserting a couple extra words and changing another, but on the whole it was a good read, capturing the essence of the piece.

the audience cheered.

so what i don't get is, if conservatives love that poem, how come they hate immigrants?

i know, i know: they say they don't hate immigrants, just illegal immigration.

yeah, right. if that's it, why do they support keeping it hard to get in and stay legally? surely you don't believe folk prefer to risk their lives, health, and freedom rather than follow the law. we make them wait years to get a visa then make it hard to renew it after they get here. those are the real reasons for illegal entry and overstays.

if you want to cut illegal immigration, just let in anybody who passes a criminal background check and carries no contraband or contagious disease.

and if you don't want them taking jobs away from our citizens, just raise the minimum wage to a living wage, keep it there with an annual cost of living adjustment, and ENFORCE it so employers won't be able to hire anybody at substandard pay.

The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

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