Another Consequence of the Immigration Issue

So, I had the opportunity to go to this Democratic big-wig thing, which I will say more about later, if I can think of anything coherent to say about it.

I must learn Spanish; it’s painful at this point.

But here’s what I heard that I have to tell y’all about right now.  Okay, so you know how, in our state, you get a huge fine for knowingly (or should-have-knowingly) hiring illegal immigrants?  Well, apparently, one of the ways companies are getting around this is by farming out the hiring to these other companies, so that those companies will have to bear the brunt of the law.

And those companies, then, in order to mitigate their risk, run criminal background checks and drug tests and check people’s immigration statuses.  If any of those three things don’t check out, the person doesn’t get hired.

I will say that again, in case you missed it: If any one of those three things doesn’t check out, the person doesn’t get hired.

If you have a criminal record, you cannot get a job at these major, national companies, which, in many cases, are the only places in your community to work (for all practical purposes).

I’ve read, and I’m sure you have, too, that it’s estimated that one in three black men has been involved in the penal system at some point in his life.

These places have a blanket policy of not hiring people with criminal records.  One in three black men has a criminal record.

You know what you call a 33% unemployment rate in any segment of our community?

Pretty damn devastating for the whole community, that’s what.

Look, Universe, I am Knocking On Wood. My Fingers are Crossed. I have Seven Four-Leaf Clovers. Back Off!

Really, what is up with this week?!

My dad has “something on the back of his heart.”

It’s almost Saturday, right?  I mean, seriously, this week is almost over, right?


I don’t know any more than that.  He’ll get down to Champaign on Monday and they’ll be able to tell him something and, if they need to go in, I’ll go up and be there for that.  The Butcher is insisting that he will also go up.  So, that will be fun.  I left a message for the recalcitrant brother, long and detailed, because I think there’s nothing shittier than the ominous “Call me” message.

I’m assuming that, since they didn’t immediately hospitalize him, it’s serious but not serious.

There Are Some Punchlines So Good…

There are some punchlines so good that, even in the absence of the joke that spawned them, they can still make you laugh.

Sadly, I have no memory for jokes, so, even though I distinctly recall giving Mack my favorite jokeless punchline, I now cannot remember what it is.

“Why?” you may ask.  “What could make a girl forget her favorite jokeless punchline?”

It is because, in perusing the Wikipedia entry for Blazing Saddles, I have learned this one line was cut from the film:

I’m sorry to disappoint you, miss, but you’re sucking on my arm.

I am going to be laughing at that all day.

My favorite line from the movie is, of course, the list of all the bad guys:

I want rustlers, cut throats, murderers, bounty hunters, desperados, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, halfwits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men, Indian agents, Mexican bandits, muggers, buggerers, bushwhackers, hornswogglers, horse thieves, bull dykes, train robbers, bank robbers, ass-kickers, shit-kickers and Methodists.

When we were kids, we howled at the thought of Methodists being included in with the hornswogglers and bushwhackers. I still think Blazing Saddles is the Butcher’s favorite movie.  In fact, I just had to call him and tell him about “I’m sorry to disappoint you, miss, but you’re sucking on my arm.”

What I’m Too Embarrassed to Show You In Real Life

I used to dream all the time that I was either drowning or suffocating.  It wasn’t unpleasant.  I’d just be under water or smothered with pillows and I would stop breathing and… nothing.  It would be warm and dark and nothing.

I would tell people all the time about my dreams and they would say that the dreams were symbolic, that I was feeling overwhelmed or stressed or whatever and this was my mind’s way of trying to make sense of that.

That never seemed right to me, because why would the drowning or suffocating feel okay, not be scary, if it had to do with something that seemed very wrong in my real life?

In retrospect, I probably was suffocating.

Here’s what it takes, I’ve come to learn, to get me safely through the night.


Plez Leavz Message after Snorz

1.  Argh.  It hurts my heart it’s so cute!

2.  I’m just going to admit it.  I don’t get Twitter.  To me, it’s like standing in Central Station shouting.  Everyone hears you but…  I don’t know.  I keep doing it, waiting to understand what the big deal is and feeling kind of stupid because I don’t.

3.  I was thinking, when I was walking the dog, that, if a person looked too closely at our system for dealing with illegal immigrants, she’d be reminded of Blazing Saddles in which the town builds a fake town to lure the bad guys into thinking that there’s something real there.  I don’t know who, in that analogy, is responsible for farting, but we could figure that out.

4.  Theriomorph has started a self-portrait blog.  I want to send in a picture of myself, basically because I hate pictures of myself, and it would be a way of doing something that makes me very uncomfortable.  But, for that reason, I’m having a hard time committing to the idea of doing it.

4.5  And wow.  I can take a picture of myself, but I don’t know if I can make it art.

5.  My mom told me that the cinnamon wheat thins were great.  And I was unconvinced by the sound of it.  But we are out of food and so I was forced to open the box and eat them for breakfast and, what do you know?  They are good.