So there we were, my wife and I, patiently waiting for the York County (SC) council meeting to start. I was one of several constituents there to make a statement in support of our councilman’s resolution to prevent the Refugee Relocation program from dumping third-world citizens in our county. I wanted to point out that bringing in needy refugees does not benefit our nation or citizens in any way, so it can only be viewed as charity. And taking money from taxpayers to give to a foreign charity without our consent is unconstitutional and illegal.
Next to my wife sat a 40-something guy – longish hair with a balding spot, rimless glasses, Mister Rogers sweater, 20-year old Birkenstock sandals. A slight lisp. I’m pretty sure that was his Prius in the parking lot, the one with the “Bernie Sanders Works For Me” sticker next to the faded “Hope and Change” decal.
My wife is a chatty sort of person, and of course she had to strike up a conversation with her next-seat neighbor. “Are you here to talk about the Refugee problem?” she chirped. I thought Mr. Birkenstock’s eyes were going to pop out of their sockets.
“What do you have against those poor people?” he said, revving up. “We should be helping them! It’s our duty as a society! What about the CHILLdrennnn?”
Yep, I had heard that sound before, on PBS. “The CHILLdrennnn.” I’ve always wondered why the Hope and Change crowd doesn’t seem to have any problem dumping $20 trillion of debt on the CHILLdrennnn. But I digress.
My wife is chatty, all right. But get on her wrong side and she is chatty like a Rottweiler. She lit into Mr. Birkenstock with a scorched-earth monologue detailing the many reasons why moving throngs of hostile, unemployable, non-English-speaking, permanent welfare recipients to York County at a time when we can’t even take care of our own underachievers, is a bad idea. “Why don’t you donate YOUR money to the refugees, instead of trying to take mine?” she asked.
Mr. Birkenstock shook his head at us, his face dripping with a condescending mix of pity and disgust.
The meeting began, and we all sat through hours of the mostly boring and often icky sausage-making of low-level politics. Then the agenda turned to how the county will manage the rapid growth we are currently experiencing. It was Mr. Birkenstock’s time to take the microphone.
“I am opposed to all this growth!” he wailed. “We don’t want any more of these big apartment buildings going up in our nice, peaceful neighborhood! The traffic is getting terrible. And what about the CHILLdrennnnnn! They can’t play safely in the street any more!”
We laughed out loud.
Tom Balek – Rockin’ On the Right Side
Laugh, laugh, I thought I’d die
It seemed so funny to me
Laugh, laugh you met a guy who taught you how it feels to be
Lonely, oh so lonely