THE TYGRRRR EXPRESS

One issue that I do not touch on my blog is the issue of illegal immigration. I also do not deal with illegal immigration’s sister issue, outsourcing.

I stay out of this contentious fight over Americans and jobs because it is one that splits the republican party, and I prefer to focus on issues that unite republicans, such as taxes and the War on Terror. Also, at the risk of enraging many (if you’re not enraged by now you died a couple years ago and nobody told you), I just can’t force myself to normally care.

People who obsess about the borders cannot understand how I don’t care, but I simply cannot force myself to feel passion about something that does not bother me. That does not mean I think they are wrong. It just means it is not my primary fight. People who obsess about abortion or global warming…in fact, activists in general…do not understand that many people just do not care about their pet cause. The rebuttal is that their issue “is of vital importance.” Everybody feels their issue supersedes what others worry about.

So normally I do not obsess about illegal immigration and outsourcing, because the Mexicans did not blow up the towers. Besides, The Florida border is vulnerable to Cubans, who vote republican. The only Cuban I know who seems to vote differently is Mark Cuban, and he is here legally. The real Florida threat is from South Carolina, where New York liberals keep coming unchecked, determined to screw up Florida as they did New York. Arizona is under siege from native California liberals, and we do nothing.

https://tygrrrrexpress.com/2007/06/our-other-border-problem/

Yet despite my normally being fairly blase on this issue, two events lately have me turning into the evil twin of Lou Dobbs.

For those who do not know, Lou Dobbs used to be the head of a CNN program called “Moneyline,” where he spoke about financial markets. Fox News did not exist at the time, and his program was intelligent, insightful, and must see tv for young stockbrokers like myself. However, the current Lou Dobbs is a raging populist who rails against illegal immigration and outsourcing.

First of all, being against illegal immigration does not make one a racist or a brownbasher. Wanting to defend the border is a legitimate concern. Some people on this issue are racists, but not the majority. Also, not being obsessed with this issue does not make one an open borders amnesty loving liberal, as some right wingers have called me. Me, a liberal…ummm…no. Respectful people can disagree on how serious this issue is in a civilized manner.

Yet I am on the verge of being uncivilized. Today I got to a point where I wanted to get rid of all foreigners. The moment passed, but for about 30 minutes, I wanted everybody who did not speak perfect English in an American accent to get out of my existence.

Yes folks, two separate incidents put me in the Dobbsian corner.

First of all, when I ask for “no tomato” on a burger,” I mean no tomato!

I hate tomatoes. I hate them less than Al Queda, but I hate them. I hate the seeds, and I hate the way the whole tomato slice comes out when I try to only bite one piece. I do not care what nation you are from, if you mess up my lunch I detest you and your lineage. If you are a white male, you get no slack on this matter.

If I was allergic to tomatoes, you could be killing me. It is not my responsibility to struggle to understand you. You are in America. You will speak clearly, and you will grasp that I do not want that red monstrosity on my burger. I do not care if you are a limey with an aristocratic accent saying “tomahto,” but I want to call the whole thing off on your existence the next time you mess with my taste buds.

I can survive one bad lunch, but if you mess with my financial well being, I want you to be violated by a goat, unless you are from a country that enjoys that, at which point I want you waterboarded. This is directed at people in call centers that think they understand me. Delta Airlines has a call center in India and a call center in Texas. I have zero problems with the people in Texas.

First of all, I have a deep respect for the Indian people. They are bright people. The ones in America are as close to the best and brightest as anybody else in this world. I refuse to accept that they are related to the people who work in overseas call centers. If Americans can have recessive genes in the form of liberals, even India, a nation of one billion people, can have several thousand incompetents.

If you pick vegetables, you do not need an MBA. However, I want my heart surgeon to know a few factoids or more. I want MENSA bright. If people are handling my money, they had better know what is going on.

My credit card company has outsourced their call center tasks to people in India, and today I almost screamed into the telephone my love for Pakistan, and that Pakistan deserves Kashmir.

Ok, I overreacted. I am human. Yet my credit card was blocked. I asked them to unblock it, insisting that there was no fraud on the card. The charges I made were mine, and I accepted them. Yet they could not figure out why the purchase I was trying to make online still would not go through.

I repeatedly asked the guy a yes or no question. “Is my card now unblocked?”

He said it was an issue of fraud and…

“Sir, it’s a yes or no question, is my card unblocked?”

After several minutes of this, he explained that while the card was unblocked, it could not be used the way I was using it.

The way I was using it? The way I had always used it? Did this guy work for the Hillary Clinton campaign? Was he for unblocking my card or against it? Unlike Hillary, he was allowed to send me to his supervisor.

After almost an hour, they asked me again to confirm my address.

“Eric Tiger, 123 Main Street, # 111, Los Angeles, CA 90000.”

They asked me if I was in an apartment. I again stated I was in # 111. They asked if I meant Apartment 111. I said yes, # 111. They finally explained that because my card says “Apt” instead of using the # sign, I have to type in “Apt” instead of “#.”

I could not make this up if I tried. Blvd is not the same as Blvd. with a dot on the end. Street is not the same as St. abbreviated.

Have we really gotten to the point where an hour of my life I will never get back hinges on somebody unable to understand that their own computer needs to be shot and replaced with a dolphin, who according to animal rights activists, are capable of logical reasoning?

This transaction should have taken 60 seconds, not 60 minutes. I could have been stranded on the highway somewhere, while this company kept telling me everything was fine and that I should understand their lack of an intelligible explanation.

I had a six week war with Earthlink and their call center in India when my DSL was not working and they could not figure out the problem, insisting it was on my end. I was truly ready to beg Pervez Musharraf to unload his nuclear weapons on India, and am thankful I was not a blogger at the time.

I remember once calling one airline and getting a guy who spoke perfect English. I replied, “Wait, you’re not from India.” He laughed and said, “Oh, you went to Delta. Yeah, I understand you.”

All I ask is that my right to exist not be infringed. On a macro level, this means do not fly a plane into towers. On a micro level I want to come home, watch tv, surf the internet, and eat my dinner. Unlike my request that Elizabeth Hurley show up naked, declare she is Jewish, and spend the night fanning me and dropping grapes into my mouth, my other requests are reasonable.

I do not hate immigrants. I do not hate foreigners. I hate people who contribute to the decline of my well being. To quote an ex girlfriend who had bohemian overtones, I can’t stand people who “harsh my mellow.”

So am I going to join the Lou Dobbs army and take up arms at the border? No. I am selfish. My gripes are selfish, and they are overruled by my positive view of some immigrants for equally selfish reasons.

Some people want to keep Hispanic people from reaching American shores. If you are male, you should be reported to INS immediately. If you are female, between 18 and 36, and from Cuba, Mexico, Caracas, Venezuela, or any other nation where even the average women are hot, I want you imported here en masse. I know a Guatamalen masseuse who calls me “poppy.” Actually, it is more like, “ayyy, Popppeeeeee.” Anyone who tries to deport women like this will get a fist full of me (unless they are bigger than me, at which point we can negotiate). No, “fist full of me” is not an innuendo, take it literally so my mom does not throttle me when she reads this.

Some of the best people in this country came from elsewhere. Maria Conchita Alonso still looks good, but go back 20 years…my lord, bring her whole village over!

The problem is when worlds collide. What if a gorgeous Latina masseuse messes up my lunch order? I mean as much as I hate tomatoes, if she forces me to eat the burger off her belly I will be too busy to notice that awful vegetable. I will be more concerned with animal (myself) than vegetable.

So yes, I take illegal immigration and outsourcing seriously. I just cannot solve every problem. I really am better at helping others when I am happy, so taking care of me should come first.

So yes, California has been wrecked, but it is not the Mexicans destroying this place. After all, as of now, they cannot vote. unfortunately, people in San Francisco can. Perhaps we can do an exchange similar to Al Bore’s carbon offsets. For every illegal alien caught, we deport one liberal democrat. Many of them are wealthy, so perhaps Mexico would accept them until they started speaking.

I guess I can be more tolerant of others. At least until somebody gives me tomatoes when I ask for potatoes. Who the heck gets a side order of tomatoes with a steak anyway?

Besides, the real threat is from Canada anyway. How can Mexicans sneak across? They look different. They are a different color. Canadians look like Americans. If anybody can sneak across and blend in, it is the scourge of the north.

Somebody call Lou Dobbs and let him know that the local cafe is serving Canadian bacon.

I want American bacon. Sheesh! Next thing you know I will get French toast and Belgian waffles with my All American Meal.

Oh, and my dad is a Holocaust survivor, so no more German Shepherds as pets.

There. Now I can sleep peacefully, on my comfy bedspread, bought on Ebay from my home in America, from a firm located in…well…never mind. It is a comfy bedspread.

eric

This entry was posted on Thursday, November 15th, 2007 at 11:10 am and is filed under POLITICS. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.