Thursday, April 20, 2006

My Problem With Immigration

I absolutely believe there's an immigrant problem. Forget about the fact that they do jobs 'American's won't do' and are just attempting to quietly live their lives. You just can't waltz in here willy nilly with your strange accent and weird food and tendency to open specialty stores and congregate in places in a sometimes disruptive manner and think that we Americans are going to just sit back and let it happen.

You realize, of course, that I'm talking about my English husband and his compatriots, right?

Yes. THAT immigrant problem. Forget about day laborers and how high the fence is between California and Mexico. Is anyone paying any attention at all to the influx of British people to their former colony? People who don't celebrate the Fourth Of July, insist on tuning the television to endless soccer (I'm sorry. Football games) and think that Cricket is an actual sport? People who refer to the Revolutionary War, as my husband is fond of saying, as our 'little temper tantrum'? Forget that he's the only one in the house who will vacuum the stairs. If the job paid higher wages, I would do it!

We have an International Policy Dispute weekly in our house. On behalf of all Americans, I insist that peas do not belong piled on top of a plate of fried fish and french fries. And yes. They are french fries. Chips come in bags. Crisp is a word to describe a pleasant fall day, not a potato based snack.

They come marching over here going on about jolly good shows and cursing bloody hell, and we are hiring them, dating them, and marrying them, without any thought whatsoever that these are, indeed, the same people who burned down the White House a century ago and sent us nasty little telegrams from the King because we didn't want to pay taxes and curtsy and continue to eat blood sausages.

We're worried about Central America. Hah! What navy from Central America could possibly sail up the Carribbean and Atlantic and take us? Yet we are totally ignoring the invasion happening in our own backyards, producing little half breed Americans who will grow up and fight for the other side simply because Nana's accent is a lot more cool than Grandma's. This is an outrage, I tell you.

My husband and his family have reached out to me. They host Thanksgiving dinners and go to baseball games with us. It's all part of a ruse, I'm sure. They just want to win my trust. Then it will start in subtle ways. Suddenly we'll be flying the Union Jack from the front porch and Orange Marmalade will overtake the Strawberry Preserves in the kitchen. Actually, now that I think about it... my husband already refuses to eat Strawberry Preserves.

It has started already.

Think about this. Do you really want to sit under the reign of King Charles the whatever... third... fourth... who cares... and his homewrecking bride? Do you really want to have a court system where both the judges and celebrity defendants have on fake hair? Do you REALLY want to drive on the wrong side of the street?

Then pay attention. Ignore the focus on Latin American immigration. It's probably just a distraction created by the Brits anyway. Look in your own families; your circle of friends. Watch as they attempt to charm people with their funny talk and warm beer.

Mark my words. They want us back. We'll be fighting endlessly about legislation for the wrong set of immigrants, and be looking the other way the first time they fire their muskets and burn the White House down again. Beware.

"Little Temper Tantrum" indeed. Harumph.


Missy said...

I'm LMAO here! hahahahaahaha

Deb said...

I know this response is over a month late and a pound short. But I am holding my sides from laughing so hard! I am in your exact position -- I too, married a Brit (yep, a Londoner), but am living in the UK. It's sometimes easier for me just to write, because my accent marks me.

We were not able to get my hubby a green card (too long a story) because he makes more than I ever could, and after his secondment in the US ended (after 9/11 and Enron) his visa wasn't exactly a lottery ticket. SO ... your comment following really strikes a chord: >You just can't waltz in here willy nilly with your strange accent and weird food and tendency to open speciality stores and congregate in places in a sometimes disruptive manner...< People love my cakes and cookies, but they're still conferring about the homemade TexMex and Colorado chili.

I just have one (of many) query: If Americans are the result of a little temper tantrum, then howcome we get the stick for being so impatient?

You are so lucky! At least people don't tell your husband to go 'softly, softly'.