What's wrong, slick? Things look different when there's a chance of personal impact? Why am I not shocked and surprised?
Come on down here to the border in Cochise County, Arizona. I'll be more than happy to give you the VIP tour. Did you ever see the movie "Apocalypse Now"? I can show you scenes here that make it look like the Peter Pan ride at Disneyland.
Let's discuss the sacred concept of private property.
Does your fence impede illegals? It will be cut.
Do you have a well system? Its pipes and valves will be smashed to top off water bottles.
Does your house contain food? It will be broken into and pilfered.
Does your dog bark at trespassers? Start digging his grave.
Are you allergic to shellfish? Oops, wrong movie...
Is Paco running late for his appointment at the pick-up site for his ride to Phoenix? Your car will be stolen out of your yard or your sweet old gray-haired mother will get her wrinkled fanny car-jacked on the road.
Hyperbole? (Hint: that's a fancy foreign word that we urbane sophisticates here in the Cultural Center of the Universe use in place of the gauche term exaggeration.) Not hardly. It happens here all the damn time.
(That's it. That's all I have to say. Over and out.)