Posted on 09/30/2022 12:56:22 PM PDT by knighthawk
Nancy the true slave owner
I don’t think plus or minus fifty invaders matters to anyone outside of Martha’s Vineyard
Democrats get really mad when I ask them if they are ever embarrassed making the same argument for open borders - “we need immigrants to do jobs that U.S. citizens won’t do” - that Democrats made for keeping slaves. We need open borders so Democrats will not have to pay market wages to people to clean their houses, mow their lawns, and take care of their children.
Desnatis saved the lives of many immigrants by shipping them out of harm’s way from hurricanes...
He’s a hero!!!
It’s ok Nancy we have more than enough.
Democrats want slavery
What crops Ian just wiped out a lot of the orange crop. Orange futures went up the limit yesterday.
This is your brain on vodka. Pickled.
What a racist!!!!!!
We don’t have a shortage. We have a bunch of people who make out better with benefits rather than working.
Wow.
I’ve noticed a marked uptick in the numbers of (obvious) illegals with a street corner begging schtick. Usually bearing a cardboard sign with a message scrawled for them by someone at Catholic Charities.
Why come all the way up here just to end up begging?
Vodka:. Just splendid.
5.56mm
Oh, my word. She has lost her mind. “Who’s going to clean our toilets?”
What crops?
Nancy, the Mexicans in Florida do not pick crops, they build homes and commercial buildings. The crop pickers are Haitians. 🤓
Fellow Commie Pelosi should remember this song that was popular in folk clubs in the 1960s.
Pastures of Plenty
Words and Music by Woody Guthrie (1941)
It’s a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
My poor feet have traveled a hot dusty road
Out of your Dust Bowl and Westward we rolled
And your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold
I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
I slept on the ground in the light of the moon
On the edge of the city you’ll see us and then
We come with the dust and we go with the wind
California, Arizona, I harvest your crops
Well its North up to Oregon to gather your hops
Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine
To set on your table your light sparkling wine
Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters run down
Every state in the Union us migrants have been
We’ll work in this fight and we’ll fight till we win
It’s always we rambled, that river and I
All along your green valley, I will work till I die
My land I’ll defend with my life if it be
Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free
Right. Check their hands for calluses and their nails for dirt. And their cell phones for direct deposits of entitlements. “Hey, only two of my three name variants are getting deposits. What gives?”
She sounds drunk too.
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