Was it…hmmmmm…..Oh wait, I know! It was called MEXICO. I cannot for the life of me figure out what these xenophobic red neck assholes think gives them the right to tell Mexicans they can’t come back into their historic land and clean their toilets. Please tell us, Monsignor Patriot, if your skin is currently the color of burnt siena, your hair is long, black and shiny, is your name Flies with Eagles, are you currently whiskey drunk, and do you wear dream catcher earrings your grandmother fashioned from coyote teeth and spider webs? If the answer is no to all these questions then guess what? Your ancestors arrived here the same fucking way these people are now arriving: Packed like sardines into some unpleasant means of transport across dangerous natural features to work long hours at menial jobs and be ridiculed and despised by dumb shits like you. They wanted a few days a year to honor their local traditions and festivals and be left the fuck alone so they could get black-out drunk and fuck like rabbits. And that is all these Mexicans want, so take your These Colors Don’t Run flags back to your house and blow your miserable fucking head off…no one will miss you.
These fucktards never want to consider for one second, or they are too stupid to wrap their meager brains around the concept of trying, how it is they are living in the desert southwest and how that area came to currently be known as the U.S.A. I’m not going to delve into the full shadowy history of how this came to be, but lets just say the most benign word I can think of is “Squatting”. More accurate terms would be Aggression, Rape, Pillage, Theft and Murder. It was the equivalent of you sending your alcoholic brother-in-law into a restaurant you coveted every day until eventually someone got so offended by his bawdy behavior that they kicked his ass and threw him out. Only then you went back into the restaurant and beat and murdered everyone and then crossed out the name of the proprietor on the deed and signed yours next to it. And when one of the people you beat up and threw out of the restaurant comes back in 20 years and tries to mop the jiz off your bathroom floor, you tell him, “Fuck you Beaner, this here’s Mare-eh-kuh!”. And why are you trying to live in a desert anyway? I’m sick of spending money to get shit from places that can sustain growth of shit to you so that you can hang out and be not-so-bright in a place that can’t sustain the growth of shit.
While you’re at it Arizona, pass legislation that requires yourselves and your wanna-be Valley Kids to go work as fry cooks, janitors, landscapers and roofers. You sure as shit aren’t going to do those jobs of your own volition.