(excerpted transcript from a future public address of Markus Bisonius, High Warlord of the Emancipated Duchy of Neo York)
“Good morning.
“You all know that I just ordered the borders of Neo York to be closed. This action is being implemented to preserve our way of life. The American Dream.
“The same dream that has been falsely and cynically held out to the entire rest of the world — which has grown by a billion people over the last ten years.
“Count ‘em, folks. One billion. Standing room only. From Maine to California.
“And by allowing the stampede of whatever you wanna call them — immigrants, refugees, illegals, legals, migrants, aliens, you name it — we are being swamped. And we are destroying our own way of life, at a time when the business community has presided over the wholesale destruction of our manufacturing capabilities. Shipped it overseas, in the name of efficiency.
”We are told that we have to stand by and let the rest of the world flood into America. And now, this group of activists, who have decided on their own to bring into Neo York thousands and thousands of these unfortunate Ukrainian children, who’ve been orphaned by that terrible and corruptly prosecuted war, have in effect told us — the government and the people of this free and independent duchy — to mind our own business.
“Well, as it turns out, that is exactly what I intend to do.
“I was not crowned High Warlord by the people of Neo York to preside over the dissolution of our way of life. Therefore, I am taking control of all matters related to our own borders. And to immigration, and citizenship.
“Some will say this is unconstitutional, illegal, immoral, doubleplus ungood. They’ll say I cannot do this.
“To them, I say: ‘I just have, motherfuckers.’”
Does this speech sound familiar?
It probably shouldn’t. It’s cribbed from a different time, a different country. Possibly a different dimension — I’m still eyeing those CERN LHC experiments warily.
The political atmosphere of that rapidly fading world would strike most millennials and zoomers as so batshit bizarre they might choke on it. This was particularly the case when it came to America’s major party positions on the subject of immigration, the dynamics of which would upend every Clownworld model they’ve been trained on. Even the non-progressives among them would be left scratching their heads, I bet.
But I was there. I breathed that atmosphere, once upon a time. So did all the Hollywoodlanders, believe it or not.
For those of you who recognized my (mildly edited) speech and its provenance: bear with me. Spin the wheel a few more times, and watch Vanna light up the pretty letters. We’ll get there, friends.
In the meantime, let’s briefly revisit the year in which the speech was made. Back in 1997, a cat named Billy J. Clinton still sat in the White House. The nation had yet to endure L’Affaire Lewinsky, or the cavalcade of heresies, hypocrisies and lame jokes that flowed in its wake. At the time, he was just that lip-biting, thumb-pointing guy on TV. To me he was, anyway; I was the farthest thing from a political junkie you could possibly imagine.
That’s not to say I was unaware of politics, including the politics of immigration. Growing up in the 1980’s, it was definitely a part of our world’s kitchen table talk. And at the risk of oversimplifying the issue, it could basically be broken down this way:
The ‘Union Labor’ Left was still a superpower in the Democratic Party
Unions feared and loathed cheap immigrant labor and outsourcing.
Reaganite Republicans feared and loathed unions.
The ‘Free Market’ Right embraced immigration and outsourcing.
Okay, yes, I know it was more complicated than that. There were heretical partisans on both sides who took positions that might look very similar to our current arrangement. But the dynamics above marked the general perceptions and lay of the land, in most parts of the country. The Democrats urged us to “buy American” and “Look for the Union Label.” Meanwhile, the Republicans — in addition to their usual mustache-twirling media roles — were cast as the fat-cat globalists, looking to undercut and price out the American Working Man with cheap foreign imports and labor. Muhuhahahahah.
Then came the ‘90s.
And shit started to get weird.
In retrospect, that must’ve been the decade the LHC was set to when Steve the Intern accidentally beer’ed-up the control panel. Oh, Steve.
If you’d like to take a trip with me to that strange, distant planet, before it recedes forever into the hoary outer voids of space, I only ask for one small favor…
Confwoosus Say:
has tens of thousands of paid subscribers, to write crap like this.So does whatever this thing is.
Yet, Poor Fren Mark somehow cannot crack 100.
Your move, faithful reader.