A cloture vote on the immigration bill wasn’t even close to passing, and John Hawkins says he’s heard from inside sources that that was the beginning of the end for the bill. If so, then maybe the Republican Party is trying to listen to Republican voters for a change.
So, the question is: What will rise from the ashes of the dead bill?
With a combination of them now trying to listening to what we say and how they seem to misinterpret our motives for opposing the bill, the Republican Party will probably propose a new bill that calls for a death squad to search out and kill anyone suspected of being Mexican. That bill will also be a disaster. I suggest that you call your Senators and tell them in clear language — as one would explain something to a two year old — that we want some sort of border security. Our preference is, strangely enough, a border that anyone can’t just run over willy nilly. Tell them that we actually love hard working immigrants of all kind and that we also like the rule of law — and that those two things actually aren’t mutually exclusive if you think long and hard about it.
It could be a long phone call. Maybe some sort of YouTube video with puppets might explain things better.
UPDATE:
Ding dong. It’s dead.
UPDATE 2:
John Hawkins has an exclusive, behind the scenes look at how the bill was killed including what in the world was going through the heads of the Republicans who supported it.
Archive of entries posted on 7th June 2007
Maybe They Should Shift Their Paradigm
This seems like the millionth story about crazy and violent protesters getting worked up about a G8 summit, and I just realized that the only thing I know about G8 summits is that they’re like flypaper for incoherent protesters. I have no idea what they don’t like about G8 summits. I don’t even know what a G8 summit is. What’s the ‘G’ stand for? Why are there eight of them?
Here’s what the protesters need to do. Next G8 summit, don’t protest. If no protesters turned out for a G8 summit, that would be huge news. Everyone would be like, “The only thing I know about G8 summits is that protesters protest them, but now there are no protesters! My world is turned upside down! I don’t know what to think!” Reporters would then seek out the usual protesters wondering what happened, and then they could finally get their story out… as long as a few of them learned how to string words together in coherent sentences.
Maybe one of them could explain what a G8 summit is. Is it anything like E3? Those are cool.
There’s No Crying in Prison
And, if you do cry, then prison doesn’t want you. No one wants a prison full of sissies.
Scooter Libby better heed that warning.
Bush Says “Russia Ain’t Got the Balls To Attack Europe”
HEILIGENDAMM, Germany (AP) — After a torrent of sharp exchanges, President Bush continued his diplomatic efforts with Vladimir Putin on Wednesday by saying Russia “ain’t got the balls to attack Europe”, despite a threat to aim missiles at the West.
“Russia is not going to attack Europe,” the president said, brushing off Putin’s warning that he would reposition Russian rockets in retaliation for an American-devised missile shield to be based in Poland and the Czech Republic. “That feeble collection of bushy-browed vodka-swillers doesn’t have the sack for a fight.”
“Russia is not an enemy,” Bush emphasized, “at least not one of any consequence or manhood.
“There needs to be no military response because we’re not at war with Russia,” Bush added. “Besides, it’d be like smacking around a Girl Scout troop.”
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A day before meeting privately with Putin here, Bush appeared eager to put an end to the bickering over everything from criticism about Russia’s backslide on democracy to Putin’s complaints about U.S.-backed independence for Kosovo and a supposed new arms race triggered by Washington.
“There will be disagreements, probably every month or so when the girls in Moscow are ridin’ the red pony” the president said, relaxing in the sun during an interview with a handful of reporters before the annual summit of major industrialized countries. “That’s just the way life works. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that I won’t personally bitch-slap that nutless Cossack Putin if he keeps mouthin’ off.”
Asked if he expected a tense session with Putin, Bush said, “Could be — I don’t think so, though. I’ll work to see that it’s not a tense meeting. Maybe I’ll give that little sissy some dolls to play with. That should keep Susie-Pu hushed up.”
The Russians projected a similar air, albeit one awash in the estrogen of their femininity.
Putin spokesman Dmitri Peskov said open hostility is “part of a constructive relationship”, promising “uncomfortable consequences” if the shield is deployed, and adding “we give ourselves the right to expect our partners to listen to our concerns.”
Bush, tieless and with his shirt sleeves rolled up, rolled his eyes impatiently. “Sounds like Ball-less Boris has been watching too much Lifetime,” he said dismissively. “Maybe those pansy hermaphrodites should stop by Poland and borrow a cup of testosterone.”
In the interview, Bush offered his case for why Russia should not worry about a U.S. missile shield in Europe.
“Russia has got an inventory that could overpower any missile defense system,” he said, “if they could shuck off their ballet tights long enough to push the launch button.”
“The practicality is that this is aimed at a country like Iran,” Bush explained, “since if they ended up with a nuclear weapon they might actually have the cojones to use it.”
Told that Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad had said it was too late to stop Iran’s nuclear program, Bush responded: “Well, the guy’s got stones, but not a lot of smarts. Paper beats rock, and a nuclear weapon beats a nuclear program. Guess Einsteinejad can’t do the math.”
A day after accusing Russia of backsliding on by putting major news media under state control, stripping governors of their independence and cracking down on nongovernment civic groups, Bush took pains to emphasize the positive.
“Society has advanced a long way from the old Soviet era,” he said. “There is a growing middle class, there is prosperity, there’s elections.”
“Sadly, though,” Bush concluded, “there’s also fewer testicles than Lance Armstrong.”
It’s Like Someone Hacked into My Blog and Wrote a Great Post
A Barbara Ehrenreich at HuffPo argues that, instead of fining illegal immigrants, we should pay them. She then sums up illegal immigration thusly:
If someone breaks into my property for the purpose of trashing and looting, I would be hell-bent on restitution. But if they break in for the purpose of cleaning it — scrubbing the bathroom, mowing the lawn — then, in my way of thinking anyway, the debt goes in the other direction.
So illegal immigration is like someone breaking into your house to clean it. Yes, you come home, you are shocked to find the door open, but once you get inside all you can find is the living room vacuumed and — as far as you can tell — nothing is stolen. And the kids seem fine. How could anyone have any other feeling in that situation than gratitude?
Lets try and come up with some even more disturbing metaphors for illegal immigration.
ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION IS LIKE…
…someone stole your baby right out of her stroller, and after twenty minutes of frantically searching for her, you find her back in her stroller with her diaper changed.
…someone messed with your food while you weren’t looking and afterwards its strangely delicious.
…you’re savagely beaten in an alley, and it fixes your bum knee.
…someone robs you at gunpoint in front of your crying wife and kids. The next day, you get a letter saying an account as been opened in your name with your money invested in a hot mutual fund.
…someone breaks into your home and puts a hidden camera in your shower. He then uses it to leave you an anonymous letter saying you have a mole that you should get checked.
…someone raped your wife, and then she gives birth to a genius.
…you’re suddenly pulled into a van and a hood is thrown over your head. No one says a word to you no matter how much you scream, “Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?” Eventually, you feel yourself being pulled from the van, ushered through a tight hallway, and then thrown to the floor. When you finally get your hood off, you find you’re in a small, dimly-lit cell with no windows. Once a day, you’re given bread and water through a slot on the metal door… or at least you think once a day. You’ve lost all track of time. Weeks go by of you wallowing in complete isolation until finally the door opens. There stands a masked man pointing a gun at you. At last! Sweet death! you think to yourself. When the gun fires, you feel a sting in your shoulder and turn to see your were shot with a tranquilizer dart. Everything goes black. After a dreamless sleep, your eyes open to see you’re lying on the doorstep of your own home. Though every muscle in your body aches, you struggle to your feet and enter your home for what seems like the first time in years. You stumble inside, and it’s as you remember. You can hardly believe it; the nightmare is finally over. Before you collapse to the floor crying, you notice some papers on the kitchen table. At first, the papers look like an odd mix of numbers and letters that your addled mind can’t make sense of. Slowly, you begin to comprehend the truth: the people who kidnapped you — who robbed you of your sanity and your humanity — did your taxes.
Who wouldn’t be grateful in these situations?