Note: This isn't meant for just Obama, pretty much any future/recent past USA president.
Dear President Obama:
I’m planning to move my family and extended family into Mexico for my health, and I would like to ask you to assist me. We’re planning to simply walk across the border from the U.S. into Mexico, and we’ll need your help to make a few arrangements.
We plan to skip all the legal stuff like visas, passports, immigration quotas and laws.
I’m sure they handle those things the same way you do here. So, would you mind telling your buddy, President Calderon, that I’m on my way over?
Please let him know that I will be expecting the following:
1. Free medical care for my entire family.
2. English-speaking government bureaucrats for all services I might need, whether I use them or not.
3. Please print all Mexican government forms in English.
4. I want my grandkids to be taught Spanish by English-speaking (bi-lingual) teachers.
5. Tell their schools they need to include classes on American culture and history.
6. I want my grandkids to see the American flag on one of the flag poles at their school.
7. Please plan to feed my grandkids at school for both breakfast and lunch.
8. I will need a local Mexican driver’s license so I can get easy access to government services.
9. I do plan to get a car and drive in Mexico, but, I don’t plan to purchase car insurance, and I probably won’t make any special effort to learn local traffic laws.
10. In case one of the Mexican police officers does not get the memo from their president to leave me alone, please be sure that every patrol car has at least one English-speaking officer.
11. I plan to fly the U.S. Flag from my house top, put U S. Flag decals on my car, and have a gigantic celebration on July 4th. I do not want any complaints or negative comments from the locals.
12. I would also like to have a nice job without paying any taxes, or have any labor or tax laws enforced on any business I may start.
13. Please have the president tell all the Mexican people to be extremely nice and never say critical things about me or my family, or about the strain we might place on their economy.
14. I want to receive free food stamps.
15. Naturally, I’ll expect free rent subsidies.
16. I’ll need Income tax credits so although I don’t pay Mexican Taxes, I’ll receive money from the government.
17. Please arrange it so that the Mexican Gov’t pays $4,500 to help me buy a new car.
18. Oh yes, I almost forgot, please enroll me into a free Mexican Social Security program so that I’ll get a monthly income in retirement.
I know this is an easy request because you already do all these things for all his people who walk over to the U.S. from Mexico. I am sure that President Calderon won’t mind returning the favor if you ask him nicely.
Thank you so much for your kind help. You’re the man!!!
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Darkness by Lord Byron
I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires—and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings—the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consum'd,
And men were gather'd round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other's face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain'd;
Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks
Extinguish'd with a crash—and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd: the wild birds shriek'd
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl'd
And twin'd themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless—they were slain for food.
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again: a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought—and that was death
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails—men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devour'd,
Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lur'd their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answer'd not with a caress—he died.
The crowd was famish'd by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they rak'd up,
And shivering scrap'd with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other's aspects—saw, and shriek'd, and died—
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless—
A lump of death—a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirr'd within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp'd
They slept on the abyss without a surge—
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon, their mistress, had expir'd before;
The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them—She was the Universe.
Friday, March 11, 2011
You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better of, trust me.
And that's when you met me.
"What... what happened?" You asked. "Where am I?"
"You died," I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
"There was a... a truck and it was skidding..."
"Yup," I said.
"I... I died?"
"Yup. But don't feel bad about it. Everyone dies," I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. "What is this place?" You asked. "Is this the afterlife?"
"More or less," I said.
"Are you god?" You asked.
"Yup," I replied. "I'm God."
"My kids... my wife," you said.
"What about them?"
"Will they be alright?"
"That's what I like to see," I said. "You just died and your main concern is for your family. That's good stuff right there."
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn't look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
"Dont't worry," I said. "They'll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn't have tie to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it's any consolation, she'll feel very guilty for feeling relieved."
"Oh," you said. "So what happend now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?"
"Neither," I said. "You'll be reincarnated."
"Ah," you said. "So the Hindus were right."
"All religions are right in their own way," I said. "Walk with me."
You followed along as we strode through the void. "Where are we going?"
"Nowhere in particualr," I said. "It's just nice to walk while we talk."
"So what's the point, then?" You asked. "When I get reborn, I'll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in my life won't matter."
"Not so!" I said. "You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don't remember them right now."
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. "Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic then you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It's like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it's hot or cold. You put a tiny part or yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you've gained all the experiences it had.
"You've been a human for the last 34 years, so you haven't stretched out yet and felt the rest of you immense consciousness. If we hung out here for longer, you'd start remembering everything. But there's no point doing that between each life."
"How many times have I been reincarnated, then?"
"Oh lots. Lots and lots. And into lots of different lives." I said. "This time around you'll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 A.D."
"Wait, what?" You stammered. "You're sending me back in time?"
"Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from."
"Where you come from?" You pondered.
"Oh sure!" I explained. "I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there's others like me. I know you'll want to know what it's like there but you honestly wont understand."
"Oh." you said, a little let down. "But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, could I have interacted with myself at some point?"
"Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own time span you don't even know it's happening."
"So what's the point of it all?"
"Seriously?" I asked. "Seriously? You're asking me for the meaning of life? Isn't that a little stereotypical?"
"Well it's a reasonable question." you persisted.
I looked in your eyes. "The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature."
"You mean mankind? You want us to mature?"
"No. Just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature, and become a larger and greater intellect."
"Just me? What about everyone else?"
"There is no one else," I said. "In this universe, there's just you. And me."
You stared blankly at me. "But all the people on earth..."
"All you. Different incarnations of you."
"Wait. I'm everyone!?"
"Now your getting it." I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
"I'm every human who ever lived?"
"Or who will ever live, yes."
"I'm Abraham Lincoln?"
"And you're John Wilkes Booth, too." I added.
"I'm Hitler?" you said, appalled.
"And you're the millions he killed."
"And you're everyone who followed him."
You fell silent.
"Every time you victimized someone," I said, "You were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you've done, you've done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you."
You thought for a long time.
"Why?" You asked me. "Why do all this?"
"Because someday, you will become like me. Because that's what you are. You're one of my kind. You're my child."
"Whoa." you said, incredulous. "You mean I'm a god?"
"No. Not yet. You're a fetus. You're still growing. Once you've lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born."
"So the whole universe," you said. "It's just..."
"An egg of sorts." I answered. "Now it's time for you to move on to your next life."
And I sent you on your way.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Death! that struck when I was most confiding.
In my certain faith of joy to be--
Strike again, Time's withered branch dividing
From the fresh root of Eternity!
Leaves, upon Time's branch, were growing brightly,
Full of sap, and full of silver dew;
Birds beneath its shelter gathered nightly;
Daily round its flowers the wild bees flew.
Sorrow passed, and plucked the golden blossom;
Guilt stripped off the foliage in its pride
But, within its parent's kindly bosom,
Flowed for ever Life's restoring tide.
Little mourned I for the parted gladness,
For the vacant nest and silent song--
Hope was there, and laughed me out of sadness;
Whispering, "Winter will not linger long!"
And, behold! with tenfold increase blessing,
Spring adorned the beauty-burdened spray;
Wind and rain and fervent heat, caressing,
Lavished glory on that second May!
High it rose--no winged grief could sweep it;
Sin was scared to distance with its shine;
Love, and its own life, had power to keep it
From all wrong--from every blight but thine!
Cruel Death! The young leaves droop and languish;
Evening's gentle air may still restore--
No! the morning sunshine mocks my anguish-
Time, for me, must never blossom more!
Strike it down, that other boughs may flourish
Where that perished sapling used to be;
Thus, at least, its mouldering corpse will nourish
That from which it sprung--Eternity.
Another poem that I greatly love and admire.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Death came to me in a mini skirt
As skittish as a kitten,
And said,"I am come - for your final flirt,"
But added, "You don't seem smitten."
Says I, "Well - not in my wildest whim
Did I picture you looking like this,
I'd been told that you were a reaper grim
And behold - a saucy miss."
"Ah - many a one is like yourself
Surprised by my winning smile,
I have jokes and jests like a playful elf
And I know the way to beguile."
"But - please just pass me by with a nod
I've poems and plays unwritten,
There are footpaths I have never trod
As you say - I'm not much smitten."
Oh hush my darling - and don't repine,"
And she gave a gracious prance,
Then she twisted her fingers into mine
And whispered, "Shall we dance?"