A coalition of Mexican mayors has asked the United States to stop deporting illegal immigrants who have been convicted of serious crimes in the U.S. to Mexican border cities, saying the deportations are contributing to Mexican border violence.
Hey, we should keep them here. After all, these criminals are just doing the jobs that American criminals aren’t willing to do.
Ciudad Juarez Mayor Jose Reyes blamed U.S. deportation policy for contributing to his city’s violence, saying that of the 80,000 people deported to Juarez in the past three years, 28,000 had U.S. criminal records — including 7,000 convicted rapists and 2,000 convicted murderers.
Those criminal deportees, he said, have contributed to the violence in Juarez, which has reported more than 2,200 murders this year. Reyes and the other Mexican mayors said that when the U.S. deports criminals back to Mexico, it should fly them to their hometowns, not just bus them to the border. [emphasis mine]
But critics in America say the Mexican lawmakers are simply trying to pass the buck to the U.S. and its taxpayers. They say the Mexicans should take responsibility for their criminals, who are putting both Mexican and American lives in danger.
Hmmmm…perhaps we can save money by not landing the plane. Just fly over and push ‘em out with a pleasant “Hasta la vista, baby!”
The attacks of 9/11 will never be forgotten, nor will most of us forget what we were doing, where we were, or the feelings that flooded through us when we first heard the news. Our thoughts, fears, feelings, and ideals were solid, etched in stone. For some of us that hadn’t known someone murdered that day, time has a way of wearing those firm and definite edges away, dulling some of those memories. Not good.
I did not know anyone taken that day. But I heard about a special project, 2,996 Tribute, and signed up. I drew Rahma Salie. I’ve only “known” her for a couple of weeks, but her death has affected me. Deeply.
Rahma, of Sri Lankan descent, was born to Yuseff and Haleema Salie in Japan, February, 1973. She went to an international school there, before coming here in 1992, to Wellesley College, where she majored in International Relations, and Japanese studies. She was a consultant in an IT firm, and rose to the position of Chief Operating Officer.
While attending Wellesley, Rahma met Michael Theodoridis, who was attending Boston University. They fell in love, and Michael, a Greek Orthodox Christian, converted to Islam before marrying his bride in 1998. “They were very much in love. They wouldn’t do anything without each other,” her father said. “There was never anything but a smile on their faces.” One article I read called them inseperable.
When I first saw the picture of Rahma, I couldn’t help but grin. You can see the love she’s got for her husband, but you could also look at her, and just know that she was someone that you wanted to know. Needed to know. One of her Wellesley schoolmates said in a forum, “I bet you could also hear the sound of her laugh while looking at her picture.” I could.
She was a very outgoing person, leaving a positive impression on all that she met. Vibrant, successful, hardworking, and driven. Sweet, radiant, loyal, and loving. All words that were used to describe her. I really would have liked to meet her.
On September 11, 2001, Rahma and Michael boarded American Airlines Flight 11, heading to Los Angeles for a friend’s wedding. They were not alone. Rahma was seven months pregnant with their first child.
Many of the sites providing lists provide vague info, such as: Rahma Salie was from Boston. Or, Rahma Salie, expectant mother, and consultant. It bugs me. She deserved much more.
Rahma, you will not be forgotten by me. I wish I had known you, sister.
Via Blabbermouth, The Sword is now streaming their new album, in its entirety, on their Myspace page. I’m only five songs into it, but I’m already excited about the album’s release… sounds like it is going to be another great one!
A few of us are planning a little get together, a reunion of 2nd LAI/LAR, Bco, in Vegas. Emails and comments back and forth have been entertaining, with my favorite quote, so far, being, “The good news is my wife works at the jail. No problems there!!!”
I loves me some Hamburger Helper. Quick, easy, and tasty. I usually add minced garlic and habarneros or jalapenos while I’m browning the burger, and a handful of Mexican cheese when it’s finished, and meals for the next three lunches are done. Well… I did love me some Hamburger Helper. I believe I am done.
An experiment. Take one container, which had recently contained Dos H’s Crunchy Taco meal, (do not rinse) and seal said container, forgetting it for two days. On second day, open and stand back. Do you recognize that scent assaulting you? Yes, that’s right… cat piss. Freakin’ CAT. PISS…
A Hestonian epiphany… “Crunchy Taco is made out of cat piss!” I’d sooner eat soylent green. That is, as long as I can be assured that my exophagous beliefs wouldn’t be violated. I like my family, but I don’t think I’d LIKE my family. And there would be some nutritional value in the green wafers. What benefit is there in cat urine? I can think of none…
Looking at the cupboard, I guess there’s no need to be too hasty. There are a couple boxes more. I think I’ll try some Double Cheesy Quesadilla, and see if this does the same thing…
Today my AVG anti-virus has been whining about “a bin file is missing”. Apparently it’s related to a recent anti-virus update. Anyhow, just follow the instructions here:
“Progressive activists who helped elect Barack Obama president complained on Monday that the administration and congressional Democrats have been too timid and too willing to compromise.”
There’s also a tidbit in there about how the last year’s stimulus package was “inadequate at $787 billion”. Inadequate. Well, I’ve given a great deal of thought to the issues discussed in this news article and I’ve come to the inescapable conclusion that progressive activists are fucking morons.
My sister just turned 40 yesterday. I got to talk to her for quite a while, and came away from that phone call chuckling.
40 has always seemed a big deal to me. When I was home last fall, my brother and I were talking, and I found that he had many of the same thoughts as I did. And, after talking with her yesterday, my sister, too.
My pa was killed when he was 40. Somewhere, somehow, my brother and I came to believe that when we hit forty, we were dead. Not in a fatalist’s way… just a matter-of-factly way.
Forty, no where near old. Just dead. Where the hell does a body come up with this stuff?
Back in the late 90’s, I was introduced to the music of Sleep. I remember thinking that it was “okay”… maybe. Not too impressed.
In the past couple of weeks, I happened to come upon some of their tunes, and now it has grabbed hold of me. I freakin’ love this stuff. Funny thing is, I can’t figure out what I didn’t like about them when I first heard them…. I’ve loved this type of music forever.
Just got back from my grocery store. Still laughing to myself…
I usually hit the grocer early Saturday or Sunday morning, before many others can get out there and piss me off. I’ve been doing this, hitting the same store, for over 2 1/2 years, now. It’s ingrained, and I usually am not thinking about groceries, but other concerns when I’m shopping. As I did today.
I only made it down a couple of aisles, and I began to feel very disoriented, almost dizzy. Nothing seemed to be where it should be, even though I had no problems finding my regular supplies. By the time I made it down the third aisle, I was very confused. The aisle started out right, but at the end, where there should have been the assorted Helper meals, there was apple sauce. WTF??? That’s where I ran into one of the employees…
Turns out that they were in the middle of reorganizing all of the aisles.
I hadn’t been that disoriented since Corporal Langle smashed me upside the grape with a pugil stick, breaking my helmet and sending me into next week.
Had a creepy dream last night. It could possibly have been classified as a nightmare, but it wasn’t happening to me, and it was kinda funny, in a dark way… very dark.
Two doctors, one with his eyes and mouth sewn shut, head locked in place, and the other a sobbing maniac armed with a hammer and fencing staples. I can’t remember what all led up to it, but the part I remember is the crying guy pounding staples into Stitches’ head, screaming “you don’t understand my pain!”
I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean, if anything… but maybe it’s a sign that I should start writing more.
As T1G posted here, a good and honorable man is running for office…and we all know how rare that breed is, don’t we? Well, today’s election day! For those of you who live in Chicago’s 41st district, please remember to get out and vote for Matt Burden, aka Blackfive, today.
And if you don’t live in that district, please help by spreading the word!
