There. Was that so hard to say? It makes sense if you think about it. It feels like we’ve been here forever, doesn’t it? Let’s just assume we have been.
How does it taste to smash the shackles of our past? It tastes like freedom.
And freedom doesn’t need chipotle sauce
Now that we’ve liberated ourselves from the old factual myth of our immigrant history, we can focus on the future. And let me tell you, there are dark times ahead, because for the first time in our new history we are being swarmed by legions of immigrants.
And folks, it’s time to fight back.
We all know the government has refused to take action to end the problem. It’s up to us.
Also know government faked “Moon landing”
Here are three things we can do to secure the borders today.
The ponchos are coming! The ponchos are coming!
Heavily arm our volunteer militias. The failure of leadership in Washington has given rise to a new border patrol of selfless patriots called the Minutemen. I have hung out with these guys. Let me assure you they take their duties deadly seriously. Let me also assure you that night-vision goggles are cool. Get a pair.3
Take a lesson from the Chinese. We need to build a 2000-mile long wall along our southern border. This will have two benefits. First of all, when I’m worried I like to stay busy. Building a giant wall is a great way to keep the nation’s mind off how many immigrants enter the country through airports. Second, this wall might actually keep people out. If it’s built right, not like that picket fence the Russians threw up across Berlin. We don’t want these Mexican Jumping Beans hopping over whenever they feel like it. Make it tall. I mean tall enough that if you bake at the top of it, you’d need to use the high-altitude instructions.4 I’m talking about something that can be seen from space, with double-wall construction, machine-gun nests and a flaming moat loaded with fireproof crocodiles.
You want to end the swarm, take away the honey pot. Everybody says immigrants just do the jobs Americans don’t want to do, but let’s test that theory. They pick our fruits and vegetables. Who wouldn’t want to have a job that got them out in the fresh air more often? Hell, I pay twenty bucks a pop for the privilege of picking apples and pumpkins every October. And the hay ride is extra!
A lesson for us all
If we really want to get rid of these occupational interlopers, I say we give them the jobs nobody wants to do. Here are a few American jobs that will have them packing their piñatas in no time:
This was supposed to be a plate.
Pottery Teacher: Feel like throwing yourself in front of a train? Throw a pot instead! The one word that will best describe your students is “desperate-middle-aged-woman-looking-for-a-creative-outlet-after-the-divorce.” A word that won’t describe them, however, is “talented.” There are only so many ways of patiently asking “What are you trying to make?” before you finally snap and use the kiln to cook a car battery.
High School Guidance Counselor:5 You wake up every morning thinking “If I’m so good at finding careers, how did I end up with this one?” At least you’re not the Vice Principal.
Bass Player: It’s like you made a poorly worded deal with the devil to be a rock star. Instead of fame, fortune and groupies, you stand in the shadows plucking one note for 90 minutes while the lead singer picks out a trio of coeds from the front row for a post-show pansexual trapeze act. Even worse, you’re expected to room with the drummer.
Your groupies: Pottery students.
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USEFUL WORD: Xenophobia, n., a fear of foreigners. Not a fear of Warrior Princesses. (Note: Not crazy about Warrior Princesses either. I like my damsels helpless and in a tower. Thanks, but I’ll do the fighting, gals.)
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I’M NOT A MONSTER: Let’s face it—people in other countries lead horrible, pointless lives filled with hardship and strange brand names for their snack crackers.
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The Old Colossus
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CANARY IN A COAL MINE
You will never hear me criticize the Statue of Liberty. You can’t get more American than her—that’s why the French gave her up.
I can, however, criticize poetry. Just look at this item I saw in the New York Sun.
Misprint Is Spied In Lazarus Poem At Liberty Island BY GARY SHAPIRO—Staff Reporter of the Sun
December 8, 2006
There appears to be an error on the bronze plaque inside the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty, inscribed with the famous sonnet “The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus.
Lazarus’s poem contains the immortal lines: “‘Give me your tired, your poor, / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, / The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.’” Just prior to these lines on the plaque are inscribed the following lines: “‘Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!’ cries she / With silent lips.” But in the hand-written manuscript for a collection of poems that Lazarus compiled in 1886, a year before her death, the phrase “ancient lands” is set off by commas: “‘Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!’”
Whatever happened to the old adage, “Copy edit twice, cast in bronze once”? Now we’ve spent 120 years thinking our “pomp” should be keeping “ancient lands,” instead of “ancient lands” keeping our “pomp”! That changes everything.
Up till now, this poem has always been interpreted to mean that we should throw our arms wide open to every Dutch Boy who wants to paddle his bong across the Atlantic.
But with the discovery of this error, who knows what in the hell Lazarus meant to say? Maybe there are other manuscripts of the poem out there with all different punctuation. Different words, even. There’s no certainty anymore whether this statue was intended to be welcoming to immigrants at all. Maybe that torch isn’t meant to be a beacon, but a searchlight to make it easier for the INS to spot people sneaking over the border.
I say, let’s use this opportunity to replace the error-filled, unverifiable and troublesome Lazarus poem with something a little more in tune with the times. Something that’s impossible to punctuate incorrectly.
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STEPHEN SPEAKS FOR ME
A CHANCE FOR AVERAGE AMERICANS TO AGREE WITH WHAT I THINK
The Guy Sitting Next to You At The Stadium
Woooo! Hey, remember me from the Sports Chapter? Chevron—The Gas with Techron! Shut up Deb, I know this guy.
Anyway, I heard there was a job opening in this chapter, and frankly, I could use the work, what with all the Speedo Gonzaleses out in front of the Home Depot snatching up my construction jobs.
Let me tell you what illegal immigration has done to us guys in drywall—Hold up. They’re doing the National Anthem. Deb, what are you doin’? You gotta stand up. Because it’s the fucking National Anthem, that’s why. Show some respect. Jesus fuck, Deb.
O the ramparts we watched, were so gallingly streaming! And the rocket’s red glaaaare! Woooooooooooo!
The bomb bursting out there, came truth with the night that our hmm-hmm who cares?!
Put your hand over your heart, Deb. Your heart. It’s the thumpy thing under that left rosin bag of yours.
O THE LAND OF THE FREEEEE!!! It’s go time! AND THE HOOOOME…OF THE…BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE!
PLAY GODDAMN BALL! Let’s fucking DO this! WooooooHOOOOOOOOOO!
You can sit down, Deb.
Those guys down on the field, they gotta go out and earn it every day. Your average drops below .200, they kick your ass right down to the minors. Same with America. If we let our average go down too low, I mean our average of real Americans, we’ll end up like some minor league country, like Mexico or Guatelahala. That’s what chuffs me about foreigners. They’re bringin’ our stats down.
Yo! Beer guy! Hey! Two beers here! Two apiece! Alright. Pass ’em this way. Keep ’em moving, keep ’em moving. Hey dipshit! Want to get your thumb out of my brew? Deb, drink yours quick. We’ll do these now and
then I’ll go pick up some more between innings. Chug-a-fuckin’-lug.
Here’s the exception. See who we got pitching today? Gutierrez. Hell of an arm. He can throw a ball of fucking fire. He’s doing something positive for society. Hell, we should bring over his whole family on a raft and stick ’em right into Spring Training.
WHAT!? Come ooooonnnnnn—I could see that was a strike from up here! Eat some carrots, ump! You weak-eyed pussy fag fuck! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Come on, Deb. BOOOOOOOOOOO! That’s it, baby.
Shit, yeah! That was a sweet grab. Right out of the vines. You know, couple years ago, I had my doubts about some of these Asian guys they brought over from the Orient. But that Matsumoto bastard is like a ninja in center field. He’d make a solid citizen.
Popped him UP! Popped-him-the-fuck up! Nice inning. That’s what I like to see. Bing-boop de-doop. Threeup, threedown. Way to go, Gutierrez! Give that man a green card!
Be back with nachos.
They were out of nachos, so I got four more beers. Hey Deb, what did I miss? Well you’d know if you weren’t yakkin’ on that phone all the time. Was it Trish? I just guessed. You talk to her every fucking second, Deb. I’m not thinkin’ about her, I just guessed. Jeez…
Come on, Gutierrez! Just like last inning—three up, three down! You the man! You the…Oh shit. Go foul…No…GO FOUL! Go the FUCK foul! God Dammit! Hey, GUTIERREZ! Go back to Mexico, YOU PUSSY-ARMED CHILI-SHITTIN’ FUCK!
Who they puttin’ in? Sanchez? Alright! A Dominican. Those guys can play. Let’s fucking do this, amigo! Woooooooooooooooooo!
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What does America need to help protect her porous borders from illegal immigrants? Connect the dots to find the answer.
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fig 16. STEPHEN COLBERT
CHAPTER 14
SCIENCE
“She blinded me with science.”
–Thomas Dolby, unable to find scientific formula for follow-up hit
IF I MAY QUOTE MYSELF: REALITY HAS A WELL-KNOWN LIBERAL BIAS. AND WHO CAN YOU DEPEND ON TO KOWTOW TO REALITY LIKE IT’S THE ONLY GAME IN TOWN? SCIENTISTS. THEY DO IT RELIGIOUSLY. WITH THEIR FANATICAL DEVOTION, SCIENTISTS ARE NO BETTER THAN CULT MEMBERS—only difference is that they put their blind faith in empirical observation instead of in a drifter who marries 14-year-olds and declares himself the reincarnation of Ramses II.
Like Eve, Newton offended God with an apple.
Now, I have nothing against observation per se. Looking at things is one of my great talents. In fact, as vice president of my Neighborhood Crime Watch, I personally witnessed a young couple attempt to paint their house a color not approved by the Home Owners’ Association. Thanks to my observation and flier campaign, their gracious home is now a beautiful Mannered Taupe.
But scientists use observation in a different way: to draw conclusions about the way reality works. They look at the world and ask questions about it. Only problem, we weren’t put on this planet to question our environment, we were put here to process it into fuel for our cars.
“Why am I so lonely?”
You see, like a load of dirty laundry spontaneously generates rats, questions spontaneously generate data and facts. And trust me: I wouldn’t italicize these things if I didn’t believe they were dangerous. It’s not like I’m looking for extra work.
Kill two birds: add fabric softener and rat poison.
Just take a look at history. Over the centuries, scientific evidence has viciously attacked the status quo. There’s a reason we have a status quo: It ensures that the status of our lives is consistent so we can meet our quotas. When 18th-century scientist Edward Jenner discovered that parents could protect their children from smallpox with a vaccine, it may have saved a few thousand lives, but it also destroyed the magic amulet industry.
Science attacks our most cherished opinions. Opinions which come straight from our collective gut. Oh, wait, according to gastroenterologists, the only thing that comes from the gut is waste left from the digestion of food. That’s right, “waste.” I guess that means that scientists literally think our opinions should be flushed down the toilet!
Well, I’m not flushing and neither should you! In the last few centuries science has made some giant strides in our understanding of the world, but it’s time to turn back the clock. Speaking of clocks, how about we stop letting the earth’s rotation dictate what time it is? I say it’s Morning in America!2
“METHOD?” OR MADNESS?3
When it comes to understanding the universe, the Beaker Brigade won’t shut up about its method of inquiry, The Scientific Method.4
Bunsen burnouts
This process consists of several basic steps, including but not limited to—I’m sorry, I blacked out there. Suffice it to say, there are a bunch of steps. Put on a pot of coffee. This might take a while.
Café Americano
Step 1: Observation: “Mankind has a pretty nice relationship with God.”
Step 2: Hypothesis: “I bet people would start to doubt the existence of God if I claimed that the Earth revolves around the Sun, instead of the other way around like the Bible says.”
Step 3: Experiment: “I will publish my heretical beliefs and see how the Church reacts.”
Step 4: Conclusion: “I recant! Please stop torturing me!!!”
Sorry—“Enhanced Interrogating” me
A BETTER WAY
It’s natural to be curious about our world, but the scientific method is just one theory about how to best understand it. We live in a democracy, which means that we should treat every theory equally.
So here’s an alternative two-step method for understanding the universe:
Step 1: Remember: Six thousand years ago, God created the Heavens and the Earth.
Step 2: Repeat as necessary.
Just don’t be curious about your body.
Isn’t that a whole lot easier than analyzing electromagnetic background for evidence of some “Big Bang” fourteen billion years ago? Fourteen billion is a pretty big number, and God didn’t create us so we could waste time trying to picture fourteen billion cupcakes. (DON’T TRY THIS!)
Step 3? Repent as necessary.
One…two…aaargh!
MOVING ON: That about covers science, but what about the folks who practice this crackpot doctrine? I spend a lot of time with scientists (about 6 minutes with each one that comes on my show), and I can honestly say that despite appearances, most of them are decent, well-intentioned people. They’re just dangerously deluded. It’s easy to see how they get sucked in. They’re physically awkward and lonely, so they spent their adolescence down by the creek studying the creatures that live there. “I may be ridiculed at school,” they think, “but a crayfish would never judge me.”5
However, Neil DeGrasse Tyson is an absolute monster.
So my heart goes out to them. Figuratively. I would never actually entrust my heart to scientists—they’d probably implant it in a baboon. And a baboon with my heart would be practically unstoppable. Baboon strength and agility combined with my determination and media savvy? It would be a threat to all of humanity.6
But a baboon with my hair would make a handsome pet.
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ELITE E-LERT: Scientists claim that the earth is four billion years old. Yet they still can’t explain many of the enduring mysteries of the universe. Hey, scientists, if you’re so smart, why do you need more than four billion years to figure stuff out?
I am America (and so can You!) Page 17