This Week in Jumping the Shark

First thing that jumped the shark: sobriety. When you're clean and sober, the days get fuckin' tedious. You experience every fuckin' minute of it, in live and living color. The only thing was ever between me and alcoholism was a stomach made out of toilet paper. White Russians - my anti-drug.

Second thing that jumped the shark: this country. Two hundred and thirty years of not having an "official language" apparently also became too tedious. Put up a fuckin' fence and stick some guards around it without guns, so it don't look like we're militarizin'. Keep out the brown folk from down south a'way. They don't wanna speak the language, fuck 'em. I guess we'll find some white people wanna put down their fuckin' PS2 controllers and TV remotes long enough to pick some fuckin' tomatoes or pluck some goddamned chickens. Gut cattle and bus tables. The cost of food'll skyrocket, but hey, them wetbacks won't be bringin' down property values.

This, fuckin' frankly, has been the saddest goddamned debate this country has ever involved itself in. Sadder than whether or not gays should be allowed to marry or whether or not black people are property or who fuckin' shot J.R. Here are your goddamned answers, you fuckin' ignorant, Survivor-watchin', Hummer-buyin', American Idol-votin' cunts: either rich white people stop hiring illegal immigrants or you accept the fact that your everyday-low-cost of living is supplimented by Mexican labor on the cheap.

We're a goddamned nation of immigrants. Our ancestors came here on a boat; either of their own free will, under contract or in chains. Our forefathers fucked the natives sideways and six ways from Sunday and whipped the niggers for looking like they were thinking about stepping outta line. Somebody is always under somebody else's boot, and life is a cycle. Maybe it's our turn to look down the business end of something vicious and maybe we deserve it. Because to someone holding a whip and smallpox-infested blankets, we're the fuckin' Other, too.