I Can’t Stop Illegal Aliens, But I Can Slow You Down, Old Timer

In 1961, I joined the US Army for three years with the intention of killing young Russian men to keep this from happening in the US:

On a regular basis,  I join the throngs of US senior citizens crossing the International Boundary to trek a couple of blocks into Mexico to buy prescription medications.  The reason we  all brave the hot, the skyrocketing gas prices, the long drive and the short walk?

A block south of the border prescription meds cost a tiny fraction of their cost a block north of the International Boundary. Plus, you don’t need a prescription.

But that’s another issue for another time.

Coming back waiting on the US side behind a line of oldsters in the US Border patrol station the fun begins.

Guy with a gun, a uniform and a Hitler mustache:  “Do you have anything to declare?”

Elderly lady pushes through the turnstile to stand in front of his table.  “I have this.”  She holds up a bulging plastic bag.

Guy with a gun, a uniform and a Hitler mustache:  “I didn’t tell you you could come through the turnstile.  Go back to the other side.”

She goes back to wherever a person is when on the other side of the turnstile.

Guy with a gun, a uniform and a Hitler mustache:  “OK.  Now you can come through.”

She goes back through the turnstile, stands in front of him.  “Do you have anything to declare?  Medications, anything?”

She holds up the bag again, but before she can speak, elderly hubby, the other side of the turnstile, holds up a bag.  “I’ve got the medications here.”  Pushes part way through the turnstile holding up the bag.


Old man, startled, backs into never-never-land, turnstile clicking.

Hitler mustache to woman:  “Do you have anything to declare?  Medications?  Anything?”

Hubby across the turnstile to wife:  “God damn it!  I told him I have the medications over here.”

And so, ad infinitum.

Mr. Uniformed Mustache with a gun never came out and said,

“I am one stupid son of a bitch here to give elderly US citizens a hard time after they have to walk into another country to get their medications at a reasonable price.”

He didn’t need to.

Old Jules

Tom Russell– Who’s Going to Build Your Wall?

Note:  I wrote this after my last trip to Mexico.  Afterward I curtailed my trips and started buying my blood pressure and other med off the Internet from Canada and India.  But I decided to post it after reading this yesterday:

Border Patrol Antics or (I got searched), Tire

7:30 AM musings over coffee:

Maybe it’s just me, or maybe it’s a piece of a paradigm shift [whatever the hell that is] but one of the corner-of-the-eye changes I believe has happened in my lifetime within the US is a morbid fascination and indulgence in, patience with and capitulation to fears.  Maybe it’s a replacement for anger, maybe just boredom needing to speed up the heartbeat.

Back when every day was a brink-of-war crisis with the USSR the attitude was duck and cover, build a bomb shelter and bomb the bejesus out of them.  A conspicuous absence of fear.    Contrasted half-century later with a citizenry frightened so badly by a microscopic possibility a terrorist will harm them, they hire a few new layers of police, agree to be searched, and humiliated for their own protection, and indulge in a series of self-bankrupting foreign adventures with the stated intention of finding an outlaw gang hidden in fantasyville, Asia.

Hiring thugs to protect us from other thugs has probably been around for a longish while.  But never worked all that well.

14 responses to “I Can’t Stop Illegal Aliens, But I Can Slow You Down, Old Timer

  1. I like a good story! I put up a pulice story this morning too. A lot of these people are just downright stupid.

    • Morning Fly: Thanks for the visit and read. My scary old folks trying to sneak back into the country they live in past the people protecting them from doing it are scarier than your scary young folks who smoke dope and dance with their clothes off. Only way my scary old folks could get scarier is by dancing with their clothes off, with or without dope.

      Gracias, J

      • I’m never going close to that border again ever! No one goes to Nogales anymore – nobody at least people like your parents because many of the businesses who catered to them are long since gone.

        Then your greeted by our Gestapo 30-40 miles north. Never again for me.

        • Hi Fly: When I lived in New Mexico I used the border crossing at Columbus/Palomas. That was until around 2007, 2008. I don’t know how things would have changed much since then. Tiny, rural town. Hardware store with products that might have come out of the 1940s, prescription eyeglasses for $50, medications a third of this-side. I never minded going there, always spent half-day wandering around the ruins of the 1912 Pancho Villa raid in Columbus, poking around the vacant lots, junk stores with castaway everything for sale cheap.

          What hassles I had over the years always involved agents operating at the crossing, or on the roads going north. The Texas/Mexico border’s a whole ‘nuther smoke. I’d be interested to know whether people crossing at Marfa/Ojinaga [another village crossing but in Texas] are experiencing this.

          But maybe it’s changed at Columbus/Palomas, too. The Gestapo’s definitely gotten strong footholds during the past few years.

          But if that’s that’s actually happened you won’t need to go to the border to enjoy it. The border, in that respect, will come to you.

  2. And I thought clowns were scary… ; )

  3. Teresa Evangeline: You were right. Especially when you give them a gun and badge. Thanks for the visit and read.

  4. Things will be getting worse and not better. Too bad out Grandkids will know how it is to have been free.

  5. That should have been NOT Know…

  6. Morning tffnguy: I appreciate your visit and remarks.
    I honestly don’t know what I think about it. Your and my grandkids and great-grandkids have a long journey getting down just to a level of hardship your grandparents and greatgrandparents and mine almost certainly went through. Or theirs, backward as far as a person might wish to go.
    I can’t wrap my mind around a concept of wishing my ancestors had it easier than they did. Which makes it equally difficult to position myself to judge what’s best for people who aren’t born yet.
    Somewhere in the way we look at reality is the supposition we’re living in the best of all times, the best of all places. That we’d want everyone up and down the family tree to sit on the same branch as we’re sitting on.
    I’m not inclined to wish it on them.

  7. “The border, in that respect, will come to you.”
    That is a fact! Been across at Columbus a couple times as well. I can see where that could/would remain as is. Nogalez as a major crossing became a drug crossing as well. They’ve shut down a hundred or more tunnels. In times past people came and went as they pleases with holes in the simple fence all over the place. Now it’s a war zone and that’s not a stretch.

  8. “one of the corner-of-the-eye changes I believe has happened in my lifetime within the US is a morbid fascination and indulgence in, patience with and capitulation to fears.” I’d say you’ve hit the bull’s eye. What are all these people so afraid of, exactly? And why do the people who are not afraid give in to their ridiculous demands for more “security”? It mystifies me completely.

  9. Hi One Fly: I appreciate you amigo.

    Hi Michael Ultra: Thanks for the visit and the comments:

    Some of my ancestors on the Native American side of the family tree tried to fight on after the battle was lost, though most didn’t. The ones who didn’t have descendants out there on the Rez. They don’t admit it, but the ancestors who accepted reality for what it is are the reason they exist. They stir a lot of dust [justifiably from some perspectives] about dying for causes, but they aren’t raiding off-the-Rez towns or military bases.

    Some of the other side of my family tree tried to keep fighting after Lee surrendered at Appromattox. Went out robbing trains and banks until they were killed or caught. But most of my ancestors accepted defeat, said the Pledge of Allegience and a few generations later fought for the side that burned the houses, crops, killed the livestock of their parents and grandparents.

    In my view the war you’re talking about in your post is lost.

    But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.

    Hi acilius. Thanks for the visit, the read, and the observation. My personal thought is that they’re frightened because they’ve forgotten they’re going to die anyway. They’re encouraged to keep being afraid by the people who “give in to their ridiculous demands for more ‘security’.” It’s a flat tire, but it still rolls. As long as it keeps rolling the driver’s got a free ride.


  10. The cats, the chickens and I all discussed it in loving detail around here. Naturally I was arguing in favor of me getting all het up, waving my arms around in a frenzy of outraged Constitutional-rights violated indignation. Next time somebody in a uniform with a badge and gun asked me some questions I’d just by golly not answer his questions. Explain my rights to him.

    At first the chickens were all for it, but the cats intervened to introduce a moment of calm.

    “If you go to jail, even overnight,” Niaiad mewed, “who’s going to haul water down here for that bunch of chickens, fuss trying to get them locked away from the coons, throw out feed for them?”

    This gave the chickens a pause in their enthusiasm.

    “Yeah,” Hydrox purred. “And while you’re thinking of an answer, what about figuring out how we’re going to open up cans of cat food with you in the slammer where you should have been all along, but so far managed to avoid it?”

    “We want to be proud of you,” Shiva cut in. “The patriotic thing to do is take care of your own affairs, stay the hell out of jail, keep buying cat and chicken feed and hauling water, and if they want to search you try to remember to say ‘sir’ when you answer them.”

    Tabby absorbed all this while licking pensively on her butt. “You’re always saying you can tell whether something’s your business or not your business by the question of whether you have the power to change it.” Scratching behind her ear, “If you think getting crosswise with the law is going to change anything you’re lying to yourself. Those people are going to do what they’re going to do. You can’t change it. You can’t slow it down. It’s not your business.”

    “Just an empty, meaningless gesture,” the Great Speckled Bird grunted. “A lot of feel-good words inside an empty feedsack.” He spread his good wing and hopped sideways. “You tend your own affairs. We’ll take care of the Constitutional matters. Trust us.”


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