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Originally posted by junglejake
However, let's look at an extreme example. Most nations, when you enter them, require a visa so they can know your criminal background as well as your country of origin. The argument here seems to be that Mexicans who come across the United States' border without announcement are as legal as the Europeans who came to this land the same way.
So lets say there's a gentleman who, in Canada, has raped 46 children under the age of 12. He has been tried and convicted, and there is no doubt he's raped those 46 kids. To avoid sentencing, he comes to the US by sneaking over the border without being announced, i.e. without a visa. Now we have this pedophile rapist in the U.S., and the INS wants to deport him. But, there's no such thing as an illegal alien. He came from another nation, but what are borders? Everyone has the right to live wherever they want! And so this guy moves next door to you. You and your kids.
So the next time you are whining about the damn 'illegal aliens', I suggest you go look in a mirror, and unless a Native American face is staring back at you, remember that you are the decendant of an 'illegal alien' (none of us were 'invited').
Originally posted by JaxonRoberts
reply to post by JPhish
You are right... but you are soooo wrong. Maybe they aren't paying taxes, but our ancestors STOLE this land by FORCE, and have been busy RAPING the land ever since... Now you think we somehow have the RIGHT to get all pompous and arrogant, like this land is our GOD GIVEN property????
I think not....
A poem by Emma Lazarus is graven on a tablet within the pedestal on which the Statue of Liberty stands.
The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"