They live in poverty. They die in poverty. Subject to third-world socialist policies and government suppression, they struggle to survive as their parents and grandparents have before them. Many are illiterate; their schools crumbling and as dangerous as the street corners they beg from. Those who govern over them use any monies marked for their basic needs as a way to bribe and con, looking to maintain their hold on the levers of power; levers that the poor have placed into their hands. Given for the simple promises that their best interests would be served. They die in that misplaced belief every day. The drug cartels recruit many; the cartels kill many more. Those who manage to avoid the gangs are left to fend for themselves, suffering under the regime that has been corrupted by power, disarmed by those who are supposed to protect them. Faced with no prospects other than a violent death, they risk everything they have, thoughts of fleeing their miserable existence their only hope.
They now hope that the President of the United States will help them; maybe he’ll send a plane to rescue them from their plight. Refugees, one and all, looking for a better life, or at least a life that has an expectancy beyond the teen years. Maybe they’ll end up in Idaho; Maybe in Cambridge Mass. How about some small town in North Carolina or in sunny California; somewhere outside Baltimore, or West Virginia? Chicago would take them wouldn’t they? Small town Maine maybe? It’s all about compassion; we are a compassionate people. But this child is not from a third world hell hole. He is from a first world hell hole.
Somewhere tonight, a young child in Detroit goes to bed, his mind filled with distortions supplied by the socialists running his state, his stomach filled only with the pangs of hunger. And yet, we focus on ways to justify bringing in far more severely impoverished people to be placed ahead of our fellow countrymen because we fear the politics of hate and derision that will be heaped upon us if we say “no more.” We are now a refugee country, open to anyone who feels they have a claim to the fruits of our labor.
This is what liberal policies have wrought; equality for all; equality of misery and subjugation. Serving those who sit in their air-conditioned palaces, peering through tinted windows at the groveling masses who are far too inferior to fend for themselves. People that have continually voted to sustain the powerful who have kept them unarmed, uneducated, un-assimilated and filled with misplaced vengeance. For the policy of liberalism has always been one of division, envy and vengeance. They are persuaded to hate others under the guise of social justice. They must hate others because, they are told, others hate them. They are taught to hate their country, that it’s a place, not of opportunity and possibilities, but a place of oppression and bigotry. They have been taught that others who will not or cannot give all that you request are hate-filled, evil purveyors of greed. They have been taught that they have a right to the possessions of others; those who refuse are the truly evil in the world. Disarmed, they have no mechanism to force anyone to give up what they rightfully possess; it is at the barrel of the government gun that they must steal under the mantle of social justice from those who toiled and sweat, sacrificed and risked in order to achieve their own American dream. They are taught that those who have succeeded, those who have more, must be dealt with, punished and torn down so none has more than the poorest. Equality of poverty and misery is the only truly possible equitable outcome of socialism. But even that equity must be enforced not by the good will of men, but by the armed intervention of a corrupt ideology.
The children of Detroit need not dream of escaping to another barrio; they and their parents have served their purpose on the slow march to socialism. They have been the useful idiots, voting again and again for a utopia that they were convinced could only appear if they punished others, learned the proper hate and muted their own dreams, responsibility and self-worth, voting in lockstep with their over-lord betters. They have no further value other than fodder for the misleading headlines that support the propaganda of a failed state. Soon they’ll be joined by a new, more preferred cohort of voters who have been told the same things, promises once reserved for those of Detroit. Now they’ll be able to step into the ever-growing bread-lines, elbowed to the rear by those from another country, those who can contribute far more substantial new votes than the poor of this country. But at least they can compete for those higher minimum wage burger jobs, limited though the number will be. It was promised. If the child of Detroit escapes, it’ll be to the barrios of the new democrat voting bloc, new barrios of those who now truly matter, and those who are slightly more equal than the children of Detroit are. The dying children of Honduras are of more concern than those of inner-city anywhere USA.
Somewhere in Detroit, a young mother asks over and over why her children have been abandoned by those she supported without question. And her child will dream of standing in a dirty, crumbling airport in Honduras, hoping that president Obama will step off the plane and whisk this child of the US back to Ohio or Chicago or Maine. Back home to a new life of poverty to replace the one he currently languishes in. The promises are the same, the lies are still sweet and once again, the poor and unfortunate fall prey to the siren songs of the left.
Where will the refugees of the inner cities of the United States turn to? Who will send a plane for them?