A Day Without Immigrants

The Day Without Immigrants



Cue photo of a bunch of Native Americans standing around passing a bottle of Thunderbird with "Where did everyone go?" faces on.

Yes, that's right. As a product of German/Irish/Norwegian/British/French immigration, I decided to march with my brothers and sisters on the streets of Seattle.

The organizers were brilliant with their planning: the protest started at 3.30; most of us normally would have had to be into work by at least 9 – 4 in some circumstances.

I arrived early, as I felt it was my duty to show the Native American people that I'm not some lazy Kraut/Mic/Norgee/Limey/Frog bastard who doesn't work for a living – I'm a hard working German/Irish/Norwegian/British/French American Patriot who shows up to protests well before 2 PM.

Well, 1.45.

When I arrived with my "EUROPEAN POWER" t-shirt and bag of juice boxes and Ritz crackers, I immediately asked the first person I saw where the signup for the protest was and where the European immigrants were to march. It seemed I was in the wrong block, as most of the protesters seemed to be of South American descent.

"So, where do the Europeans go? I'm anxious to let those dirty Americans see what a hardworking European immigrant can shout when given the right motive!"

"Excuse me?" He was a portly fella with a bandana with the American flag on it.

"I'm saying, where is the collection of European immigrants? I want to let those Injuns know that we mean business! Now, I would be proud to march with my South American brothers and sisters, but I see the angle here: let's show them that America is made up of many nations and all of them hate Native Americans!"

"Dude, are you fucking kidding me?" The man looked confused. I guess 400 years of living under his Indian oppressor had rattled his brain and that such incendiary comments from the fellow oppressed must have threw him off.

"No joke, friend. We must remember how the Indians brought us here in shackles and forced us to build cheeseburgers and low priced cooking flour. We must remind them that together we rose to acquire jobs at Microsoft, Apple, and Linux and how we learned self-reliance and the keys to brewing a superior coffee. For, without our strong non-Injun blood, we never would have –"

That's when the man punched me. He punched me right in the kisser.

When I woke up the marchers had left and I was spray painted with what seemed to be swastikas, but I can't be sure. They may have been attempts at smiling faces that went awry.

There is a lesson here, and that lesson is that the good never give up – and neither did I.

I walked to the nearest museum and set fire to all the Native American artwork and literature. Then I got drunk.

Look, the bottom line is this: Native Americans need our labor if they want to keep their country. Without us, who would fight off the Zulus? The Indonesians? The…those people who live in Malta?

The time has come to let Native Americans everywhere, especially in America, learn that they have a duty to share their lands with the South Americans, Europeans, Asians, Africans, and every other species on this good Earth.

Except the marmot – they are tricky and will try to burn you.

So, keep hope alive! Power to the people! Free Nelson Rockefeller and save our nation from the bigotry of evil Native Americans! Without all our help, we couldn't have skipped work today.

God bless,

Reginald Brickenshire III