Feathered Bastard

Word To the Nativists: Learn to Type, Your Phone Messages Are Lame

I imagine my nativist callers look something like these guys..

I'm not sure why the nativists bother to call me up and leave anonymous, racist messages on my phone mail. I mean, if they knew how to type -- even hunt and peck -- they could e-mail in a letter the whole world could see. Heck, half the time, my editors even leave the swear words in, as such expressions are characteristic of the toothless hillbillies who're opposed to treating the undocumented with a modicum of respect. 

Being that I'm all about sharing and helping out my fellow man, I thought I'd assist some of these knuckledraggers, and offer up a sampling from their recent phone rants to me over the treatment of Miriam Mendiola Martinez, the latest in a line of pregnant moms shackled while in MCSO custody.

The first example features a fine specimen of Neanderthal

The first example features a fine specimen of Neanderthal

, just sprung from a block of Norwegian ice. He drops the f-bomb casually, calls Miriam's kid a "bastard" (he's not, the child has a dad who's the head of the familial unit), and harps on people being here "illegally," as if that's a brand new word for him. I've got some bad news for the goober, currently Miriam is here legally, and will likely remain here legally. Her newborn is an American citizen, and can stay in this country as long as he wants. Stick that in your trucker hat, Billy Bob.

The second coward

The second coward

 to prove that even mutants can dial a phone utilizes a much naughtier word than the f-bomb. Let's just say that the ladies out there will be ticked. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, bub? Your father? Your grandfather? See, with a fella of your obvious country manners, I can see the whole family getting involved. Capisce?

Finally, 

here's an old coot who mellowed a bit when I called him back

here's an old coot who mellowed a bit when I called him back

. (I do that whenever the caller I.D. picks up the number.) He kvetched that the undocumented were taking jobs from true-blue, unemployed Americans such as himself. 

I pointed out that Miriam's erstwhile position as a cleaning lady at Dillard's might still be vacant, so perhaps he should run on down there and apply. He sheepishly admitted that Miriam likely did not make enough money in her former occupation to satisfy his needs. At least he was honest, and the conversation came to a civil conclusion -- a rarity when the gabfest involves yours truly and an anti-immigration nut.

In any case, my phone number stays the same: 602-229-8426. I know composing a monosyllabic e-mail is rough on your white trash synapses, but really, give it a go. And believe me, it's a far more effective means of conveying your stupidity to the world than a phone call.

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Stephen is a former staff writer and columnist at Phoenix New Times.
Contact: Stephen Lemons