And so it came to pass that every person unlawfully entering the US of A via the nation’s southern border would be called, “Mexican;” irrespective of nationality, age, gender, or sexual orientation. It mattered not should the invader be of native Central and North American peoples, or a hybrid born of bloodlines disrupted by Spanish conquerors and rapists settlers. Individuals crossing the border from Mexico into the United States without US Government authorization would henceforth be referred to as, “Mexican.” Note(s): “Ese”, “Central American” and/or “Son-In-Law” are also acceptable descriptors when in Sanctuary States. Puerto Ricans in New York City and Cubans in Miami ought not be presumed, “Mexican,” they may be legal immigrants. However, all of these diverse and different people are considered “Mexican” if dressed in a landscape services company uniform.
See Also: PHOTOS
No matter how incorrectly applied, labels tend to stick real good. Sometimes insensitive and often improper, labels and colloquial language are not vehicles we use to convey full and accurate descriptions. They’re concise expressions of a sentiment or abstract identity. Mislabeling humans is no different from offering a person a Coke when you actually have a fridge full of Pepsi, Sprite and Sunkist. Or, calling a meal that has never graced a plate in Western Europe or Asia, Italian or Chinese. (avoid sub shops that also sell Italian and Chinese food, regardless of number of semis parked in the lot) No matter how inaccurately a label or expression might reflect a pure definition, we use them because they get the point across.
“Mexican” is the label most often attached to any shortish of stature, broken or non-English speaking swarthy person hailing from below America’s boot toes, willing to do the “jobs that Americans won’t do.” George W. Bush must have fallen off the wagon when he said that. Being drunk and/or concussed would be the only logical excuse for uttering such a fallacious statement. There most certainly are US of Americans willing and able to take on tedious, labor intensive chores! Stalwart souls, disinterested in labels, that will work without complaint or unreasonable demand.
From The Baltimore Sun, 10/15/2020 (please click here for article in its entirety):
A battalion of 20 goats have been unleashed upon North Baltimore’s Wyman Park Dell to do the job a lawn mower could not: taming the steep, overgrown hill that overlooks the Baltimore Museum of Art.
The hungry horde arrived in the park Thursday afternoon, carted in from a Centreville farm owned and operated by Eco-Goats, a company that specializes in the kind of environmentally friendly — and adorable — vegetation control only goats can provide.
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Lucky for the park’s newest employees, though, the 0.65 acre hillside is ripe with multiflora rose plants and wineberries — two types vegetation that are tasty treats for goats.
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Goats are good for vegetation control for a lot of reasons, said Brian Knox, president of Sustainable Resource Management Inc. and supervising forester for Eco-Goats. For one, he said they can get at places machines and people can’t. Though the slope at Wyman Park Dell is quite steep, Knox said the goats were prancing up and down its incline like it was nothing. Their mouths and digestive systems also obliterate seeds from invasive species, “with almost no viability coming out the back end.”
It also doesn’t hurt that they’re able to do the job herbicide-free.
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According to the group’s contract with Eco-Goats, the critters will be stationed in the dell for four to seven days.
It all depends on how hungry they are.
In difficult to access urban spaces, goats are thorough ground clearers. The four legged laborers nibble up every leaf and tender branch their mouths are able to reach. No standard workplace foibles with this crew; goats don’t snitch, gossip, get deported or try to unionize. Organic and very efficient, they’ve no need for smoke or potty breaks. Goats come to work and do not return home until their assigned task has been completed. Observing the fun little critters munch the day away is a heck of a lot more interesting, and peaceful, than is watching men wield power tools, by the way. If the men were half nekkid and wholly buff, that would be another story, of course.
HELPFUL HINT: For control freaks and the perpetually malcontent: Personal offense is a personal issue. Therapists are paid to care about other people’s personal issues. Whinging to strangers about how they’ve offended your sensibilities is asking them to provide you with free therapy services. Suppress the urge to inflict your feelings upon strangers and, instead, choose to feed a starving therapist, you whiny cheapskate. Now returning to our regularly scheduled discourse on goats and Mexicans.
While showing the respect deserved any sentient beastie, one is free to pat a nanny goat on the butt, call her Sweet Thang and compliment the wiggle in her walk. Human resources and law enforcement won’t care, only her shepherd. Listen to the keeper of the goats and follow instruction if you would like your landscaper fondling moment to be a rewarding experience, for all involved. If your goat interaction should result in an emergency room visit and/or civil law suit, you have done something very, very wrong. Very.
Oh, we’re not done . . . just when you thought goats were the end all when it comes to getting your yard work done for ya, guess what else they’re good for? When there is no more munching to be munched, the job your goat was hired to do is complete, turn your amazing land clearing machine into Easter dinner. You know what it’s been eating, after all.
Try doing that with the illegal Mexican you hire from a Home Depot parking lot.