by Jim Karger, Dollar Vigilante:
“Ain’t you ‘fraid livin’ down there?”
This was the inquiry of the good old boy wearing a Homeland Security uniform as we passed through the 26-mile border security checkpoint outside Laredo, Texas, an outpost inhabited by more like him, dogs, and cameras — lots of cameras.
He was clearly suspicious of two gringos driving a Mexican-plated car and that question was the best he could do – a mildly-retarded version of cross-examination.
“No, not afraid,” I replied stiffly, but wanting to add, “but you, on the other hand, scare the shit out of me.” To do so, I knew from past experience, would land me in Line 2 where Bubba’s boss waits to deal with traitors (pronounced like “taters”), meaning anyone who, like me, dares live outside “dis great (pronounced ‘grit’) country.”
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