ICE officers stopped by our farm yesterday. “We need to inspect your property for illegal aliens,” one of them said. I replied, “Alright, but whatever you do, don’t go into that field over there.” The officer in charge exploded. “Mister, I have the authority of the federal government behind me!” he barked, reaching into his back pocket. He yanked out a badge and shoved it in my face. “See this ****ing badge? This badge means I can go wherever I want on ANY land. No questions asked, no answers given. Am I clear? Do you understand?” I nodded politely and said, “Be my guest.” Then I went back to my chores. About ten minutes later, I heard screaming. I looked up and saw six ICE agents running for their lives, being chased by my big, mean, old bull. And with every step, that bull was closing in. Fast. It looked like they were about to get gored for sure. So I dropped my tools, ran over to the fence, and shouted at the top of my lungs: “YOUR BADGE! SHOW HIM YOUR ****ING BADGE!”
I went out for a Chinese meal last night and chatted with the old waiter. He told me he lived in Japan during the war and had been a kamikaze pilot. His code name? "Chow Mein." I said, “Wait… didn’t kamikaze pilots sacrifice their lives?” He smiled and said, “Yes, but I was Chicken Chow Mein.”
