Dear ABS

Dear ABS, you seem to know pretty much everything. Tell me what you think about what I have to deal with daily.


I live in the dang middle of Florida and even here I seen strange looking folk that in no way was born here.


Hell, I've even seen one come into Babel's Bullets, Bait, Bar and Bistro on a Saturday night but I lit outta there as fast as I could because I had left my pocket pistol at home so I don't know what all were about to go down.


That ain't all...


The other day I drove the Missus over to the big city and I went into  Costco and I seen women in Burqas pawing over the Rotisserie Chickens and I  had to walk behind an Indian (Dot, not feather) who did not push his cart but walked beside it dragging it along him with one hand while blocking the entire aisle. 

T'Hell is this all about?


I know'd the government said I ain't a verified native american but I was born in the back of my Daddy's Pick-up right outside of Babel's late one Friday night right after closing time.


Your admirer (who has boiling blood in his vains).  Flummoxed in Fussels Corner, Florida.


 Dear Flummoxed. ABS is not a feather or a dot. He is a man of Irish-Algonquin heritage who was born right damn here in America - unless Vermont is no longer part of the dang union.


Any person who was born in America is a Native American. Period!!!


America has got to stop letting foreigners immigrate. Period!!


If Americans want to know what life is like in other countries is, they can jump on a jet and travel there and then they can stay in some crummy hotel and wake-up in the morning and step onto an elevator to go down for breakfast and see a sign like this in the elevator - the reader will have to scroll down to see the sign boasting about ecological reasons for the food they prepare and a maitre who will force you to drink their wines...


Who needs that crap?