Tuesday, May 30, 2006


They treat it like a soccer game. That's how the reporter in this article describes it. For them, getting illegals into our country is a game. They do it just feet away from both Mexican "authorities" and the US border patrol. And... in broad daylight! How can we continue to allow these bastards to flaunt our laws, and treat our border like an amusement park turnstile?

How do our politicians have the balls to celebrate "Memorial Day"? It's supposed to be a day to remember all of those who have fallen in defense of the freedom and liberty of this country... and while they "celebrate", they continue to let this country wither and erode away under the weight of massive illegal immigration. Have they no shame?
In groups of 10 to 16, men, women and children routinely cross the border, led by brazen smugglers called polleros. It happens in broad daylight, under a blazing sun at high noon, around and through the 12-foot-high wall that Uncle Sam erected in the late 1990s.

The scene unfolds under the noses of Customs and Border Patrol agents. Once across, the immigrants dash to a warehouse parking lot, where a ride takes them to a safehouse in the Arizona border town of Nogales.


Finding smugglers is easy. At one wooden shack, more than a dozen were gathered, all talking at once on their cell phones and walkie-talkies.

The shack was a stone's throw from the Mexican government's border crossing, where an agent shooed away reporters. The smugglers also shared a joint in plain view of the authorities.

In turn, the polleros led groups of Mexicans down a trash-covered ravine to the 12-foot-high metal fence that guards the border. It's routinely blow-torched or cut to make space for passage.


"They should've gone that way," said one smuggler as he watched from the top of the canyon. There was a crowd around the rickety shack, and the men all commented and criticized the tactics of the smugglers below, as if analyzing a soccer game.

A few hours later, a Border Patrol agent in his trademark dark green outfit started walking the U.S. side of the ravine, putting an end to several hours of uninterrupted traffic.

Now it was a race back into Mexico for a group of about 16 aliens, including a mother with a daughter younger than 5. When the U.S. lawman slipped on the steep terrain, the gathered smugglers pumped their fists and cheered loudly as if someone just scored a goal.

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