Although Jan Brewer, the Governor of Arizona, could not enumerate what an illegal immigrant actually looks like, we can surmise that the description does not include aging females in sensible suits with matronly hairdos. So Sonya Sotomayor should feel free to visit the Grand Canyon. Also, the entire Girl Scout National Council.
Failure to produce proof of citizenship may result in fines and jail time. If the officer is having a particularly rough afternoon, suspects may be water boarded. (It's in a little known clause tucked into the end of the bill, titled, "We Don't Torture.")
Presumably, the bill was passed because illegal immigrants are doing something much more nefarious than, say, loitering, and Arizona has a pressing need to stop whatever evil is lurking. If these people would just act like law-abiding, productive American non-illegal immigrants, then the bill would not be necessary. I suggest creating complicated derivative instruments with bad debt and selling them to pensioners. Or they could do God's work. According to Lloyd Blankfein its the same thing!
To me, this bill exemplifies the concept that underlies all government action since the Declaration of Independence. You know what I'm talking about. At the heart of important bills like this lies the cornerstone of our democracy: Paperwork.
I am so glad I don't live in Arizona because, looking nothing like Jan Brewer, I might get stopped. The situation would go something like this:
Arizona Officer: "Ma'am. May I see your paperwork?"
Me: "Kids, please stop bickering! Mommy can't hear the nice police officer!"
Arizona Officer: "Ma'am. Please show me your paperwork."
Me: "QUIET! Or I will flush your Nintendo down the toilet!
Arizona Officer: "Ma'am. I need your papers."
Me: "What papers? SHUT UP OR YOU WILL BE GROUNDED FOR A DECADE!"
Arizona Officer: "You are going to die in prison."
As you can see, paperwork is not my strong point.
One might assume that like all non-illegal immigrants, I keep my documentation in a special, obvious place where it can be accessed at a moment's notice. Like a Safe Deposit Box.
One would be wrong.
Possibly, it is crammed in one of the moldy boxes in the attic. I can't be sure. What I do know for certain is that I no longer have the Safe Deposit Box key and the mice made Christmas dinner out of most of the boxes in the attic.
While the left and the right shout rhetoric about liberty and racial profiling and the constitution, the mothers of Arizona will be rifling through boxes of paperwork. Myself, I will begin the search for the Safe Deposit Key and pray that the mice did not shred my birth certificate. And at Halloween this year I'll be sure to dress as Jan Brewer and not Che Guevera.
God Bless America!
