Askari Rey


May 2015

Alan Keyes On Open Borders

How can you argue with this argument? Allow enough Mexicans to crash in your country and it’s only a matter of time before your country is indistinguishable from Mexico. Achieving citizenship in a first-rate nation should be like gaining entrance to a high-end nightclub: You have to make it past the bouncers at the borders.


Adam Carolla Solves Gridlock

Carolla has an interesting solution to L.A.’s traffic dilemma at 3:15 of this video.

For most of my life I’ve lived in rural Illinois where waiting at a stoplight for more than 30 seconds constitutes a traffic jam. Moving to Chicago was a big adjustment. Work is 14 miles away, but my morning commute is normally 40 minutes long. Two weeks ago a construction site appeared smack-dab in the middle of the busiest intersection on my route to the office adding another ten minutes to the trip. The sheer amount of drivers on the road guarantees gridlock. Throw accidents, construction, inept drivers, broken traffic lights and bad weather into the mix and it’s game over, Johnny.

Yesterday I was driving down Cicero Avenue at a turtle’s pace when I decided that I would gladly pay five hundred dollars a year for access to premium, light traffic lanes. Easily. I would buy access to premium lanes without hesitation if the purchase came with a guarantee of significantly reducing my commute. I doubt I’m alone. Premium lanes would be a big hit for people who have a shortage of time and a surplus of income. Ten thousand dollars would buy you a year-long-pass on the ultra premium lanes where Richard Brandson and Mark Zuckerburg race each other to work as Adam Carolla discusses in video clip I linked to.

Unfortunately, I don’t think premium lanes will be available soon. Time to download section two of Pimsleur Spanish. If I have to bob and weave among the unwashed masses, I might as well learn a foreign language while I do it.

Who Has Time To Be A Hero?

I work as a door-to-door salesman in rough Chicago neighborhoods. Part of my job is interacting with people I consider to be abusive and degenerate. I usually don’t express my negative opinions. Scolding people for their lack of character is generally pointless, because confrontations rarely inspire evildoers to stop hurting people.

Rodell gives me a guided tour of his dog cages and fighting pit. I simply nod and say “that’s interesting”. I do not tell him that people who force pit bulls to fight to the death give me the creeps. That would be worse than pointless. Rodell would waste my time telling me why I’m wrong. My condemnation might spoil our rapport, blowing the sale out of the water. I don’t tell Dashanique that it bothers me when she calls her four-year-old son a little nigga. I pretend I don’t hear her.

Nothing sort of stomach-turning moral revulsion will make me turn my back on a paying customer. I’m talking about the kind of situation where I leave for fear that if I don’t, I may not be able to control myself, lashing out in violence. This happened twice.

I was in University Park (I know that’s not the city) putting the finishing touches on a sale when my customer asked me if I wanted to have sex with her daughter, Tracy. Tracy was a teenage-looking, black albino girl with a severe speech impediment. I felt shocked. It took a while for my brain to register what I was hearing. Tracy’s mother was going on and on about how Tracy “couldn’t get no dick” because she was a freak. Tracy’s three small brothers, along with her father, were mocking her. They said, “Goddamn, Tracy. Don’t nobody want yo ass! Not even the door-to-door guy will fuck you! Hahaha!” I felt sick. Tracy’s mother must have asked me three times if I would care to take her daughters virginity. When I said no, no and no, Tracy snuck over and whispered in my ear, “Why don’t you like me?” I returned the credit card and left without speaking.

I walked out  on  another sale when a woman in South Holland (I know that’s not the city either) began punching her down syndrome afflicted son in the face over and over again because he wasn’t cleaning the coffee table well enough.

I hope everything turns out okay for these kids. That’s about all that I do, though. I don’t have time to be a hero. I’m just a salesman.

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