2/29/16 God Help Us!

“God help us if Donald Trump gets elected president!,” said many.

“God help us if Hillary Clinton gets elected president!” said many others.

“God help us if Bernie Sanders gets elected president!” said yet others.

“God help us if Ted Cruz gets elected president!” said yet some others.

“God help us if Marco Rubio gets elected president!” said still yet others.

“God help us if the Democrats have a brokered convention and Jod Biden gets the nomination!” said others, yet.

“God help us if the Republicans have a brokered convention and Mitt Romney gets the nomination,” said others still, yet.

“God help us if another Ruth Bader-Ginsberg gets nominated and confirmed to the Supreme Court,” said some.

“God help us if another Antonin Scalia gets appointed and confirmed to the Supreme Court,” said many others.

“I’m leaving the country if Trump gets elected,” said some, likely those wealthy enough to be accepted into the country of their choosing, for though Europe’s borders seem open to anyone wanting to come in, Americans will not likely get the same welcome unless they are wealthy celebrities, and it is not likely the soon-to-be-ex-patriot is thinking of Bangladesh, Papua New Guinea, Somalia, or Zimbabwe.

“I’m leaving the country if Clinton gets elected,” said some others, likely those wealthy enough to be accepted into the country of their choosing, for though Europe’s borders seem open to anyone wanting to come in, Americans will not likely get the same welcome unless they are wealthy celebrities, and it is not likely the soon-to-be-ex-patriot is thinking of Central African Republic, Myanmar, Haiti, or Guyana.

“I’m leaving the country if Sanders gets elected,” said yet some others, those likely wealthy enough to be accepted into the country of their choosing, for though Europe’s borders seem open to anyone wanting to come in, Americans will not likely get the same welcome unless they are wealthy celebrities, and it is not likely the soon-to-be-ex-patriot is thinking of Angola, Malawi, Chad, or Mali.

“I’m leaving the country if I don’t get elected,” might have said Cruz and Rubio, neither of them likely thinking about their ancestral Cuba, though Cruz might likely think of his Canada birthplace. If so, I hope he has better luck than a couple of certain friends of mine.

One friend wanted to leave the country when Jimmy Carter got elected. He wanted to go to Scotland. He was told by the UK authorities that he had to post a half-million US Dollar bond to emigrate to Scotland, which would be used to support him in his old age or if he became infirm earlier, so that he would not be a drain on national resources not meant for emigres. Things may have changed since then. He should check back.

I had another friend who tried to move to Canada after George Bush (43) got re-elected. The Canadians sent him back, refusing to consider him and his small U-Haul trailer for a single instant. No amount of rationalization, pleading, or begging would move them to let him in. Perhaps he should change his name to Mohammed abu-al-Anwar and see if the Junior Trudeau will welcome him to Canada now. Things may be different,

I know some people who are trying to leave Mississippi. They can’t afford to stay here, they say, nor can they afford to leave. I told them that they should try Europe, and Scandinavia in particular, as things seem to be free and clear for emigrating there, with free food and housing furnished for recent emigres. They said they’d rather move to Alabama, which is only four miles away from where they live now, which is hardly like moving at all. The place they had wanted to move to was even on the same road.

“Why don’t you just stay where you are?” I asked them.

“Car tags are cheaper in Alabama,’ they said.

“How much cheaper on a sixteen year old car like the one you’re driving now?” I asked.

“Fourteen dollars,” was the reply.

“Well, you’ll spend that fourteen dollars on your first fifth of whiskey and pack of cigarettes in Alabama, with their state run stores and their sin taxes,” I warned.

“I never thought about that,” was the reply.

“Car tags, cigarettes, AND liquor are cheaper in Louisiana,” I said. “And if you move to, say…Ville Platte or Eunice, where they speak a lot of Cajun French, it’ll almost be like living in Europe. They’ve got casinos and lottery tickets there, too.”

“Say! That’s sounds like a good idea.”

I haven’t seen them in a while now. I drove by the other day and their trailer was empty. I think they must have moved to Ville Platte. They should have taken their dogs with them. They were a mangy looking lot. Thin, too. The dogs, I mean.

Some people just can’t be satisfied.

God help us if Whoopi Goldberg leaves the country. God help us if Raven Simone leaves the country. God help us if my unnamed friend previously mentioned leaves the country. I haven’t seen him since he told me his plans for exit if Bush43 were re-elected. I know the Canadians kicked him out and he is still here, but if he weren’t, I’m not so sure I would call on God to help me with that. I probably wouldn’t have bothered God with something so trivial, particularly since I would not have noticed his absence.

God help us when everyone leaves the country for greener, freer pastures, leaving nothing here but pastures overgrown with goldenrod, bitter-weeds, and saw-briers. I doubt that, though. We are here, and people are clamoring to get here from all parts of the globe. If we left, there’d be even more wanting in. Maybe, though, we can all move to Uruguay. Some refugees were recently placed in Uruguay, and apparently treated with all the largess the Uruguayans could afford, which they furnished with pride, all of which the refugees ungratefully decried as sub-standard, demanding to be moved to a better grade of country, perhaps one with air-conditioning. No third-worlder is apparently willing to be moved to a sub-standard country. The Uruguayans were justifiably peeved about this. I would have been, too. It’s sort of like the houseguest in your home pooh-poohing the guest bedroom, demanding the master bedroom instead. Motel 6 is not what they had in mind. The Waldorf, of course, is the least one can be expected to endure. We must have marble, not linoleum.

Everyone wants a better life. I don’t reckon anyone ever started out with the goal, “I want to have a worse life than my parents. I want a decline in living standards. I want less money, less satisfaction, poorer health-care, and more stress.” That seems to be what many are getting anyway, some of them in spite of advanced education.

Maybe we should just ask God to help us without putting qualifiers on the request. Some might even be better off if they left their god out of it altogether. Some might think that of me. Some may think I should leave the country. I was thinking, perhaps, of El Salvador. Maybe Guatemala. Perhaps The Sudan. Some think my Mississippi is similar to those places. I’ve never been to any of them, but I have met some Guatemalans and El Salvadorans who have emigrated to Mississippi, and they seem to like it here just fine. I hope they find success and happiness here. Many have. Many will continue to do so. Others…well, others will move to Alabama. Perhaps, Louisiana. Both of them are fine, too. I lived in Louisiana twice. I loved it there. But then, again, I love it here. It could be that I would love nearly any place I lived, unless it were some of those place the celebrities also do not have on their list of possible new homes. Alabama? Alabama would be just fine. I like Alabama. The grass seems greener in Alabama. It is a beautiful state with warm and gracious people.

The cows looked over the fence at the grass. It seemed greener. It seemed much greener. It had to be sweeter than the grass on their side of the fence. They yearned and yearned until, eventually, they learned that the few strands of barbed wire cannot keep eight-hundred pound cows contained. They became regular fence busters over that greener, sweeter grass.

The frustrated farmer loaded them all up and hauled them to the stockyard. When the check came from the sale, it was from a huge mid-west beef packing plant. If the grass was sweeter, the only remnant of its sweetness was a satisfying flavor lingering on the palates of those who had beef for dinner.

God help us all to read more and stop watching TV reality shows, constantly watching political punditry shows, and listening to music created by formulaic machines. A book, any book, is a mind expander. Green screen movies and TV shows sap every bit of your imagination.

If Kanye West gets elected, I’m definitely leaving the country,

Thanks, Rocky Higginbotham, for the inspiration,

©2016 Mississippi Chris Sharp

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