I am America (and so can you!) (115 page)

If we really want to get rid of these occupational interlopers, I say we give them the jobs
nobody
wants to do. Here are a few American jobs that will have them packing their piñatas in no time:

•

Pottery Teacher:
Feel like throwing yourself in front of a train?

Throw a pot instead! The one word that will best describe your

students is “desperate-middle-aged-woman-looking-for-a-creativeoutlet-after-the-divorce.” A word that won’t describe them, however, is “talented.” There are only so many ways of patiently asking “What
This was supposed to
be a plate.

are you trying to make?” before you finally snap and use the kiln to cook a car battery.

•

High School Guidance Counselor:
5 You wake up every morning thinking “If I’m so good at finding careers, how did I end up with this one?” At least you’re not the Vice Principal.

•

Bass Player:
It’s like you made a poorly worded deal with the devil to be a rock star. Instead of fame, fortune and groupies, you stand
Your groupies:

Pottery students.

in the shadows plucking one note for 90 minutes while the lead

singer picks out a trio of coeds from the front row for a post-show pansexual trapeze act. Even worse, you’re expected to room with the drummer.

USEFUL WORD: Xenophobia, n., a fear of foreigners. Not a fear of Warrior Princesses. (Note: Not crazy about Warrior Princesses either. I like my damsels helpless and in a tower. Thanks, but I’ll do the fighting, gals.) I’M NOT A MONSTER: Let’s face it—people in other countries lead horrible, pointless lives filled with hardship and strange brand names for their snack crackers.

5
My guidance counselor told me to follow my dreams, but it’s hard to get a job as a dragonfly.
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You will never hear me criticize the Statue of Liberty. You can’t get more American than her—that’s why the French gave her up.

I can, however, criticize poetry. Just look at this item I saw in the
New York Sun.

Misprint Is Spied In Lazarus Poem At Liberty Island

BY GARY SHAPIRO— Staff Reporter of the Sun

December 8, 2006

There appears to be an error on the bronze plaque inside the pedestal
of the Statue of Liberty, inscribed with the famous sonnet “The New
Colossus” by Emma Lazarus.

Lazarus’s poem contains the immortal lines: “ ‘Give me your tired,
your poor, / Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, / The
wretched refuse of your teeming shore.’” Just prior to these lines on
the plaque are inscribed the following lines: “ ‘Keep ancient lands,
The Old Colossus

your storied pomp!’ cries she / With silent lips.” But in the hand-
written manuscript for a collection of poems that Lazarus compiled
in 1886, a year before her death, the phrase “ancient lands” is set off
by commas: “ ‘Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!’ ”

Whatever happened to the old adage, “Copy edit twice, cast in bronze once”? Now we’ve spent 120 years thinking our “pomp” should be keeping

“ancient lands,” instead of “ancient lands” keeping our “pomp”! That changes
everything
.

Up till now, this poem has always been interpreted to mean that we should throw our arms wide open to every Dutch Boy who wants to paddle his bong across the Atlantic.

But with the discovery of this error, who knows what in the hell Lazarus meant to say? Maybe there are other manuscripts of the poem out there with all different punctuation. Different words, even. There’s no certainty
186

anymore whether this statue was intended to be welcoming to immigrants at all. Maybe that torch isn’t meant to be a beacon, but a searchlight to make it easier for the INS to spot people sneaking over the border.

I say, let’s use this opportunity to replace the error-filled, unverifiable and troublesome Lazarus poem with something a little more in tune with the times. Something that’s impossible to punctuate incorrectly.

A C H A N C E F O R AV E R AG E A M E R I C A N S TO AG R E E W I T H W H AT I T H I N K

Woooo! Hey, remember me from the Sports Chapter? Chevron

—The Gas with Techron! Shut up Deb, I know this guy.

Anyway, I heard there was a job opening in this chapter,

and frankly, I could use the work, what with all the Speedo

Gonzaleses out in front of the Home Depot snatching up my

construction jobs.

Let me tell you what illegal immigration has done to us

guys in drywall—Hold up. They’re doing the National Anthem.

The Guy Sitting Next

Deb, what are you doin’? You gotta stand up. Because it’s the

to You At The Stadium

fucking National Anthem, that’s why. Show some respect.

Jesus fuck, Deb.

O the ramparts we watched, were so gallingly streaming! And the rocket’s red
glaaaare! Woooooooooooo!

The bomb bursting out there, came truth with the night that our hmm-hmm who
cares?!

Put your hand over your heart, Deb. Your
heart
. It’s the thumpy thing under that left rosin bag of yours.

O THE LAND OF THE FREEEEE!!!
It’s go time!
AND THE HOOOOME… OF

THE… BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE!

PLAY GODDAMN BALL! Let’s fucking DO this! WooooooHOOOOOOOOOO!

You can sit down, Deb.

Those guys down on the field, they gotta go out and earn it every day. Your average drops below .200, they kick your ass right down to the minors. Same with America. If we let our average go down too low, I mean our average of real Americans, we’ll end up like some minor league country, like Mexico or Guatelahala. That’s what chuffs me about foreigners. They’re bringin’ our stats down.

Yo! Beer guy! Hey! Two beers here! Two
apiece
! Alright. Pass ’em this way. Keep

’em moving, keep ’em moving. Hey dipshit! Want to get your thumb out of my brew?

Deb, drink yours quick. We’ll do these now and then I’ll go pick up some more between innings. Chug-a-fuckin’-lug.

Here’s the exception. See who we got pitching today? Gutierrez. Hell of an arm. He can throw a ball of fucking
fire
. He’s doing something
positive
for society. Hell, we should bring over his whole family on a raft and stick ’em right into Spring Training. WHAT!? Come ooooonnnnnn—I could see that was a strike from up here! Eat some carrots, ump! You weak-eyed pussy fag fuck! BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Come on, Deb. BOOOOOOOOOOO! That’s it, baby.

Shit, yeah!
That was a
sweet
grab. Right out of the vines. You know, couple years ago, I had my doubts about some of these Asian guys they brought over from the Orient. But that Matsumoto bastard is like a ninja in center field. He’d make a solid citizen.

Popped him UP! Popped-him-the-fuck up! Nice inning. That’s what I like to see. Bingboop de-doop. Threeup, threedown. Way to go, Gutierrez! Give that man a green card!

Be back with nachos.

They were out of nachos, so I got four more beers. Hey Deb, what did I miss?

Well you’d know if you weren’t yakkin’ on that phone all the time. Was it Trish? I just
guessed
. You talk to her every fucking second, Deb. I’m not thinkin’ about her, I just
guessed
. Jeez…

Come on, Gutierrez! Just like last inning—three up, three down! You the man! You the…Oh shit. Go foul…No…GO FOUL! Go the FUCK foul! God
Dammit!

Hey, GUTIERREZ! Go back to Mexico, YOU PUSSY-ARMED CHILI-SHITTIN’ FUCK!

Who they puttin’ in? Sanchez? Alright! A Dominican. Those guys can
play
. Let’s fucking do this, amigo! Woooooooooooooooooo!