William’s blog: The Mac Manifesto
by William Mac
Sept. 16, 2007
Like most people in this country I was opposed towards the very notion that there may be a North American Union. The possibility that America’s, Canada’s, and Mexico’s leaders could be conspiring in secret behind the great curtains of government caused me to squirm in my sleep and count down the hours until Democracy was destroyed and Big Brother took its place. It all seemed so horrific, so tyrannical, and so unnecessary. I thought about what would happen to the constitution, I thought about the dangers of centralized power… I thought about all of the bad and damaging things that could possibly come with a North American Union such as a one money system, the loss of America’s identity, and so on. Yet, now I just think it’s a damn good idea.
A few weeks ago an old friend of mine called me up, his name is Hugo. He was bringing over his new friend – who’s name I can’t remember. When they arrived Hugo and his friend stepped out of a beat up Toyota Corolla. I immediately noticed that Hugo was with an ex-convict due to the tear tattoo under his left eye. I asked him how long he’d been out, but he didn’t speak English very well so Hugo translated, “long time,” he said, “it back in L.A I in jail for” he concluded. Hugo and his friend are from Mexico. I went to Middle School and High School with Hugo and he lives very near my house still to this day. The reason Hugo and his friend had come over to my house early that evening was to show me their hefty sized bag of blow…which I was fine with. People do blow, and they’re perfectly respectable people, and I was going to sit down with them for an hour and partake just the same.
I offered Hugo and his friend a glass of Brandy; after all, I pride myself on being a good host. After we all sat down quietly around the dining room table, and as the crickets began to chirp in the now cooling Southern air, Hugo, his friend, and I took a car key and dipped it into the bag and breathed in the white dust in small amounts. After the piggish snorting sound resided, and everyone took a sip of their brandy, I began to bring up an issue that I always enjoy bringing up around Latinos: immigration. What better way to get to the roots of any problem in America than to talk to the people that are affected by it most?
I explained to Hugo and his ex-con friend that it was extremely hard for me, and many others, to figure out exactly what kind of stance to take on the issue of immigration. On one end of the spectrum I would like to simply say “get out” and be done with it, yet on the other end I know that such an action is no way to solve a problem. Hugo, who was born in Mexico and traveled across the border with his parents around the age of 3, and his friend who had come across the border himself in his mid teens, agreed with me that the issue was indeed a difficult one to solve. As the conversation progressed I continued to express my desire for some kind of logical solution to the problem, and Hugo translated my thoughts periodically to his friend, and again translated his friend’s thoughts back to me. “He’s good opinions,” said Hugo’s friend in broken English. “No gringos talk this much about immigration with us, and none of them try to understand nothing… they just get angry,” he paused in reflection, took a sip of Brandy, and said sincerely “but, even though I love Mexico it is still poor and no nothing there for anyone, so have to come here, I just want to be happy.”
Both of my guests expressed to me that they wanted Social Security cards. They explained the situation as though if only a Social Security card could be obtained, then their lives would be complete. But, I took the conversation along a different rout. I began asking what could be done in order make Mexico more desirable to live in. “If Mexico was a better place,” I said “then no one would want to leave so badly.” My guests began explaining to me about the drug cartels, the lack of a middle class, the corrupt presidents and police, and how they know much of the U.S Government aids in furthering these problems by making deals with the cartels.
As we all paused for a moment to inhale yet another small amount of the White Lady, take a sip of brandy, and listen for the crickets… it dawned on me; if a North American Union was to be created, perhaps this whole issue could be solved. I brought this up to break the contemplative silence of us all. I explained that perhaps if Mexicans could travel freely to America and Americans could travel just as freely to Mexico, and there was one money system… then Mexico would perhaps begin to prosper. If Mexico began to prosper, and people could travel between borders just fine… then there would be no major immigration issues, and both countries could benefit. What was I saying though? I was entirely against the North American Union, or so I thought. “Then maybe all the gringos want to come to Mexico!” laughed my new Mexican ex-con friend.
After spending an hour and a half in what has become one of the most relaxing and enlightening conversations I have ever had, I bid my guests goodbye. I sat down on my porch and lit a cigarette and began to go over the reasons as to why I was so against a North American Union. After the conversation, the whole concept of a North American Union just seemed like it would make things easier, and would solve a lot of problems. Sure, there would be dangers. The government and corporations would no doubt attempt to exert more economic and social control over us as citizens… but as always it is our job as citizens to combat such tyranny. And, hell, with a major issue like immigration out of the way, we could concentrate on preventing tyranny as a greater majority and as closer brethren. If we could handle this right, I thought to myself, then a North American Union could be very good for all of us, and could make life in this continent much more simple. Besides, I concluded, I’ve been wanting to make a trip down to Mexico for a long time, but I keep forgetting to get a passport.