Omg. I awakened this morning thinking of
an old MAD magazine parody from my youth:
Give me your tired, your poor
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free
The wretched refuse from your teeming shore
And I’ll send ‘em right back
Send ‘em right back to you!
Your huddled masses
Your wretched refuse!
I’ll send them right back to you!
I think it was a Goldwater parody or maybe Agnew. Hair Furor or his deputy dog Miller must have internalized it a long time ago.
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