It was a Sunday morning, a bright Sunday morning. The sun was shining everywhere, everywhere except through the windows of the new refugee camp in Ahwatukee, Arizona. With curtains drawn tight, no light could get in, and no truth will get out except for the single sentence the security guard said to me. "Don't worry sir," he said, "it's paid for." I looked at him and thought "damn right it's paid for. It's paid for by me, it's paid for by my kids, and it's paid for my grandchildren, and their grandchildren.
Later, I drove through a homeless camp in the middle of Phoenix. Victims of China’s fentanyl war on the U.S. wander the streets like zombies. I couldn’t help thinking that they were flooding us with drugs and people and we are getting swallowed up. I had to ask myself how soon would we be living in a third world country. And come on- that is not hyperbole. We are already living in a Banana Republic, aren’t we...
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