At some point in the not-so-distant-past, Los Angeles was the most ethnically diverse city on the planet. Still true? I dunno. I’m not with the Census Bureau smarty pants, I’m a smart-assed blogger.
Anyway, this diversity is always apparent on our roadways. Often the signs are subtle. Sometimes they hit you in the face and make you throw up in your mouth a little, but they’re always there.
First, the low hanging Fruitcakes:
I dunno if you’ve heard, but a couple of Los Angeles residents were Hecho’d En Mexico. That Mexican pride is everywhere– as is should be, for without Mexicans we would never know how delicious salt is on a drink, how long you can keep a VW running and the limits of wide brimmed hats. Gracias amigos!
And then we’ve got a couple of Russians:
How can you spot a Russian ride? Look for the bling–Russian ladies love the bling, believe me. If you don’t believe me, zoom in on Pupsik’s license plate– for that’s got more crystals than Shirley MacLaine’s nightstand. (Oh and don’t go Googling “pupsik”– it means “baby” in Russian and not in the innocent, infant sense.)
Ok, then there are our Persians:
Now I don’t speak Arabic, but I’m pretty sure that plate reads, “I Make Enzo Ferrari Cry.” Or the ever popular “Go ahead and laugh, but you’re driving a Prius.” It’s a toss up.
So while we may not all agree with how to amend our immigration laws, I think we can all agree that being American means never having to settle for a boring ride. And that’s just the way our fore fathers would’ve wanted it.
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Statistics do not tell the story of immigration. People do. Since its inception, this nation has been continually infused with the energy of newcomers. Yet their assimilation has seldom been smooth. The challenges we face today are not new. Only the stories are.
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Yet here’s where we come to a problematic assumption that is often not expressed, even though it is made by people on both sides of the immigration debate: It is highly unlikely that undocumented workers and their families will be able to live truly fruitful lives in their own countries. The realities of poverty, political oppression, economic injustice, poor education, and poor medical care, just to name a few, make it very difficult for millions upon millions of Hispanics to flourish in their homelands. Their only hope of a fruitful life is in the United States. So they come to this country, making large sacrifices and braving many dangers, because they expect a better life here. And, for the most part, if they can make it here and settle, they will have a better life . . . as will their relatives back in the homeland, who receive money from their kin in the United States.
Thank you "Just Saying". I should've known better!
Persians don't speak arabic, they speak Persian, also known as Farsi.