Ain’t got no papers on myself

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One of the great albums from the late sixties was Forever Changes by Love, and this is one of the great songs from that great album.


There are quite a few other great songs on the album, but this one seems particularly relevant in the world we currently find ourselves stumbling through, with a maniacal sociopath in the White House, surrounded by his hand-picked deplorable bunch of desperate wanker whackers.

Do you have your papers in order? I’m not talking about you immigrants, I’m talking about people born in the USA. What are you gonna do when ICE personnel swoop in on some food cart and start checking to see if everyone is legal? 

Admit it. You thought that all those Repugnicunt efforts to require photo ID or other proof of identity to vote was just to make it difficult for people you don’t really give a shit about to exercise their inalienable right to choose how they are governed. It wasn’t. The real intention was to normalize the concept of having to produce identification upon demand by whatever authority happens to ask you for it.

The Repugnicunt war on freedom of movement and thought has been doubling down in recent weeks, and coming soon to a business or venue near you is the impact of one or more of Donnie Dumbo’s executive orders to make America greatly safe or safely grate again.

Remember, in the current climate, the authorities only have to suspect that you are not in the country illegally to detain you. Being a citizen is no excuse for not complying with official requests that you produce your papers. In fact, Repugnicunt state legislators are hard at work making it easier to imprison people simply for protesting their government.

Of course, many people, like Arthur Lee, don’t carry around any papers to prove their citizenship. A driver’s license, a student ID, an employee badge? Are these valid proof of citizenship? I don’t think so. Homey don’t play that.

Think about it the next time you’re standing on the street corner waiting for a bus and an official vehicle pulls up to the curb and someone calls out the window: “Sir (or madam), can I have a word with you?”

It might be time to kiss your naive ass goodbye.

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