Border Buddy Quotes

Buddy when he come back from up in the panhandle told me one time it quit blowin up there and all the chickens fell over.

Growing up with migrant workers, I knew that they usually worked harder than we did. Sometimes my dad and my uncles would hire a few of my buddies from school to help with the harvest or the branding; they would last maybe a day or two and were often unreliable. But our Mexican migrant laborers worked hard, and we could count on them. Because of this experience, I have always said that I could never look at these migrants and consider them criminals. They were working to feed their families, and we simply could not have gotten along without them. So when during the 2016 campaign Jeb Bush committed a sin of candor by saying that people crossing the border did it as an act of love, well, that’s exactly how I felt, too. And I said so at the time. Having grown up with migrant labor and with the Hispanic community that was here long before we were, I knew that what Jeb Bush was saying was true. Among those who were raised in rural Arizona, it is much more difficult to summon the vitriol for immigrants that fuels so much of the politics in the age of Trump. Of course, Jeb Bush was savaged for saying what he said, just mocked mercilessly. But then, unlike his critics, he knew what he was talking about and dared to speak truthfully, which is both a rarity and liability these days. We have to return to the politics of comity and inclusion and reject the politics of xenophobia and demonization.

got to know quite a few politicians. They were a pretty lively bunch, no more or less corrupt than schoolteachers, newspaper reporters, cops, or doctors. Anyway, it didn’t take much exposure to politics for me to realize that there are as many nuts on the left as there are on the right, and in the long run, the lefties are probably more dangerous. But in the short run, if you find a guy on top of your hometown clock tower with a cheap Chinese semiauto assault-weapon lookalike, that guy will be one of Corbeil’s buddies, dreaming of black helicopters and socialist tanks massing on the Canadian border, preparing to pollute America’s vital fluids.

We got bubkes,” he said. “We’re still running down an out-of-state plate in California and one up in British Columbia. We’re making nice to our buddies across the border.

A sardarji comes up to the Pakistan border on his bike. He's got two large bags over his shoulders. The guard Iqbal stops him and says, 'What's in the bags?' 'Sand,' answered the Sardarji. Iqbal says, 'We'll just see about that. Get off the bike.' Iqbal's guard takes the bags and rips them apart, he empties them out and finds nothing in them but sand. He detains the sardarji all night and has the sand analyzed, only to discover that there is nothing but pure sand in the bags. Iqbal releases the sardaji, puts the sand into new bags, hefts them onto the sardarji's shoulders, and lets him cross the border. A week later, the same thing happens. Iqbal asks, 'What have you got?' 'Sand,' says the Sardarji. Iqbal does his thorough examination and discovers that the bags contain nothing but sand. He gives the sand back to the Sardar, and crosses the border on his bike. This sequence of events is repeated every day for three years. Finally, the Sardarji doesn't show up one day and the guard, Iqbal, meets him in a 'Dhaba' in Islamabad. 'Hey, Buddy,' says Iqbal, 'I know you are smuggling something. It's driving me crazy. It's all I think about...I can't sleep. Just between you and me, what are you smuggling?' The Sardaji, sips his Lassi and says, 'Bikes