(September 16, 2015 at 5:43 am)pocaracas Wrote: Today, on the Onion:
Quote:Hundreds of immigrants crossing into Europe from Africa and the Middle East have risked injury and death seeking a new life for their families. Here is the step-by-step process by which they emigrate and the hardships they face on their journey:
Step 1: Families make spur-of-the-moment decision to leave behind the opportunity, safety, creature comforts, and overall happy existence in their native land to mooch off resources of European governments
Step 2: Pack a few granola bars and a bottle of water for the long trip
Step 3: Human traffickers assure group of immigrants that boat carrying them across Mediterranean is meant to hold this many people
Step 4: Scare the shit out of some sunbathers on a Greek beach
Step 5: Arriving refugees fill out one-part questionnaire on whether they intend to destroy Europe
Step 6: Trudging
Step 7: Migrants blend in by joining a protest disparaging their ethnicity and culture
Step 8: Hightail it through Hungary as quickly as possible
Step 9: Parents traveling with young children repeatedly assure themselves kids’ long-term memory capacity hasn’t kicked in yet
Step 10: Angela Merkel bestows each migrant with their new German name
Step 11: Migrants who fled Islamic terrorists decide to just go ahead and become Islamic terrorists in new country
Loved step 11!
I know the article is being funny, but why would you think this isn't being used as opportunity to plant terrorists everywhere? Or that these people will integrate into society at all? Or that less then 20% are islamists?
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
