When we get a little husky.

As many of you who know me know, if I'm not out running Alaskan steppes with a pack of rabid arctic wolves, I'm jumping back and forth across the Iberian strait with Siberian Husky pups to give them a taste of Democracy our way, then jumping them back to Russia.

Sarita and I never really discussed our views on immigration and what not, but one thing she didn't approve of was me stealing the children of these ice dogs to bring them to America, then taking them back afterwards.

Above all else, she was scared about what it might do to the dog's psyche, since once they got here, they ate less, smoked more cigarettes, and became these radical individualists who were obviously unhappy in their selfishness, but thought people with real connections--and folks that measure themselves not by how much money they have but the relationships they build with the people around them--were unhappier, just better at hiding it.

We both agreed that this was no way to be raising the youth--with so much bitterness about your own failures you can't believe someone else being successful at it--so to keep me from tempting myself with more Canis familiarisal kidnapping, I called my cousins of the Indo-African populations along the Caribbean coast of Mexico, whose ancestors were of Japanese descent, living in Arizona and proud members of the Minute Men--NOT to be confused with the red-coat shooting, tea in Boston Harbor dumping, snuff sniffing Minute Men of the American Revolution, and had them help protect our North-Western border from these ice-water crossing, job-stealing canine.