I confess I’m a little behind my time with this ... that is, considering how it’s been a couple of weeks or so since it first came to light and I’m just now getting around to harangue about it.

However, in spite of my delay I’m no less convinced it’s still worth noting, especially since there’s a pretty good chance you’re one of the millions of Americans who didn’t hear about it when it first came out and have heard little to nothing about it since.

“It,” if you will, has to do with all those thousands of Central American migrants that a few months back set off from that region of the world to come to the United States to obtain their ostensibly constitutionally-given right (our Constitution, by the way!) to their own little slice of the American Dream.

Both I and everyone else not having our blindly loyal heads up the rear end of a certain political party’s famous Jackass icon could see from afar, even with blinders on, that this migration was never simply and specifically about refugees seeking asylum from tyranny and poverty.

At least not as much as it was about most of them coming here to get every government handout their sponsor—my guess is the suddenly hypocritical, vote-seeking, and previously alluded to political party and its spineless if not plain colluding controlled opposition — promised would be awaiting them the moment they crossed the border.

As proof of this deception, at least the part about them not actually coming here to sponge off the American taxpayer but rather to seek safe haven in the land of justice and opportunity, there was this conflicting revelation a couple of weeks or so back.

After being met by border patrol and even the military and stopped in their tracks, not wanting to give up the cause, it seems two groups of these migrants changed gears a bit by going directly to the U.S. Consulate in Tijuana with another idea in mind.

One group offered a compromise of sorts, which was this: If at that point in their long-suffering quest to enter the United States the Trump administration still remained defiantly against them, thereby denying them all those untold millions of dollars, if not ultimately billions of dollars in promised government benefits, they should, at a minimum, be given $50,000 each to turn around and go home.

Another demand made at the Consulate was that the deportations cease and desist and that the process of those seeking asylum be sped up and include many more of the migrants.

A spokesman for the group visiting the Consulate said $50,000 per person was a small price for the U.S. government to pay, particularly when one considered all the riches this country allegedly plundered from his homeland of Honduras.

Plundered from Honduras, really? Wouldn’t that be akin to Bill Gates coming to yours or my house to rip-off a loaf of bread? But I digress.

The man, one Alfonso Guerro Ulloa, said the payments to each migrant would aid them in going back to their own respective countries and start a small business of some kind. And just to keep things businesslike, Ulloa’s group also presented a letter which condemned the United States for meddling in the affairs of Honduras and, as an additional conciliation, demanded that the U.S. promise that it would eventually remove Honduran President Orlando Hernandez from power.

According to the report, the letter gave the U.S. 72 hours to respond to the demands.

It was at this point that I began scratching my head in total wonderment.

After all, I reasoned to myself, no one asked them to come here in the first place. In fact, they were repeatedly warned it would be a waste of shoe leather to begin this trip, almost from the moment they stepped outside their homes and took their very first step northward.

But to demand that this country give each one of them $50,000 to turn around and go home, not to mention the demand to forcibly remove their president as an added good faith measure, all in the space of 72 hours, it should come as no surprise that I came dang near to scratching myself bald.

As I ultimately did not long after I first read this story, I again decided to simply leave all of this right here and not write another word or think another thought about it.

And if you must truly know the reason behind this decision, well, the plain truth is as simple as me not having any real desire to keep scratching until I’ve weathered away what little hair I have left.

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