Saturday, March 5, 2011

Safe on the Border of Mexico

You know it is safe on the Border towns of Mexico when you read this story. 


The farther south Bart drove, the more worried he became.  He sold 1,000 Mexican steers to a feedyard and they insisted he had to be at the border when the cattle were crossed.  His concern was that with all of the recent border violence, combined with his innate ability to be at the wrong spot at the right time for a disaster, it was likely something really bad was going to happen to him. 
By the time he reached the border town, Bart was as nervous as a deer on a firing range.  With his survival instincts at a fever pitch, he astutely checked into a motel with an adjoining restaurant that was farthermost from the border.  And with a bunker mentality that rivaled Hitler's, Bart vowed that after he had dinner, he was going to seclude himself in his room for the night.  While eating, he struck up a conversation with a guy at the next table. 
"You ever think about moving to a safer place to live?" Bart asked. 
The man replied, "A lot of what you see on the news is exaggeration.  It's just not that bad down here.  My wife and I live in a nice neighborhood, our kids go to excellent schools, and we have good jobs." 
Greatly relieved, Bart asked, "What do you do here?" 
The guy answered, "I'm the tail gunner on a Budweiser truck."

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