Give me your tired, your poor,Uh, unless you're Mexican.
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
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But they're talking about stealing pharmaceudicals, then that would make for an interesting twist in the drug traffic patterns.
posted by filthy light thief at 10:04 PM on June 15, 2010