“Give me your tired, your poor,” she says.
Ah, but first we must verify income and employability; we must make sure these people fit with “our way of life.” We must make sure these creatures are not leeches who steal jobs from those who really belong.
“Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,”
Make sure the huddled masses have clear lungs and negative TB tests, their HIV status is negative, and that no communicable diseases will be passed on to our current healthy, chronic-disease-free citizens.
“The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.”
But first, these wretches must fill out forms in triplicate or learn to swim. UNHCR, Homeland security and the Office of Refugee Resettlement must approve said forms. I heard that one lucky wretch has an interview before 2022.
“Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,”
Wait. What’s that you say? They’re Muslim? Muslims need not apply. And are they really that destitute? Come on! They have cell phones!
“I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
Which door? Ah! That one – the one that says ‘Trump Towers.’
And so the tired and poor, the huddled masses yearning for freedom, the wretched refuse, the homeless and displaced, the refugee turn away, eyes vacant and heads shaking, trying desperately to find another door.
And Lady Liberty bows her head and weeps.