It’s always odd to have a note duct-taped to your door, and even odder when it’s not about your car blocking someone’s driveway. So it was quite strange to find this morning that someone had taken issue with the “Refugees are Welcome Here” sign we’ve had posted inside our porch for a couple weeks.
“Terrific!!!,” the note began, although I’m not certain the writer was really as enthusiastic as the three exclamation points suggested. “But just so we’re clear: For every ‘refugee’ that you ‘welcome’ you will bear sole responsibility for their welfare, correct? The cost of the welfare, healthcare, food stamps and free education they will receive will come directly from your pocket, correct?”
Sure, my pocket and those of other taxpayers–just like my taxes pay for nuclear weapons and federal executions and other things that my courageous (though notably anonymous) correspondent probably adores but I could do without.
“And CERTAINLY, you are offering that they may stay with you in your house until they sort their life out. Yes??” the note continued, the double question marks indicating that this is a really important question (the answer to which is, sure, we’d temporarily house people referred by an agency; why else do you think we spent $18 on the sign?).
“I didn’t think so. Put your money where your mouth is.” Then there’s a quote from Margaret Thatcher: “The problem with socialism is that you eventually run out of other people’s money.” And finally a shout-out to the Donald: “Trump 2016!”
Leaving aside the comical irony of the oft-bankrupted Donald Trump’s name being associated with a critique of using other people’s money, why publicize the work of a person who tapes a note to my door?
Well, because it permits me to engage in the same guilt by association that would permit a presidential candidate to suggest our country should bar virtually all Muslims from entering. To wit: Now I know who stole the flowers out of our tree bed, made off with that nice galvanized trash can and is responsible for the unbelievable amount of (presumably dog) poop on the block. It’s this guy, with the printer, the duct-tape and the heart of stone. Or, who knows, maybe it’s Donald Trump himself.
Either way, the streets of Norwood are apparently way sketchier than I thought.