In the uproar over Congress's proposal to actually make illegal aliens, well, illegal, I've thought about going illegal myself.
After all, if there is public sentiment that an illegal alien shouldn't be illegal, then I'm thinking maybe I'll just coast a good 20 miles over the speed limit. Yes, I would be illegally speeding, but that doesn't mean I'm illegal, does it?
Why should I pay for groceries? The act of stealing a loaf of bread may be illegal, but that doesn't make me illegal, does it?
Unless I'm missing some other element here, a core part of the argument for illegal aliens seems to be that they aren't actually illegal.
I find the whole thing confusing, to tell you the truth.
When Joni and I moved to Hungary 10 years ago we had to have our passports stamped at the border.
But that was just the beginning.
There were long lines to stand in, bureaucracy to wade through, not to mention getting poked more than the Pillsbury dough boy.
It was frustrating and wasted a lot of our time, but we did it because that was the law of the land. If we didn't, the consequence could be getting sent out of the country.
And we did all that, mind you, just to live in the country for five years.
But that was okay, we knew it came with the territory of moving to a new country, and gladly complied.
And you know what happened?
We were like little kids, so giddy when we finally received our residence permits.
It gave us no small measure of pride to have followed the process and end up with our documentation.
Just, I'm sure, as those who have immigrated to this country legally.