It seems the aforementioned blogger grew increasingly agitated and fearful as the May 1, 2006 boycott in support of illegal alien amnesty unfolded. As the day progressed he descended further into madness. The following transcript provides a chilling document of one man's attempts to endure a "day without a Mexican." Let it stand as a warning to us all.
Not much time just wanted to let you know I'm still alive excuse the lack of punctuation must be quick conserve energy--electricity could go any minute no evidence yet of massive social upheaval--it's quiet, too, too quiet--wait a moment I think I heard something I've got to go. Courage, friends.
Still no sign and you know that's always a bad sign, used reciprocating saw (somehow managed to figure it out despite no illegal immigrant help) to carve an escape hatch in ceiling so we can escape directly to roof when the fit hits the shan, if you know what I mean, does anyone out there know Morse code? Will return later, if it's safe
trying to cook for myself with my soft pale white hands, bruised and blistered from doing my own yardwork (how do they survive this superhuman physical labor? are they even mortal?) can't figure out how to get the food from the cylindrical metal thing the Capable Ones call "can" am madly beating it against the floor, no use, I think I've injured myself will return later once I've stopped this bleeding
scattered Microsoft yuppies appearing disoriented by hunger no doubt due to the closure of area's upscale restaurants are wandering outside it's only a matter of time before a leader emerges among and organizes them for an attack on the house must find higher ground easier to defend
Have vanquished the neighbors from their home didn’t want to do it but it was either them or us and this fifty two inch plasma tv is amazing blood everywhere oh my God the horror, yet I’ve never felt so alive
have figured out how to make the Capable Ones return when they see the altar I’ve created for them and the offerings we will make they will surely take pity on us and accept our sacrifices must go have finally cornered the cat he seems to understand what is happening
I realize now that to bring back the Capable Ones I must gather together their mysterious devices and place them at the altar; the enchanted hole making staff, or “shovel”; the grass leveler, the magic spinning weed-scepter, the roaring wind maker; our housekeeper Maria’s magic garment that she uses for the ritual of the dish reclamation and her mysterious carpet broom; atop the monument I have created I place the sustenance producing “can” and waving the pelt of our sacrificed cat over and over I repeat the incantation I heard the Capables using: si se puede, si se puede, si se puede
My God what have I become?
why have you forsaken us, oh you brave masters of nature's unruly overgrowth, oh you illuminati of the gastronomic? Why such harsh retribution? please return and banish the endless toil and pain we have beasts and virgins and treasure we offer you, yes, amnistia!