Not In The Mood For Hypocritical Lecturing

h/t Bayou Renaissance Man

Dear Fred: Janus, Greek god of two-faced lying hypocrisy,
called to say "J'accuse! Stop stealing my gig!"

Peter at BRM today has commended to all and sundry the latest essay by the perennially dyspeptic (and coming from me, that's saying something) King of Hypocritical Ex-patriatism (that's not a typo), Fred Reed, from his Rancho del Self-Righteousness in Shitholia-on-the-Baja (a wording we would not and did not utter at Peter's blog out of respect for his sensibilities and decorum).

To the contrary, despite peter's earnest entreaties, we will not read, quote, nor even link to the offending piece, except for the most offensive line previously excerpted at BRM:

"We are racing out of control toward some as yet dimly limned catastrophe."??

We?!?

Does Mr. Reed have a mouse in his pocket?

Has he returned from his self-imposed exile to Trashcanistan*-on-the-Baja (*this being the kinder and more printable of two names I use to describe Turd-world #&!!holes, the one that I would have chosen being one that rhymes with Spitholia)?

The one from whence he regularly lambastes us poor, ignorant boobs about how we're doing it wrong, whereas his chosen, um, Spithole having vastly better manners, healthcare, and all-around good sense than the land of his birth, (provided we leave out mentioning the endemic corruption, impending descent into Venezuelan levels of socialism, the lamprey-like relation it enjoys with us gabacho gringos, the utter dependence upon our sufferance of those pilfering predations, the hypocritical stance it takes about its own immigrants as opposed to the ones it regularly lobbies for with regard to its own native under-educated criminal thieving murdering export to America's lands, and the random appearance of bodies hanging from overpasses and heads in duffel bags or randomly scattered alongside the odd ditch down there in Paradise)?

Has Fred returned to the United States from Rancho del Self-Righteousness to breathe our air, drink our water, vote in our elections, and share in our plight as someone with skin in the game, rather than make mere occasional condescending forays up north, just long enough to tell us poor provincial boobs everything wrong with us, especially in contrast to the glories of institutionalized corruption and socialism there that makes the worst predations of Washington DC pale in comparison? And notice of which flaws in his chosen domicile by him out loud would occasion his arrest and expulsion under draconian statutes, by a kleptocracy which would regard his gibes and jaundiced eye in their direction as an invitation to expel him, or toss him in jail for a decade or so to contemplate the multitude of his political sins as foreign dissident agitator?

No? None of that has happened?
This is my shocked face.

So, it's just more "See here, you ignorant norteamericano boobs, I, wise anti-Trumper Fred, so much smarter than you, know what you should do...", i.e. The Usual Tripe, served as warmed-up leftovers?

He could invent the cure for cancer, and post the recipe on his page, and I'd sooner read the cartoon pages in the local bird-cage liner and fishwrap than waste any time on his mewling. Until he deigns to live among us, rather than extol the virtues of the Marxist utopia he's chosen, he's made his bed, let him lie in it.
And from it.

Or at least, stop the pretense that he's an American in any manner whatsoever except his passport cover, when it's convenient for him, and drop that "We" malarkey.

But let's be fair, and try out his list of grievances and usurpation, only substituting his chosen paradise and it's pecadillos, and see how much more it applies:

Overall, Mexico remains in the Third World. The one percent own most of the country while the middle class is virtually non-existent. Gringos like myself live  lives of relative luxury, compared to the peones whom we live amongst. Retirement plans and health insurance are non-existant for the natives outside that 1%. The police, crooked as a dog's hind leg since...ever, become more brutal and less accountable. Censorship intensifies. Impunity grows: Nobody went to jail for the corruption scam. Or the one before that. Or the one before that. Or the one before that. Or the one before that. Or the one before that. Etc, etc. Politicians pose in front of The Flag, trumpet democracy but do not practice it.  Surveillance quietly grows alongside duplicity, corruption, and hypocrisy: Drugs and Corrupton has been the national anthem here for forty years, and counting. It used to be just Corruption, for 150 years before that, but America's War On Drugs added a second verse, when native Mexican greed and the Latinate culture of corruption rampant from Tijuana to Tierra del Fuego are too powerful for one tiny kleptocracy to bother trying to overcome, when the profits of poisoning the parasite's host species to the north feels so much better, and pays so well. Crooked Federales, rurales, and local police, internal spying, social media recording everything we do, and now Alexa and voice-controlled televisions constantly listen in our homes, while the teeming poor just watch bonfires of burning shit chips, in their cardboard hovels in the local dump slum barrios. Civil unrest grows, with street gangs of rival cartels fighting both peons just trying to just get by without getting carved into butcher-sized hunks, corrupting every office from dog-catcher to the president, and everyone in between, and defying and murdering the two honest policemen. And now El Presidente here thinks Maduro, Hugo Chavez, and Fidel Castro got it right, which bodes poorly for this country's long-term prospects of anything but eating their pets and zoo animals, and eventually, each other, and plans to export another wave of criminals to Los Estados Unidos, as the coup de grace wherein the ticks finally suck the last drop of blood from the hound they ride on, claiming to represent illegal aliens in America as displaced citizens, while inflicting draconian punishment on anyone fleeing from points farther south.

Yeah, Freddie, write that little exercise in honesty, and see how long before you get tossed in a Mexican prison which makes San Quentin or Alcatraz seem like a pleasant Sunday picnic in the park by comparison, followed by appropriating your assets, and perhaps eventually, some years later, booting your ignorant ass and burping what's left of you back up here.
 
Like we need you, or would want you.
 
It'll never happen, of course, because you're a hypocrite, but not a stupid hypocrite, right?
 
You want to stand on foreign soil and tell us what's wrong with the United States?
Take a number and get in line, buddy.

You'll have a lot in common with the hypocrisy you find, there in line behind every citizen of other foreign shitholes (yet all clamoring and conniving to get here, legally or no, by any means possible), as well as such duplicitous whores as Madonna, Johnny Depp, George Clooney, and the thousands of whinging SJW libtard bullshitters here who promised to leave America if Trump won, yet reneged on those lies and never left, more's the pity.
 
You're number 7,000,000,003, and we're currently serving #2.