Greetings, Dear Reader,
I must issue profuse and enthusiastic apologies to start.
I failed to make you aware of my travel and thus I’m sure my musings went severely missed. I’m sure you were all near apoplectic to not see me in your inbox. I’m sure many of you phoned the authorities in abject anxiety.
Yes, I have been gone for nearly two weeks. It’s been almost three years since I last took a family vacation.
It was long overdue.
But in my excitement, I failed to give you a heads up. For that, I apologize, Dear Reader.
With that, the question of the hour …
WHERE DID I GO?
Driving on the left in a miniature, mostly electric “SUV” on a roadway that would barely pass as a bike path in the US wasn’t the biggest culture shock.
In Ireland, the Irish still manage and staff most gas – excuse me, “petrol” – stations.
Only once on the outskirts of Dublin did I encounter what most of us have now grown accustomed to here in the US. A dumpy south Asian man behind the counter, leaning back, head down, looking at his phone, earpiece in, speaking one foreign language or another in an active conversation with someone who was not an in-person customer in front of him with a simple question.
“Do I have to prepay for gas?”
Simple enough, even if my vocab wasn’t correct.
He looked up at me blankly. Seconds dripped by. He spoke a salutation and visibly hung up the call. Still he didn’t speak.
“Did you hear what I said?”
I know the question sounds confrontational, but I was honestly confused.
Contrast this interaction with one I had at another rural convenience store/petrol station in which a spritely, well put together young local took the time to walk me through how the nicotine pouches behind the counter worked. Spoke perfect English. Beckoned cheerily to me the moment her register opened up. Seemed to derive genuine pleasure from helping me out.
The experience was likewise at what felt like 95% of the convenience stores, gas stations and small grocery stores we frequented, which we did quite a bit as we bounced from one place to the next over the course of 10 days. Optimistic, often youthful Irish behind counters, staffing registers and floors.
I remember when young Americans did most of those jobs here just a few decades ago. I was one of them. In fact, as a teenager, I put up one of the best secret shopper scores in our local Turkey Hill. Polite, enthusiastic, helpful. My only ding was I didn’t attempt to upsell the customer on anything. In other words, I wasn’t even slightly annoying.
Just about an hour ago this morning, I walked into a gas station about a mile from work. An illegal immigrant laborer trying to buy four blue Monster energy drinks and three slices of pizza at 6:30 am couldn’t get his cell phone tap to work at the register. The barely sentient, elderly south Asian man wearing crumpled 7-Eleven gear simply watched him struggle. When he finally intervened, they couldn’t understand each other. One speaking spanglish, the other, bad English hindered by heavy accent. Their combined powers eventually figured it out, but I was at least five minutes older. Next up, a morbidly obese welfare queen buying, I shit you not, two gigantic slim jims, two ham and cheese lunchables, and one extra large pepsi slushy, couldn’t get her EBT to work.
I fully expected this to explode into something world star worthy, but luckily she eventually took the L and used her own money.
My transaction took all of half a minute, and the register barely acknowledged my existence.
This is the norm here now basically everywhere you go. Gone are the days of local kids with their first real jobs. Fresh-faced, ambitious, ready to work, speaking a shared language with clarity, expectant that each interaction will resolve itself promptly and positively due primarily to their participation in it.
Don’t get me wrong, the Irish are facing similar issues. Even The New York Times has taken notice. Central government planners, overwhelmingly left wing, have taken to depositing “refugees” in small, rural towns all around Ireland. The locals have reacted predictably. The elites of course cast them as nativist, backward, bigoted.
Rinse and repeat.
Same thing here, honestly, although much more acutely over the past few decades.
One point of clarity I should make before I sign off, Dear Reader. This isn’t some appeal for universal whiteness. No, in fact, the Irish I encountered were quite more diverse than the stereotypical red-haired, short-statured (and short-tempered) caricature we often see.
The first interaction I had was with a young Irishwoman with jet black hair, bright blue eyes, who stood about six feet two inches tall. Also she was much tanner than I could ever get.
No, this is about a shared culture, shared upbringing, shared locality, and most importantly, shared language.
When you grow up in a place and start working there, not only are interactions frictionless, you actually care about impressions you make, even and especially with visitors.
I don’t have a punchy kicker for you. That’s it. Just something I noticed.
Lots has happened in the time I’ve been gone. Someone tried to kill Trump again. There’s been more investigations and indictments.
I’ll get to all that, I just wanted to say I was immediately struck by something we Americans lost to unchecked immigration and government handouts.
Let me know what you think in the comments, I’ve been dying to hear from you guys. Also, anything you’d like me to write about in the coming days.
I’m happy to be back in the fight, folks!
MORE LINKS
Who Are The Prosecutors Going After SPLC?
I missed other big news too.
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Thank the lord.
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Mamdani And Hochul Keep Trying To Make The Other Look Bad In Fight Over Taxpayer Money
Who could have seen this coming?
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