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Give me your tired, your poor
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore
Send them, the homeless tempest tossed to me
I lift my lamp beside the golden door
-Inscription at the Statue of Liberty
Bud And Pud In New York
Wearing a sweaty NRA tee, Bud moved his lips as he read the inscription. Pud picked his nose, waiting for him to finish.
“You know what this says?”
Pud flicked away a big one.
“It actually encourages them to come here and take American jobs.”
Pud scratched his ass.
“We don’t need no more lazy poor people. We got enough wretched refuse already.”
Confused, Pud looked at the shoreline, littered with trash and hypodermic needles.
“We gotta stop telling them they’re gonna be waltzing through a golden door.”
Pud gawked at Lady Liberty.
“Like we even need a French statue.”