No Perfection in Chemo

You let in four million—twelve million—whatever the real number is. No papers, no checks, no plan.

Now twenty-two thousand ICE agents are trying to find them.

And when one of them gets aggressive at an embassy door?

Or pushes the wrong bystander?

Or shoots a violent protestor?

After being cursed at?

Called a Nazi?

Threatened with future prosecution?

All for enforcing the law?

You folks ignored for years?

Everyone screams.

But hold up.

You don’t get perfect surgery after years of neglect.

You get chemotherapy.

It burns. It weakens. It scares.

Sometimes it hits healthy cells too.

But you don’t blame the drug—you blame the cancer.

And this?

This is the cancer.

The open borders. The fake stories. The “nurses” with two magazines. The Signal mobs.

You built it.

Now the body’s fighting back.

And yeah, it’s messy.

But messy beats terminal.

So no—don’t expect perfection.

Expect survival.

And right now?

That’s exactly what we’re doing.

– The Grateful Immigrant St. Paul, Minnesota

January 28, 2026

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