Mike Rainey is one of the funniest and most respected comedians on the Philadelphia scene. He has spearheaded a group called Comedians for a Cause, raising money for everything from large charities to friends who are down on their luck or suffering a health crisis. Last year, when Mike had a friend dying of cancer, he worked tirelessly to put on a huge fundraiser so that his friend could spend one last vacation with his family at Disneyland. Mike is, quite simply, a solid dude.
He is also a very funny comedian, and he has written his first book, Terrible Advice, which is pretty self-explanatory. The book is a mere $10, can be ordered on Amazon, and 10% of all proceeds go to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. So pick up a copy, support a local comedian/terrific guy, and help raise money for a great cause. And while you wait for it to come in, you can read some of Mike’s terrible advice to an illegal immigrant trying to sneak into the country.
If I were an illegal immigrant, I couldn’t think of one good reason why I shouldn’t sneak into the U.S. What’s not to love about this country? Well, except for T.G.I Friday’s. I fucking hate them but I really don’t feel like going into that right now, so just drop it bro, ok? But seriously, if I’m making a dollar a day making goddamn soccer balls in my stupid home country or if rival drug cartels are ruining my kickball games by shooting the shit out of each other, then I’m looking to hightail it to America. Nothing would make me happier than to become moderately obese and complain about trivial bullshit all day long. Ah, the spoils of being American. But doing things the right way and jumping through all the hoops just to get into this country is just a real pain in the ass. I’m tryna get my sneak in on, ya feel me?
Your best bet is to get the ball rolling by telling everyone you know that you are planning to illegally enter the U.S. This maximizes your chances of having someone throw a kick ass going away party for you. Heck, I’d even try to invite a few of the local border patrol agents to the party. Those guys have access to some wonderful confiscated drugs. Maybe they’ll even bring some of their drug sniffing and bomb sniffing dogs. If I were you, I’d handle some C4 before heading into the party. Then I’d rub the residue all over the back and shoulders of an attractive lady at the party without her knowing. Then, when the bomb sniffing dog comes in and starts going bananas over her, your lucky lady will inevitably start freaking out and loudly wonder, “Why is he barking at me?!” You can then calmly and confidently explain, “Because he knows you’re the bomb.” At that point, legally speaking, she has to have sex with you. You haven’t even started sneaking into the country and you’re already ahead of the game!
Now, you have to do some actual planning. You’re going away party was a blast, but it’s time to move on. Come up with exactly how you want to sneak over the border. If I were you, I’d just watch a bunch of A-Team episodes. You’ll learn a ton about sneaking up on people and you’ll start pitying fools. Win/win, bro. Next, you’ll need a disguise. Basically, anything that makes you look like you are an important member of the community who has no desire to ever leave. I’d go with a suit with dress shorts, like the one Angus Young from AC/DC wears. From there, I’d just get a good night’s sleep and set my alarm for just before sun up. You’re hours away from becoming an official illegal alien!
Alright, so you overslept. It’s bright as fuck out now, but I’d still give it a shot anyway. What’s the worst that could happen? Put your little suit on and fill your backpack with some food for your journey. I’d probably go with a few Lunchables and a six pack of pounders. Just bundle them into your bandana that you’ll tie to the end of a stick. Head out the door and tell your neighbors to fuck off if you have to. What do you care? You’ll never see them again. Hop on your moped and head to the border checkpoint. Baseball, apple pie, and hot dogs are in your near future, Mr. American.
Once you arrive to within a hundred yards of the checkpoint, ditch your moped. If you’re in a silly mood, pin the throttle down and send the bike through the checkpoint un-manned. It’ll give everybody a thrill and it shows off that great sense of humor you have. While everybody hems and haws about what a zany stunt that was, casually stroll towards the checkpoint and hopefully no one will notice you. I might whistle a little bit just to show how at ease I was and how I totally wasn’t trying to sneak into the country illegally. If somebody stops you and asks for proper documentation, just tell them you left it in America at your beautiful house that you were able to purchase thanks to capitalism. That should be enough to get you through. If they really want to break your balls, you’re kind of screwed.
At this point, simply ask if you can have your moped back so you can go back home. You’ll just have to try again after you finish your eighteen hour shift at the soccer ball factory.
Sorry things didn’t work out for you. Oh well. You’ll get ’em next time. Probably not, but whatever. I’m really not worried about it. If it’s any consolation, you make a pretty mean soccer ball with those carpal tunnel-ravaged hands of yours. I sincerely mean that.
