Get thee behind me, salsa

I have a theory: The United States would not have a problem with obesity if it weren't for all the Mexicans* bringing their damn delicious food here for all of us to love and crave. That's the real problem with immigration - not whether it's legal or illegal, but whether it is bringing healthy, low fat food like broccoli and lettuce, not mouth-watering calorie festivals like rice and guacamole. And sauces. And corn-based everything. And CHEESE; dear God, the cheese. Queso enchiladas. Chips and queso. Tortilla soup topped with queso. Queso chile rellenos. Queso on tacos, fajitas, burritos, salads... DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN?!

I think it's a plot. Get the country addicted to your fabulous fatty food, and then reclaim Texas and California. I'm on to you, Mexico! Killing us with kindness, giving us exactly what we want with your tamales and sopapillas. It's like the War on Drugs, except much more subtle. It's the War on Dinner. And come to think of it, it's not just Mexico. I'm not forgetting you Italy, with your pizza and pasta and gelato. Germany, you need to answer for your weinerschnitzel and potato pancakes. China, stop sending fried rice and egg rolls to tempt us at every turn. And England! What about that...um, OK, well there's....HA! Scones. Those are like stale muffins, right? So they're probably bad for you. And Cadbury! They're English - chocolate all the way. So, yeah. No more War on Terror - from now on, it's a war on taquitos! It must be against the Geneva Convention to give someone something they have no defense against. And I'm totally lodging a complaint with the UN. Right after I finish this chimichanga.

*In case you are completely unfamiliar with humor/sarcasm/satire, no immigrants were harmed in the making of this blog post. Nor do I have anything against Mexicans, Italians, Germans, Chinese, English, or any other nationality, race, religion, ethnicity, sexual orientation or identity. My grandparents were immigrants, and I have immense respect for people who are willing to give up life as they've known it to start over in a new place, whether they are moving to or from America. It's a JOKE. Because it's easier to blame other people for my weakness than voluntarily eat broccoli and lettuce. Don't judge me.