The relationship between the Minutemen and the ACLU: I can't say that it's antagonistic, but it ain't exactly friendly.
Here's a fun thing for you to do on your day off from work: make your way down to Three Points and ask some Minutemen what they think of the ACLU. Better yet, tell them that you're from the ACLU and listen to their response. Inform them that the long-haired hippie in the Honda Civic sent you, that you don't really know him, and that he's doing some really great work. See what happens.
Chances are you won't get a straight response from any Minuteman on the first overture. You might see him or her (the title isn't exactly politically correct) steam a little bit from a distance, but not much more. If you want to talk with a Minuteman, you have some hurdles to jump first.
Obstacle one: the credentials.
The Minutemen have established their headquarters at a private ranch 'round mile marker thirty-four, Sasabe Road. That ranch is guarded by a gun-toting Minuteman in a blue truck. He won't let you in the complex unless you have authorization. You, the journalist, researcher or aspiring writer, need an official Minuteman press pass. Without one, you're out of luck. You're not going to find a ticket window at this show.
Obstacle two: “the mission”.
You decide to ixnay your plan to enter the complex and, instead, speak with them while they're on their patrols. Let's say that you go down Sasabe to mile marker twenty-five, Elkhorn Ranch.
To your surprise, you're greeting not with the friendly "Neighborhood Watch" group that they advertise but two men with hip-belted sidearms, camouflage pants and hats, tan-colored shirts, video cameras and, the kicker, bullet-proof vests. They step out into the road to see who you are, they take your license plate number, they radio their "sector leader", the slow talking "Liberty" or the gruff "Pineapple 6". You try to strike up a conversation with them, but they don't really discuss their activities. They don't want to disrupt "the mission."
Chances are you won't get a straight response from any Minuteman on the first overture. You might see him or her (the title isn't exactly politically correct) steam a little bit from a distance, but not much more. If you want to talk with a Minuteman, you have some hurdles to jump first.
Obstacle one: the credentials.
The Minutemen have established their headquarters at a private ranch 'round mile marker thirty-four, Sasabe Road. That ranch is guarded by a gun-toting Minuteman in a blue truck. He won't let you in the complex unless you have authorization. You, the journalist, researcher or aspiring writer, need an official Minuteman press pass. Without one, you're out of luck. You're not going to find a ticket window at this show.
Obstacle two: “the mission”.
You decide to ixnay your plan to enter the complex and, instead, speak with them while they're on their patrols. Let's say that you go down Sasabe to mile marker twenty-five, Elkhorn Ranch.
To your surprise, you're greeting not with the friendly "Neighborhood Watch" group that they advertise but two men with hip-belted sidearms, camouflage pants and hats, tan-colored shirts, video cameras and, the kicker, bullet-proof vests. They step out into the road to see who you are, they take your license plate number, they radio their "sector leader", the slow talking "Liberty" or the gruff "Pineapple 6". You try to strike up a conversation with them, but they don't really discuss their activities. They don't want to disrupt "the mission."
Obstacle three: the bushmen.
You turn back around and make your exit, slightly frustrated and somewhat disturbed. Who the hell are these guys?you think to yourself. They seem to have come from nowhere. They sure as hell weren't carrying any visible identification, and you couldn't exactly see their license plate numbers. You didn't even see a car. How were you to know that they backed it thirty yards into the desert and dropped a green army-issue parachute over the top as cover?
Obstacle four: who the hell are you?
Terrorists aren’t welcome. Unauthorized immigrants aren’t welcome. Legal Observers aren’t welcome. You’re not welcome. The slope is slippery in Minuteman Land. This is the front line in the war against undocumented immigration. The invaders are never too far away.
But there is a way around all of this. This is your country, after all. You have a constitutional, God-given right to your own land. Rule of law. Buy a State Trust Land permit, and strap on your gun. Declare your rights. Be a real American. Maybe then, you’ll have something to talk about with the Minutemen.
Just remember, these stripes don’t run. And neither will you.
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