ICE / Border Control tried to enter the Ecuadorian Consulate

[gfarber]

5. Ecuador ICE Encounter

There once was an agent so bold
He tried doors that were clearly controlled.
With a sign overhead,
“Consulate,” plainly read,
Yet he barged like the rules were just old.

An Ecuador office stood firm,
Said, “No entry—that’s not your concern.”
By Vienna’s decree,
“Hands off diplomatically,”
But the memo, it seems, missed his turn.

A staffer cried, “Sir, this won’t fly—”
“Don’t touch me or else,” came the reply.
Such finesse! Such restraint!
Like a barroom complaint,
Not the tone you expect from an ICE guy.

There’s a sign, big as day, on the wall,
Not exactly a subtle recall.
Yet an expert remarked,
With a sigh, slightly dark,
“Guess reading’s not vital at all.”

In Minnesota the mood’s wearing thin,
As the crackdowns keep doubling in.
When the badge brings alarm
Instead of calm,
You start wondering who let this in.

Outside church, guns waved close to a face,
With all the warm grace of disgrace.
Said the man, shaken still,
“They had no training or skill—
Just the bearing of criminals, base.”

So how dim can one be, people ask,
And still qualify well for the task?
If this is the test,
Then congrats to the rest—
The bar’s somewhere under the mask.