Migrant headache

One of my church ladies pointed out that there's a recent documentary about a beauty school in Kabul and asked me, "Isn't that wonderful?" She was taken aback by my tentative response of well, maybe. I suppose I can see why she would assume that I would think that it's a good thing. After all, I've been soliciting donations of new & slightly used cosmetics and grooming aids for the women of Iraq for three years now in our church bulletin, and I'm certainly not the least bit hesitant when speaking about the transformative role Christianity and makeup will have in democratizing the Middle East. However, as is usually the case at the point where radical Islam and cosmetology intersect, things are rarely that simple.

The streets of downtown Los Angeles were filled with a half million potential felons all clamoring for the violent overthrow of the American political system yesterday. El Queda isn't content with merely inconveniencing us Christians with street closures: They're also trying to steal our jobs (thanks for the link, NewsMax!). If you think I'm going to sit idly by while some illegal Afghani skank who'd do my job for eight cents a day angles for the receptionist's chair at Conchita' Unisex Beauty Palace, then you don't know who you're dealing with.

And it's not like Conchita wouldn't entertain such thoughts. I've come to recognize the silent huddle of stylists gathered around somebody's work station, whispering and looking furtively in my direction. "Oh Christ, what now?" I thought when I came in this morning. Conchita hasn't spoken to me all day, but I got it out of one of the manicurists. Evidently, the mailing labels for the 100 or so postcards we sent out announcing our sale on a new line of hair care products all had the zip code of 90027. "I would have bought some, but by the time the Post Office finally delivered your announcement, the sale was over" was today's sickening refrain. Since I was supposedly the last person who accessed the customer address file (when I created a new field in everyone's record for their season), I'm being fingered as the culprit, naturally. What a sad day for America when demonstrating a little initiative gets you labeled as a trouble-maker rather than a trailblazer. Honestly, I may as well be in Cuba, or Massachusetts for that matter. Personally, I suspect that Al Qaeda (or their numerous sympathizers) are so threatened by my blogging that they hacked into our network and sabotaged us. Conchita is still living in a pre-9/11 world, though, because the last time I tried to warn her about their sinister activities on our computers, she told me, "Nancy Beth, I don't want to hear it."

That's her prerogative to live in denial, I suppose, but who's to say that one of these Afghani cosmetologists won't come to work wearing a dynamite undergarment that is so in vogue among Muslim women this season? It's exactly this type of nightmare scenario that has had me writing to my congressman to make the Board of Barbering & Cosmetology a part of the Department of Homeland Security, but to no avail. Will one of America's beauty salons be the next scene of a terrorist attack? It's highly likely, but don't say I didn't try to stop it. Praise Him!