My Horse, my Ox, my Ass, my Anything

Dating and engagements are full of ups and downs, especially when you’re dealing with a person from a foreign country. Today I was surprised to learn that if I want to bring a Zambian lady home, I will be expected to buy her.

Apparently, her family will expect a ransom of somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 cows. Her sister went for 7, but her brother in law had good negotiators, and her sister didn’t have a college degree, so she was a budget bride.

I told her to tell them my opening offer was three chickens. I said that when I haggled, I believed in starting low.

I said to make sure she told them I was talking top of the line chickens. Nobody wants to sound cheap.

I told her to remind them she eats a lot and is no good for pulling a plow.

Art of the deal, baby. Four years of Trump taught me some things.

The cattle would go to her dad’s relatives because she’s an orphan with no older brother. She feels they would be getting something for nothing.

I asked her what men were worth She said, “Nothing. Men are useless.”

I find the idea of buying her very appealing, even if I don’t really have to do it. I just want to have a framed receipt for buying a wife. I want to be able to tell American women I bought her. I want to watch their heads detonate.

I think it would be fun to do an act for strangers, where I give her commands like a dog. “Woman! COME!” “Yes, master.” ” Now HEEL.” “Yes, exalted one.”

It would be a riot during the 15 or so seconds of life I would have before an American woman murdered me. The Proud Boys would build a statue of me.

Now that I know how hard it is to get into the United States unless you’re a Mexican criminal, I have been looking into ways for us to get together. I could try to bring her here for visit, but we’re not sure if it will work. My buddy Mike had suggested another option: a third country that doesn’t care who goes in or out. Specific destination: Cancun.

Ms. Zambia had another idea: Israel. The perfect tourist destination for Christians, and a place I have longed to revisit since my kibbutz days. I thought the suggestion was brilliant. Israel is relatively close to Zambia, and they need tourists.

Mike is still pushing Cancun. It’s where he goes for dental work. He says you can live in a top hotel there for $200 per week. I tried to explain that frugality was not the point. We found out what it costs to fly from Zambia to Cancun, and that chilled the discussion. It is not cheap.

What if I just scrapped the whole idea and started dating a violent Mexican drug queen? Whenever she wanted to see me, she could just walk into El Paso, and I could pick her up.

I didn’t realize how hard it was to get foreigners permission to visit America. I had told her I planned to have her shipped in a crate. I said it would be a very nice crate with snacks. Looks like it’s not that simple. She has to be interviewed, vetted, waterboarded, and so on. Illegals have it easy.

How much weirder can my life get? Whatever the answer is, I say bring it on. This is so much better than anything anyone I know is doing. Anyone who thinks God doesn’t have a sense of humor hasn’t been paying attention.