ICE Work If You Can Get It
Episode #161: Dryer Babies, B-Words and Jangle Pop Worms
Thank you for your interest in becoming an agent of ICE.
We have reviewed your application and I am happy to welcome you to the ICE family!
If you’re thinking, wait… what? Family? I thought I was joining ICE, the all-American hit squad of no-nonsense badasses who are working hard to rid this country of black and brown people who were not born here?
YOU ARE!
We think of ourselves as a family because we’re more than just a loosely mandated terror gang. We’re closer than close. And though we may not be bonded by blood, we do often punch people and they frequently bleed and THAT bonds us.
As a member of ICE, you are now part of a brotherhood bigger than yourself. We are a brood of patriots. A clan of citizen commandos. A fraternity of government-sponsored thuggery.
This family works hard and plays hard (ask about the cornhole league). We lean on each other and we love each other (but not in a gay way).
And like all families, sometimes we fight, but that’s just because we care so much and also on account of the steroids.
What I’m trying to say is WELCOME!
Great job on the pre-testing!
You scored 785 on your Racist Exam, which puts you firmly in the “More Than a Little Bit” range, a solid number for the majority of ICE agents.
Even more impressive was your perfect zero Empathy Rating, which will definitely serve you well in the field.
I know you’re anxious to get started, so here’s what happens next…
Orientation and instruction sessions take place every Thursday night at your nearest Hobby Lobby location. Bring this letter to customer service and say, “I’m here for the Make Your Own Piñata Class,” followed by a very obvious wink.
You’ll need to bring:
Two forms of identification.
A positive, can-do attitude.
Your own face mask.
Your training session will last approximately 90 minutes, after which you will be given a 9mm sidearm, a super-dope tactical velcro logo vest (NOT bulletproof) and keys to a black SUV rental parked out back.
Please refrain from eating or vaping in the car and make a note of the fuel level because you’ll need to return it the same way or else Thrifty will charge us extra for gas.
There is no hard dress code, but please avoid woke logos, short pants and any shirts that expose your midriff.
Wear comfortable shoes because you WILL be running. If you’ve never run in your life, don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. It’s just like walking, but faster.
Remember: there are cameras everywhere these days and you WILL be filmed by civilians and/or the media. Please try to look as cool and tough as possible at all times.
This means:
No drinking from cups with straws.
No waving at people, even if they wave at you first.
No dancing at the gas station, even if a nearby car is playing “your jam.”
As a sworn enforcement agent of the current administration, you are expected to operate as a nameless, faceless soldier in the war against illegal immigrants. This sometimes means taking mothers from their children, husbands from their wives, and beating old people when they sit helpless on the pavement in a threatening manner..
I can guarantee you will be kicked, punched, spat on and called bad names. Stand firm. Keep in mind that those names cannot hurt you, especially if they are curse words shouted in Spanish and you don’t understand them.
My advice? Shut out the negativity and focus on the job. I listen to Christian sci-fi audiobooks between raids. Some of our guys enjoy true crime podcasts.
But you may prefer raw-dogging it in silence and going psychologically numb by tapping into that deep well of inner rage, stoked by your history of trauma and abuse.
Whatever works for you!
In conclusion, thank you again for your service and sacrifice.
You could be home right now playing Call of Duty or buffing your truck nuts, but you’ve selflessly answered your country’s call. For that you are a brave, brave boy.
A good and very special boy.
And while the liberal masses may condemn our mission of abduction, detainment and deportation as cruel, they don’t know. They don’t know me. They don’t know you.
They don’t know the thrill of chasing migrant farm workers through fields of butterhead lettuce. They don’t know the rush of tackling an undocumented groundskeeper in the parking lot of an Outback Steakhouse.
You ask them what it feels like to put a tiny, hysterical Mexican lady in a sleeper hold? They have no idea.
This is our thing. They are not like us. So fuck them.
Keep your chin up, stay pumped, and I’ll see you next week at the Home Depot!
Episode #161 Playlist
1. “The Rattle in the Room” - Corner Suns, Sarah Jaffe
That sound driving you crazy? Best case scenario, it’s a baby or someone making a martini. Worst case, you have a rattlesnake loose or a busted clothes dryer. Worst worse case? You have a dryer full of babies, rattlesnakes and martinis. In which case, you should definitely call for help.
2. “She got the bomb” - Billylildove
Okay, so there’s a clear explanation for this. What I meant to say was “She IS the bomb,” which is young person slang for “great.” But I accidentally said “got,” which completely twists the meaning and, understandably, raised your suspicions. And now that I’m here being stripped searched by you fine TSA folks, I now realize I should have avoided the B-word altogether. Also, do I have to keep holding my ankles even when you leave the room?
3. “Garten meiner Fantasie” - Ezra
I know you’re wondering what I would grow in “My Fantasy Garden.” Magical flowers? Bizarre vegetables? Cabbage Patch dolls that I could resell on eBay for a fortune? Anything is possible. Honestly though? Probably just a shit ton of squash.
4. “Thank You God for Making Me an Angel” - Country Teasers
You’re welcome, but it feels weird because nobody ever thanks me for MURDERING THEM.
5. “Get Up Off Our Knees” - The Housemartins
Breaking news: these guys have won the 2025 Earworm Award. I know the year is only half over, but there’s no way any two songs stick in my brain harder than “Happy Hour” and this one. Yes, the album is almost 40 years old. Yes, it’s weird how much these boys have shown up in my recent rotation. But things happen. And now I mumble-sing “Famines will be famines and banquets will be banquets” or shout “Get up off our knees!” like I have some kind of British jangle pop Tourettes. Thanks Obama.
Listen here…
Happy Birthday!
“If you can’t stand a little sacrifice and you can’t stand a trip across the desert with limited water, we’re never going to straighten this country out.” - H. Ross Perot (Born June 27, 1930)
Have fun. Stay safe. Don’t be a jerk.
Sincerely, DJ CrankyPete