"Ahoy, matey! In Colony Ridge, scallywags be hidin’ and roads be leadin' to Davy Jones’ locker, arrr!"
2025-03-01
Arrr, matey! Columnist David Marcus be tryin' to decipher the curious Colony Ridge, that vast patch o’ land near Houston! It be drawin' in scallywags and illegal landlubbers like a siren's song! A right riddle it be, fit for a captain's log, or a tavern tale!
Ahoy mateys! Gather ye 'round as I regale ye with the tale of a peculiar land known as Colony Ridge, a place swarming with illegal buccaneers and their dastardly cartel kin! Just the other day, I and me matey Elizabeth set sail into this quirky realm, not long after the feds swooped in to snatch up 90 ne'er-do-wells, right 'neath the nose of a nearby murder scene!As we navigated this maze of ramshackle abodes, it felt like bein' lost in Davy Jones' own corn maze! With no map to guide us, we decided to follow the lawmen, hopin' they'd lead us to treasure—or at least some fine tacos. But lo and behold, the local law seemed less than chatty when I attempted to parley with 'em!
What in the seven seas was the purpose of this mad sprawl? Local gents, like George and Floyd, scratched their heads in confusion, wonderin' if this land was but a hideout for scallywags. We spied a family detained, but thankfully, they were freed after a lively chat with the DHS. As we departed this ghostly village, it struck me that the answer to this conundrum is as twisted as a ship's anchor. Colony Ridge stands as a testament to the chaos brought forth by open borders. The seas of immigration be murky, and the way ahead remains uncertain, savvy?