05/29/2009 05:12 am ET Updated May 25, 2011

Dear Marty Fleck: How Did These Flu Germs Cross The Border?

(Marty Fleck is a self-help guru, the author of the international bestseller Where Can I Stow My Baggage? and the syndicated column "Baggage Handling." He is also the pseudonymous protagonist of Bill Scheft's new novel Everything Hurts. He has generously agreed to answer questions from readers of the Huffington Post every Wednesday and Friday.)

Dear Marty Fleck,

I was willing to give President Obama the benefit of the doubt, but his recent coddling of swine flu is the straw that broke this patriot's back. When I read the pandemic started in Mexico, like most people, I had one thought: How can they let these Mexican flus into this country to take jobs from American flus?
Lax Borders, Redding, Ca.

Dear "Lax Borders,"

If this is one of those guys from The Onion with time on his hands, bravo. If it isn't, you need to lie down.

Let me see if I have this right. You think a highly contagious bug crawled under a hole in the fence, or better yet, hitched a ride in the trunks of some kid on Spring Break in Ixtapa? And all because there was a better life infecting people in Arizona and California? Well, if that's the case, I will gladly Google Map his cellular ass to your pad in Redding, Lax Borders. Or should I say Mr. Len Jason of 145 Highland Avenue?

Len, are you lonely? I have someone you should meet. Jeannie Zamchek of Barstow. I know it's a bit of a shlep, but you two are soulmates. Jeannie wrote me at the end of last month, in a blind panic. Asked me if she shoved 500 mg of zinc into the USB port of her laptop could she ward off the Conficker virus. I wrote her back and said simply, "Conficker VIRUS, not Conficker cold -- Hel-lo???"

If you think you have swine flu (in addition to the other things on your psychopharmacologist's chart), the symptoms are headache, nausea and fatigue. Wait a minute. If that's the case, I've had swine flu since reading your letter. Yeesh. I thought the United States doesn't torture.

And next time you work yourself in a lather about lax borders, remember: We let you in.