Border Czar Tom Homan found himself responding this week to what reporters initially described as “an escalating exchange” with Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer.
According to Homan, the governor has been repeatedly sending what her office insists are “friendly invitations.”
Homan calls them something else.
“I’ve received seventeen letters, four postcards, two edible arrangements, and one singing telegram,” Homan complained. “Every single one invites me to come to Detroit and try Detroit-style pizza.”
He shook his head.
“I consider that a threat.”
The latest invitation reportedly arrived inside an oversized envelope decorated with smiling pepperoni slices.
Inside was a handwritten note reading:
“Tom, we’ll save you a corner piece.”
“I’ve made my position perfectly clear,” Homan told reporters. “I’ve tried Detroit-style pizza. It’s thick. It’s square. The cheese runs off the sides like it escaped the recipe. I don’t want any part of it.”
Asked whether Governor Whitmer had actually threatened him in any conventional sense, Homan paused.
“No.”
“But she did underline the words ‘extra crispy edges.'”
Political commentator Joseph Barron admitted the controversy had become impossible to explain to anyone outside Michigan.
“We’ve reached the point where half the state believes pizza is a constitutional right,” Barron sighed. “The other half thinks refusing it is grounds for deportation.”
As always, the best eyewitnesses weren’t politicians.
They were ordinary people trying to get through another workday.
Dave, a long-haul truck driver from Lansing, said he picked up two hitchhiking culinary students who spent three straight hours debating pizza geometry.
“One of them had blueprints,” Dave recalled.
“He kept referring to crust thickness as ‘load-bearing.'”
Meanwhile, Anita, a crossing guard outside a Detroit elementary school, said she overheard parents arguing during pickup.
“I thought they were discussing school supplies.”
“They were arguing over whether the crispy cheese edge should be considered the official state border.”
Then there was Carl, who repairs commercial ovens.
“I’ve fixed pizza ovens for twenty-five years,” Carl explained.
“I’ve seen grown adults nearly come to blows over pineapple.”
“But nothing compares to telling somebody you don’t like Detroit-style.”
“They look at you like you just booed Motown.”
Even Earl, who stocks shelves at a neighborhood grocery store, got dragged into the debate.
“A customer asked where we keep the frozen New York-style pizzas.”
“I pointed to Aisle Seven.”
“The guy behind him muttered, ‘Traitor.'”
The strangest story came from Rita, who delivers office coffee throughout downtown Detroit.
“I walked into a conference room where everyone stopped talking when they saw me.”
“I figured it was an important meeting.”
“It turned out they were drafting a letter politely asking Tom Homan to give Detroit-style pizza one more chance.”
“They debated punctuation for forty minutes.”
Joseph Barron says Homan’s dislike of the city’s signature pizza has become legendary.
“Michigan tourism officials have apparently reached the bargaining stage,” he laughed. “First they offered one free slice. Then free garlic bread. Now they’re offering a complimentary guided tour of the oven.”
Homan says none of it will work.
“They can keep sending invitations.”
“They can keep telling me I haven’t had the right slice.”
“They can even throw in breadsticks.”
“I’m still not eating pizza that looks like it was engineered by a concrete contractor.”
As of press time, another envelope had reportedly arrived at Homan’s office.
This one simply read:
“We’ll wear you down eventually.”
It contained a coupon for a free square pizza and a refrigerator magnet shaped like Michigan.
God Bless America.
