I can't wait for Ralph to wake from this xannie-fueled slumber, sometime around 2pm, only to find himself either still at the border, or in some random inland empire studio apartment. Covered in drool, shit, piss, vomit, disoriented, probably having lost his phone and maybe his passport and other ID again. The questions will ring out, "Is Ralph finally dead?" Only for him to stumble out of a Cricket Wireless store with yet another $20 phone to start tweeting again in some of the worst English written by a non-pajeet.
Pity the fool who woke up this morning and realized they allowed ol' piggertits into their car, much less their house.
(But honestly, even odds he didn't get much north of the border.)