Consider the absurdity for a moment, not as a rhetorical flourish but as a stress test of the idea. If proximity determines identity, then reality becomes a carnival of accidental transformations.
Born near a litter of puppies, do you suddenly develop a taste for kibble? Delivered in a garage, should we expect you to idle quietly and require oil changes? Arrive mid-flight at 30,000 feet, and does the cockpit become your natural habitat?
Push it further, because the premise invites it. If you happen to be born in the backseat of a taxi, is the driver now your extended family? Should Thanksgiving invitations be sent accordingly?
The mind resists these conclusions because they are ridiculous, yet they flow directly from the same logic that underpins the current interpretation of birthright citizenship. Geography alone, stripped of allegiance, culture, or legal intent, becomes a kind of magical stamp, transforming circumstance into identity.
And that is where the argument quietly collapses under its own weight.
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