The World of Me!


You gotta love people who believe THEY are the most important people in the world.

They purposely cut you off on the roadways.   They appear in the express lane in the supermarket with 200 items.  They demand immediate attention, the line is for pedestrians.

When I travel, I’m usually the last one on the plane and the last one off.    Being last, usually mean I simply walk to my seat, most people are settled in, no waiting for people to stow there belonging.   I normally sit in the aisle seat near the end of plane.

One evening in Portland, I wasn’t the last passenger.  There was a lady, demanding the plane wait for her friend’s WHO were waiting for pizza.    The young woman at the counter said the flight to Sacramento was full and they were going to close the door.  NO! she shouted,  your not full, were not on, so you’ll have to wait!  They should be coming now!

Well, Hell, this is much better than the Housewives or any of the Reality shows. I wanted to see how this was going to end.    However, to see the end, would mean I would miss my flight.  So, I faked a slow limp.  DAMM!     On board, I strained my neck to see if the lady and her friends made it on the plane.        Ding, (the seat belt sign came on) as the plane was being pushed backward.   Guess they will enjoy their pizza at PDX!

What is it about those individuals, who has Chutzpah, to cut in line, push others and simply disregard all others and feel there actions are justified.

Turning the other cheek

Were human, sometime you can swallow and say to yourself, let it go, it isn’t worth it.  Then  there is that one time that your not feeling particularly Christian.  No fucking way!  Not Today!

Philadelphia:   I’m on my second leg of three legs to Sacramento.  A man enters the cabin, he’s not flight staff, he’s another passenger.  He opens the  overhead above my seat and begins to relocated the belongings of other passengers items to other bins.  I can’t believe no one isn’t saying anything.  In my head, I’m daring him to move my bag with my PC.   Sure enough, he takes my bag and I tell him to leave it where it is.   He said, he is gonna move it down.  You could feel the heat in my little section.   I told him, your going to fucking leave it where it is!  (This is unusual for me,  I’m not one for making scenes or swearing in public)  He angrily stared at me, as if!    In my head, I said to myself. you gonna end up seeing Jesus on this plane, ain’t nobody playin wit ju!      Somewhere during the flight, when the man went to the restroom, a man in the row behind me  tapped me and said, could you believe that guy, he moved MY stuff!    I’m thinking to myself, why didn’t YOU say anything.

 

Who are these people?  Did they Have indulgent parents?

One wonders, how were these people formed?  Did this form of narcissism begin as a child.  That one child who is throwing a tantrum because they don’t want to wait their turn and that indulgent parent who makes excuses and exceptions for their child’s poor behavior.    Is this the beginning, of  a skewed perception of the world that insists that their needs or demands comes before others, at any cost!

 

“We teach people how to treat us” 

One of my favorite movies is “Avalon”, directed by Barry Levinson.  It follows a Russian Jewish family as they slowly build a new life in  America.  Through the years the family immersed themselves in American culture.  Including Thanksgiving, one branch of the family is notoriously late. (not minutes,hour or so) not once ,but every time.  This was before (microwaves) and the very large family waits for the uncle and his familyto arrive before cutting the Turkey.  The children are hungry.   But they wait.  The apologies aren’t genuine.   After many years.  They start without them.   This action divides the once close family.  its very sad.    But….

We teach people how to treat us.   It is my theme.     I cant stand by and dine or travel with anyone who doesn’t  have any consideration for others.   I refuse to watch someone I know, berate another person , because he or she doesn’t want to don’t want to wait.  Those individuals don’t care if their friends are humiliated.  They simply want what they want!    When that happens, I quietly leave. No Drama, no scene’s or explanations.  I leave. All human beings deserve respect and if I should stay, I’m condoning bad behavior, it isn’t worth it…

 

CityFella

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U.S. judge grants reprieve to Puerto Ricans facing eviction


 By: Joey Roulette

 

KISSIMMEE, Fl. (Reuters) – A federal judge will hold a hearing on Monday that could determine the fate of hundreds of Puerto Ricans who fled the hurricane-ravaged island last year and are lodging in motels, after granting them a reprieve from eviction over the weekend.

The last benefits of a federal aid program for Hurricane Maria evacuees from the island had been set to run out on Sunday morning, cutting off housing assistance for the group residing in state-side motels.

But late on Saturday U.S. District Judge Leo Sorokin of Massachusetts ordered the U.S. government to extend the aid for hotel vouchers to at least check-out time on July 4. At the hearing, he could decide whether to extend it further.

The Federal Emergency Management Agency has said 1,722 families are currently receiving aid under its housing program, 585 of whom reside in Central Florida motels.

FEMA said in a statement on Sunday it was aware of the judge’s decision and was contacting vendors to comply with the court order.

“There’s a couple tough decisions people really have to make,” Soto told reporters.

Hurricane Maria dealt a vicious blow to an already struggling island that has been in recession for more than a decade, with a poverty rate near 50 percent.

Maria destroyed or significantly damaged more than a third of about 1.2 million occupied homes on the island, the government estimates.

The task of rebuilding Puerto Rico’s housing stock ultimately falls to the territory government, which has no ability to pay for it after racking up $120 billion in bond and pension debt in the years before the storm.

Reporting by Joey Roulette; Writing by Jon Herskovitz; Editing by Nick Zieminski

How you gonna keep ’em down on the farm after seeing Paris,Texas


Image result for eiffel tower paris texas

How ya gonna keep ’em down on the farm After they‘ve seen Paree was a popular song after World War 1.

With a many of the soldiers living in rural areas there was a concern that some wouldn’t want to return to life on the farm after seeing Paris.

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One hundred miles northeast of Dallas lies Paris Texas, a small city of 25,000. It was once a major Railroad Hub with seven rail companies .

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Photo: Google

In 97, Kevin Heubusch book “The New Rating Guide to Life in America’s Small Cities”, he said Paris was the best small town in Texas.

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The city has quite a history. It was destroyed by fire several times.(that’s more than once👀)

It has a very contentious history with its black community.

St. Paul Baptist Church – Founded in 1867 by former slave Elijah Barnes, it was among independent black Baptist congregations which freedmen quickly set up after the Civil War. Most of them left the Southern Baptist Convention, creating their own associations. This is registered at the state and federal level as the second-oldest African-American Baptist church in the state.

There are many local attractions in around Paris. If your visiting the Dallas area , Paris might a good one day trip. And at the end of the day you CAN SAY, (wait for it)

 

 

 

 

 

You’ve been to Paris.

CityFella

The president who never backs down finally caves


Donald Trump is pictured. | Getty

Intense pressure, including from Republicans, prompted Trump to undo his family separation policy.

By Annie Karni and Eliana Johnson/Politico.com

In the face of protests at airports across the country opposing his restrictive travel ban last year, President Donald Trump defended the executive order as a necessary protection from terrorists.

When he was confronted with bipartisan outrage and criticism from his own aides after condemning violence on “both sides” of a white nationalist rally and counter-protest in Charlottesville, Va., last year, the president dug in his heels.

Sitting behind the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office flanked by Vice President Mike Pence and embattled Homeland Security Secretary Kirstjen Nielsen, Trump signed an executive order temporarily halting his policy of separating children from their parents at the border.

“The border’s just as tough,” Trump told reporters. “But we do want to keep families together.”

The about-face came less than 24 hours after Trump was stridently insisting he was powerless to change the situation, instead blaming Congress for scenes of children caged in former big-box stores.

On Tuesday, speaking in front of a business group, Trump even referenced his first campaign speech, in which he called Mexican immigrants rapists and accused them of bringing drugs and crime into the country.

“Remember I made that speech and I was badly criticized?” he said. “‘Oh it’s so terrible, what he said.’ Turned out I was 100 percent right. That’s why I got elected.”

As recently as Friday, the White House circulated talking points quoting the president himself saying that his hands were tied: “We can’t do it through an executive order.”

His ultimate reversal was all the more remarkable because the immigration and border security has been his signature political issue, one that has energized his political base and helped elevate him to office.

It came as a rare combination of forces collided, ultimately moving the stubborn commander-in-chief: political pushback from Republicans in Congress, including typically staunch allies; private pressure from his family members, including his eldest daughter and his wife; and, most importantly, wall-to-wall media coverage broadcasting to the country images of frightened children and the sounds of their sobs from inside government-run facilities.

“Trump has proved remarkably impervious to elite and media criticism, but even he couldn’t withstand this,” said Rich Lowry, the editor of National Review. “The new policy is a tactical retreat in hopes of re-gaining political traction, but family separations of the sort we’ve seen over the last couple of months are not going to return.”

Click onthe Link Below for the full story on Polictio

https://www.politico.com/story/2018/06/20/trump-caves-family-separation-660870

Very much not New York pizza


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A recipe for pizza toast in Atlanta starts out as cold comfort, then provides a path forward

By: Julia Bainbridge/Salon.com

I checked the weather app on my iPhone as soon as my plane touched the ground in Georgia. It registered 89 degrees. Hours before, I finished a cup of coffee in a drizzly Manhattan and hugged my friend goodbye, and when I discovered the app’s findings, I texted her a screenshot. “Jealous!” she responded.   I abhor the heat.

Rummaging through the refrigerator in the apartment I’ve lived in for just over a year, I found sliced sourdough bread, tomato sauce, and mozzarella cheese that I had shredded and stored in a plastic container. I toasted the bread and then layered on the tomato sauce, which I mixed with a tablespoon of an Indian-style tomato condiment that another friend makes (and sells through her company Brooklyn Delhi) and then the mozzarella, which I melted under my oven’s broiler. It was a kind of pizza, I guess; pizza toast, let’s call it. It was fine. It was dinner that night.

Four nights earlier, I had ordered a New York pizza. It was a New York pizza in style — generous in diameter, with a thin, crisp but pliable crust — but also in fact. I was in New York and I ordered a pizza. It was a New York pizza because it was baked, sliced, delivered and, ultimately, devoured in New York. Hundreds of pizzas were simultaneously being delivered within a couple miles of me, and they were all New York pizzas.

This particular one arrived in a 20-inch cardboard box via a slender man named Weiqun. The time was 10:30 p.m. on Wednesday, and as I stood on the sidewalk in my silk pajama set waiting for Weiqun to unzip his insulated carrying case, I noticed a handsome brown leather briefcase to my left. Following the navy pant leg of its owner up to his face, I saw a late twenty-something man leaning against the brick facade of my friend’s apartment building, wrapping up a phone call about some business deal or another. Whether or not he does so ironically, I was charmed to discover that at least one millennial carries a briefcase to work.

For 30 seconds, Weiqun, the millennial financier and I were subjected (happily, in my case) to the synthesizers in Rihanna’s ragamuffin-style “Rude Boy” trilling out of the speakers of the boombox affixed to the back of Weiqun’s bicycle seat and onto Thompson Street. Once the pizza box reached my hand, off I went to the fifth floor.

As for the aforementioned devouring, it was done properly, by New York standards: My right-hand thumb and pinkie finger pushed together the two vertices on either side of the crust edge of each cheese-topped triangle, folding it in half lengthwise. I ate three slices, standing at my friend’s kitchen counter while streaming a Netflix documentary about early 90s-era club kid (and criminal) Michael Alig on my laptop.

 

I thought of that pizza as I plodded around my kitchen in Atlanta and ate my pizza toast in silence, watching the sluggish sway of dogwood trees billowing with flowers through my living room window. Visions of Weiqun came to me, as did flickers of Rihanna’s steel drums. My pizza toast tasted better after the first three bites, as I remembered my New York pizza and the scenario involved in acquiring it. Sometimes pleasure can be had in eating something so unlike the other that, in comparing the two, they’re both with you. The tomato achaar’s black mustard seeds revealed themselves, then the fenugreek. Tamarind! Gosh, I haven’t cooked with tamarind for a while, I thought as I reached the center of the slice. By the time I finished it, I was searching for tamarind recipes on my laptop. The next night I used the fruit’s pulp in a warming and garlicky chickpea curry, something I’d never made before.

New York City, where I lived for ten years, is a dirty, difficult place with endless potential for magic. About once a quarter, most New Yorkers wonder aloud where else they might move. I could have a yard in Nashville. I could afford a second bedroom in Portland. I could own a bed and breakfast in Maine. I could run an heirloom squash farm upstate. In the end, they usually stay. A piece of the reason why is that they feel a part of a phenomenal and phenomenally twisted club. Loving New York for the energy it provides and the willingness to sacrifice so much else for that energy is a very specific taste. Are you wacked enough to immerse yourself in it? So am I. Let’s play.

I left, and I’ll probably return. I say “probably” because, in this year away, a year that forced me into saying I’m in my mid and not early thirties, I’ve grown used to the ease of being able to seat eight guests comfortably at a table in my dining room. I’ve enjoyed the company of less rapacious men, men actually seeking committed relationships. And I’ve had the room to, instead of hustling to pay rent, try new things, like making chickpea curry from scratch. Twenty percent of me still isn’t sure I want to return to carrying my laundry two blocks once a week or engaging in months of flirtatious texts that lead nowhere over and over again. Another thirty percent of me is curious to see what else I might get up to with the time I have now, time that used to be taken up scraping New York’s dirt off of me at the end of each day.

I’ll spend the summer touring Minneapolis, Chicago, Austin, San Francisco and most places in between as I research for a book. Pizza toast will appear here and there to fuel me, I’m sure. Maybe in Philadelphia, I’ll make it on a hoagie roll. Maybe in Los Angeles, I’ll get my hands on some of that tomato achaar and make a version that’s close to my Atlanta original. I’ll think of my kitchen in Georgia and all of other the things I cooked there. And I bet when I order New York pizza, those flavors will be with me.

 

Pizza Toast

Serves 1

1 slice sourdough bread

1 tablespoon tomato sauce (or whatever your desired amount for spreading)

Shredded mozzarella cheese (usually about 1/4 cup, depending on your mood)

Optional toppings: flaky sea salt, black pepper, red pepper flakes or dried oregano

Place bread on a sheet pan. Broil on both sides until golden.

Spread one side with tomato sauce and top with cheese. Broil once more until the cheese is melted.

Serve immediately.

White’s only Clubhouse in Sacramento?


A white only clubhouse in racially diverse Sacramento?

 

White co-workers allegedly used cardboard boxes to build a protective fort around their desks

 

 

Teshawn Solomon said, a manager repeatedly called him Nigger AND built a clubhouse out of cardboard boxes around his and other employees desks with the words “White Only” spray painted on the boxes.

In an article in the Sacramento Bee, Solomon said he reported the harassment to a regional manager, showing him photo of the clubhouse and no action was taken.   He resigned after making the complaint because he felt there was nowhere he could turn for relief from the hostile workplace .

A second man, Jason Flick who is Caucasian, joined Teshawn Solomon lawsuit against.  Flick, alleging racial harassment by workers and managers at Vivint Solar’s Sacramento.    Vivint, is a publicly traded home automation and energy company based in Utah.

Flick said  Solomon was “consistently singled out for racial discrimination and harassment by his predominantly Caucasian co-workers and supervisors.”  He said Solomon was frequently called Nigger.     He said he was told to  scrutinize Solomon’s time cards extra carefully.

The Flick lawsuit also mentions the “White only” fort, which “disgusted and distressed” He took photos of the fort and shared them with Solomon.   Flick resigned in March because he “could no longer tolerate the toxic, hostile, racist work environment.   When he applied for unemployment benefits, Flick included the photos of the fort in his application, which he believes were shared with Vivint’s human resources office, the suit said.

Vivint CEO David Bywater in released a statement on Wednesday(before Flick’s was filed)  saying his executive team first learned of the racial harassment allegations when Solomon filed suit earlier this week. Bywater said the company conducted an internal investigation that resulted in the termination of one employee and disciplinary action for several others.

“The disturbing experience described by our former employee does not reflect the values or culture of Vivint Solar and stands in direct contradiction to our core values as a company,” Bywater said.   He believes the racial harassment allegations are an “isolated incident,” and disputed some of Solomon’s lawsuit.

 

According to a lawsuit filed in Sacramento County Superior Court, a supervisor with Vivint Solar built a "White only" clubhouse out of cardboard boxes inside the company's Natomas warehouse. An African American employee is suing for racial harassment and discrimination.

what if he wants to die?


My neighbor approached me yesterday about a neighbor who is in his eighties.   He wants to die she said.  he leaves his door open, he is not eating, his friend is doing everything for him, but he wants to die.  He’s not doing well, he can’t walk without falling down.   I don’t know what to do?   I don’t know his family or who to call?  I thought of you because you seem to know about situations  like this. 

I told her I would make a few calls. Perhaps there is an city or county agency that would make a welfare check.   I told her I would call later in the afternoon.

I overslept.

My neighbor came up to my apartment, she was dejected and I could smell alcohol on her breath.   She said, called the management of the apartment complex, she said they were angry that she called. The called the city and various agency.  He was in the Korean war so being a vet, she called the Veterans Administration and they told her, let him die!  (I’m not convinced they said that )   I saw the tears in her eyes, I wanted to hug her, but didnt for some reason.   I told her I am lucky to have a caring neighbor like her in the complex.

As I closed the door to my apartment, I thought to myself.  Do we have the right to prevent a person who wants to die, to die? 

I knew two people who committed suicide.  I clearly remember wondering if I could have made a difference, prevented them from killing himself.  Next response was anger and resentment, how cruel and selfish they were.  People loved them, friends family and in one case children, they should have talked to someone!  Told someone!  sought help.  Their choice of suicide will cause a great deal of pain and we will live with this stain of this selfish act !

I cherish life, I love it and think I am blessed every single day, but that is me!

I have no idea of the pain these individuals have, their suffering.  How unbearable it might be for them, day to day, even living in my world.

 Maybe its us who are cruel and selfish ones.  We insist they live a life of misery and despair for us.  We insist they hang in there with the endless needles and evasive  procedures for us.

We ignore them and get angry hen they say their tired.  We insist they trust god, when they simply want to go home.

Some of us demand that our love ones live a life of pain.  We pray, we want them to want to live. For Us.

My neighbor was in his early eighties, he lived longer than both of his sons.   Last year was an horrendous year for him.   His beloved small white dog was snatched out of his arms and killed by another dog in front of him.   He is a fixture in the apartment complex.

With his rapidly deteriorating health, I’m not sure I would want to live.  My options would be very few and I wouldn’t want to be a burden on my friends and children.

   “What if I want to die?  Am I obligated to live for friends and family?

Cityfella