I hate rich people.

I hate bosses and CEOs.

They're not even human and they treat actual humans as cattle!

They're like: "Yeah, what can I say? We're here to make money, not social work."

Like, WHAT?? Like, just acting like a decent human being is a fucking drudgery and hassle to you??

That's why I hate "liberal" people and capitalism so much! It's "yeah human rights and compassion and respect is nice, but money, guys! MONEY!!"

UGH.

And they try to fucking justify themselves!

"Yeah, we treat our workers like slaves and cattle, we confiscate their passport, we forbid them to see their families, to have any kind of protection or day-offs, we park them in tiny, windowless, cramped, insalubrious closet-like flats, we abandon them to die when they're sick, we cynically lie when they die because of us but hey, we pay them 4 times what they'd earn in their country! So they should be happy and grateful towards us!"

Like What The FUCK? You admit you don't give a shit about your workers yet you want to make me believe you've bothered to look at the average wage in each of the native countries of people you admit treating like slaves??

What kind of twisted, spiteful, repulsive, disdainful as fuck and fucking racist justification is THAT?

You all fucking slaverist criminals should be in fucking jail! Not on a fucking beach, roasting your greasy skin!

I hate "liberals"! I hate capitalism! I hate priviledged, rich assholes who think the poor and immigrants should lick their fucking boots even when they treat them like shit!

I hate people who think to act like just a decent person is wrong, a pain in the ass or a "socialist bullcrap", especially if it's turn to poor ppl or to strangers or immigrants! Just wait for the moment you'll switch places with the guys you see as "inferior" to you! We'll see what the bullcrap actually is!

I hate this world and this shitty society that has hammered down our heads that being decent, kind and compassionate is shameful and lame and that being a selfish, racist, heartless and contemptuous asshole is good and cool!

Capitalism = Racism.

Period.

More pressure on Turkish border officials

More pressure on Turkish border officials

More pressure on Turkish border officials – CBS News Watch CBSN Live The way out of Syria for many terrorists and refugees alike is through Turkey, where border officials are having an extremely difficult time monitoring movements in and out of the country. Holly Williams reports. Be the first to know Get browser notifications for breaking news, live events, and exclusive reporting. Not…

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Asian and Pacific Islander Businesses to Support

Asian and Pacific Islander Businesses to Support

Its always important to support diverse businesses, yet given much of the racism they’ve received, Asian Americans, immigrants and Pacific islanders need our help. With recent unfortunate and unacceptable hate crimes happening right now they need support more than ever. You may be wondering what you can do to help, I have put together a list of AAPI owned brands to support. Sometimes even the…

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Anti-Defamation League Calls For Tucker Carlson's Firing Over White Supremacist Rant The Anti-Defamation League required Frid......Read the rest by clicking the link below! https://worldwidetweets.com/anti-defamation-league-calls-for-tucker-carlsons-firing-over-white-supremacist-rant/?feed_id=45082&_unique_id=6071252399a7c

NY State Gives $15,600 Payments To Illegal Immigrants

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This is just evil! https://anonymouscandle.tumblr.com/post/647969976471470080/arithanas-gaylileofigaro-this-is-worse #migrants #humanrightsabuse

Assalamu'alaikum! I hope everyone's well on this fine Friday. Alhamdulillah here's the 2nd part of the identity series I wrote. Please show some love for it, this is something straight from my heart.

People are like: “I love multiculturalism, let’s mix us all, blend it all together, many cultures and races bla bla bla”

Five seconds later: “Hahaha you’re a mix of European people, you’re a mutt, you don’t fit in Europe, you don’t fit anywhere, you’re just a rootless white American hahaha”

does anyone else get ridiculously annoyed when americans (and maybe other English speakers?) pronounce foreign words incorrectly and refuse to learn

...Montreal…..…slices of life Part 4

...Montreal…..…slices of life Part 4

… as a kid in the 60’s, we grew up in Montreal’s plateau (rue Hotel de Ville), which at that time was a blue-collar neighbourhood, today though, it’s quite bourgeois…… it was a mix of mostly French & Portuguese (amongst others) as the previous generations were mainly Jewish but had moved to newer areas of Montreal… for the most part, some landlords were still Jewish folks renting to the newly arrived immigrants such as they were themselves once upon a time too… I feel, it was understood, almost like an unwritten rule amongst immigrants coming to Montreal… we all need a break and some kindness… eventually as economic times improved for the Portuguese immigrants, they started buying these houses from the Jewish landlords as they were getting on in age and their children did not care for these old buildings…

… I can still remember our landlord, a tall Jewish man who dressed in black or dark suits and always wore a hat, must have been a fashion statement or some sort of piety, I feel it was the latter… 2 things impressed me… that this very old man had once lived in our flat as a kid… and that he was a kid once upon a time… he came once a month to collect the rent and my dad would always invite him in for a glass of homemade wine, never moonshine… I’d watch/listen to the old man’s heavy steps follow my dad into the kitchen… and as the men sat at the table drinking, he would complement my dad on how the flat was well kept and clean and how he wished he had more tenants like us and at the same time complained about the other tenants who according to him, left a lot to be desired… now, without time, the old man did not compliment and/or complain any more… nor did he collect the rent ever again… as his son-in-law took over this inherited task…

…..on a lighter note…..our building had 3 storeys and we lived on the ground floor (see picture)…often we’d go to the second floor balcony and slip underneath the hand rail and slide down the metal pole as would a fireman or even Batman…..yeah! a true juvenile daredevil stunt and with the wisdom of an 8 year old sliding down the pole, the back of my sweater got hooked on the iron fence and tore/ripped… …stepping (sneaking) into the house as my mom was over the stove stirring caldo verde (kale soup) along with whining/bitching about her bitter life…..oufff! ….she was a prime example of someone who desperately needed valium or simply get laid of which she had neither, I guess….seeing my torn sweater, she pulled out the lukewarm wooden spoon from the soup pot and came at me with a vengeance fuelled by her frustration of life and even for life …..barely within arm’s reach, the spoon was already being swung at my head…..having drops of soup splattering all over my face and especially my lips….I pointed out to her, that the soup was too salty (even under distress, I’m still adorable, no?)…..suffice to say, my culinary opinion/observation was not appreciated and the beatings continued until any soup latching on to the spoon evaporated….mind you, that evening for supper as I slurped the soup between my swollen lips, I still acknowledged to myself (of course) that indeed the soup was salty and that Gordon Ramsay would eventually agree with me……

……on a final note………we barely lived here 2 years, as my parents deemed the flat to be haunted…..so we moved on to another flat on Clark street…no ghosts but plenty of cockroaches…..in hindsight, not sure which was worse?. ….

...Montreal…..…slices of life Part 3

...Montreal…..…slices of life Part 3

… market history… growing up in Montreal as a 6 year old kid… markets were the Saturday morning Walmart of our times… even today, some still remain but are no longer archaic as per the past… notably the Atwater market, and/or the one on Amherst & Ontario streets… but the one I remember best was on the north-east corner of St.-Laurent and Rachel streets… authentic by all accounts… so authentic that the market building was a health hazard and would eventually be demolished…

… farmers, the real ones…… would park their trucks on Rachel street and sell their legumes..… the building also housed meat markets and live poultry……an elderly friend once enlightened me that poultry was bought live and brought home for the killing and plucking…..and that his mom and aunts (a co-op of sorts) would take turns in buying the chickens and clean them out for the others….at times, when his mom got her supposedly cleaned out chicken, she would complain that it was a piss poor job and sisterly squabbles/bitching arose as egos flared up…..eventually though, it's quite an interesting human trait that hunger can appease ego flames, no?

…. here is where the memory gets interesting… the building was demolished in 1966 the same year I had just started grade one… a wrecking ball crane had been brought in… it was parked for several days in front of the soon to be demolished market… and since the market was on my way to & from school… there was a buzz of anticipation in the air to see this mechanical giant in action…

… a happening… one afternoon, as the kids were set free by the school bell… the noise of the wrecking ball pounding the old market building was our calling… the kids that came out of the elementary school (OLMR)… placed their school bags on the side walk and sat on them facing the market building for a front row viewing… as it was being knocked down with the giant ball all the while being doused with tons of water to minimize the dust… uhs! & awes were heard from the kids… but the funny thing… is that as the building got pounded… rats would run out into the street and I guess some got run over by cars… but the rats that survived the street crossing… and whenever one came near us… we would scream like little girls and get up from our school bag seats with ensued laughter… but once the storm of rodents passed… we quickly regained our seats…

… signs… back then I already loved architecture/construction… my only regret is I did not get into this line of work earlier in life… because sitting on my school bag I was hit with an epiphany… but it did not dawn on me, until later in life… destiny does not always have a direct plan or path and if it does, sometimes we fail to see it…….… but whatever you have coming to you… you will get it, one way or another

...Montreal…..…slices of life Part 2

...Montreal…..…slices of life Part 2

...in the plateau’s St. Jean Baptiste ghetto….

…..oh! …picture this, if you can……there is a french school on the corner of Laval & Marie-Anne, it’s now called école arc-en-ciel but in the late 60’s it was called St. Jean Baptiste as was/is the nearby church on Rachel street……so, in late summer of 65, my mom instructs my brother and I to put on our Sunday best clothes even though this was mid-week…..as I get dressed, I see her (mom) in the bathroom removing rainbow coloured hair rollers and intoxicating herself with an overdose of Adorn (blue label not red) hair spray… so much so that any flying insect who had the misfortune of flying into the hairspray mist trajectory would be crystalized instantaneously… in the insect world, this is a worse death than impacting on a car windshield…

…..we lined up in front of the French school, little did I know that we were being registered for school, there is something to be said about her parenting style but this would be another story in itself……my dad was adamant that his kids attend French school because being a construction worker, his work environment was French and he truly believed that in Quebec, c’est en Français que ça se passe….my mom disagreed, as she preferred English mainly because she loved American actors/movies…one must remember who wore the pants in the family, need I say more?.....as a kid it seemed we waited ‘forever’ but finally we get up the stairs to be greeted by a generously plump woman with an intense red lipstick shade…..long story short….she tells my mom we’re immigrants and that we should attend English school (on a side note, I was born in Montreal)……for my dad, this rejection was a slap on the face, curiously my mom was not as vexed, maybe pantyhose (with reinforced tummy support) do qualify as pants……a few days later, we repeat the same scenario and I’m booked for a career at Our Lady of Mount Royal (boys) school……

… furious… as an elementary school kid… my walking to school was generally a bullying festival… on my way to my English school (OLMR), I would meet French kids on their way to the St. Jean Baptiste school… derogatory words were heard, with weather permitting snowballs flew as anger projectiles and occasionally fists were shared… this was my introduction that territorial linguistic possession was not limited to cats spraying piss to mark their territory…ironic is it not, had I been accepted in the french school, these kids would probably be my friends…..

…the church thing versus parental wisdom… ….as kids we were not regular church goers… only in time of crisis such as funerals or weddings (isn’t a wedding a funeral of sorts?)… but whenever my brother and I were rowdy… my parents in their infinite wisdom figured Sunday mass would calm us down… in reality it did calm us down as we were completely bored… the parents had very busy social calendars on Sunday so neither one of them had time to take us to mass… dad would go hare hunting in the wee hours of the morning and once he got home in the afternoon he just wanted to sleep… as he entered the house mom was leaving for work (Cara Catering Dorval Airport)… in hindsight this scheduling conflict also enabled the longevity of their marriage…

… responsibility… I kind of see mass in the same vein as my parents did… it also conflicted with my Sunday schedule… but because my dad feared god and mom equally… he ordered us to attend the French 5 pm mass on Sunday afternoon at the St. Jean Baptiste church… now the beauty of this afternoon mass was that it lasted only 30 minutes and not a full hour as in the morning sessions… still, 30 minutes is just too much time for an 11 and 12 year old boy(s)… my brother and I would leave the house at the very last possible minute… once we got to the church, we’d watch the people go in and we’d stay outside throwing snowballs at one another and also commit ourselves to any mischief we could think of… when people started coming out of the church after the mass… we would then head home too… the old man would ask what the sermon was about… my brother froze with these questions as he was and is more honourable than I.… me on the other hand, when it came to MY quality of life, I had no scruples with my lying routine… it always centered around the theme of …‘the kingdom of god and how we need to go to church, so as to get into heaven’…this was a conversation stopper for him…..I must add, even as a kid I was truly a smart ass though very introverted and yet adorable…..just like today, no?…..

….perhaps…..in hindsight one can say I was/is a visible minority due to my ethnic/anglo combo……but truth be told, I prefer being a visible minority as opposed to an invisible majority…..no matter, as all this is an extremely thin slice of life……

…Montreal…..…slices of life Part 1

…Montreal…..…slices of life Part 1

….with a virus fuelling incoherent fear into us….another one of its’ side effects, is it (virus) has affected my home renovation business (self employed) by drastically reducing my work load…..so, with Thursday and even Friday free I drive up into the Plateau……

…I live in St. Lambert and frequently drive into the Plateau to do what I call, ‘My Portuguese groceries’ …....yesterday was one of those grocery days…..it’s usually a roundup of both Soares grocers and Patisserie Notre Maison…for me Portuguese food is comfort food and it simply soothes my soul… ....especially lately as it’s not the best of times for me and probably for most us too…...I (we?) equate traditional food with family cause for our parents having just arrived to Montreal and settling into houses on the Plateau which for the most part were often old, dark and gloomy especially during winter months…..the only rays of light that ever came in was when we invited family and/or friends over to eat, feast, drink wine (or vinegar depending on ones’ wine making skills) talk/gossip, play cards and of course an abundance of never ending Tremocos (lupini beans)…..

….historic corner of Duluth and Hotel de Ville……..with time to spare, I found myself walking my streets, where my teen years were lived out ……..the parking meter (never saw one in my youth) swallowed $3 for less than an hour….are parking meters an indication that my old blue collar neighbourhood is now a bourgeois one?...

....back then I used to dismantle bicycles, paint the frame and re-assemble the bike….and of course my paint supplier was the hardware store on the corner…..it was owned by a Jewish man who had a hairpiece/toupee, often I found myself staring at him but never for long….as his French Canadian wife was far more appealing…she was always tanned, heavy on the mascara and of course she had breasts screaming for freedom….I should mention that, even as a kid, I was adorable and she took a liking to me as she was very patient and besides, even her heavy perfume scent prompted puberty in me……..

…..phone booth……it was located next to the apartment building….it was here in my later teen years where I’d make my phone call (rendez-vous) with my pusher to buy pot…..a key trait to pot smokers is paranoia….and the last thing I wanted was the pusher tracing my home phone number (I didn’t have understanding parents…LOL), so I always used the public phone whenever it was working because on a couple of occasions someone had yanked the receiver……

….for sure, there are thousands of moments/stories that I can share with you but as I stand on the corner I realize things have changed from when I was younger…..I also believe that at one time, someone else, decades before me, stood on the corner and looking at the apartment building said, ‘how could anyone convert a synagogue into rental units?’……but in the end, the common denominator is that, the only constant in life is ……’change’……

Immigrant Millionaires In Black Neighborhoods: 619-768-2945

USCIS Reverts to Prior Blank Form Rejection Policy

The United States Citizenship and Immigration Services (USCIS) has reverted its policy to that which was in effect prior to October 2019 regarding certain applications being submitted with blank spaces. The USCIS made the announcement on April 1, 2021 [link].

The forms affected by the October 2019 policy were:

Form I-589, Application for Asylum and Withholding of Removal;

Form I-612, Application for Waiver of the Foreign Residence Requirement (under Section 212(e) of the Immigration and Nationality Act, as Amended); and

Form I-918, Petition for U Nonimmigrant Status.

Under the return to its pre-2019 policies, the USCIS will no longer reject Forms I-589, I-612, or I-918 if the applicant leaves a blank space.

Despite the policy reversion, the USCIS cautions applicants to ensure that they fill out all required fields on their forms. “[A]pplicants should be aware that we may reject these forms, or it might create delays in their case, if the applicant”:

Leaves required spaces blank;

Fails to respond to questions related to filing requirements; or

Omits any required initial evidence.

While the USCIS's backing away from the October 2019 policy and returning to a more forgiving stance on incomplete forms is welcome news to applicants, it is still very important for applicants to do their utmost to ensure that all forms filed with the USCIS are fully completed. As the USCIS noted, filing an incomplete form may still lead to case delays or the denial of the relevant applicant. An applicant is well-advised to consult with an experienced immigration attorney for guidance on properly completing one of the three forms affected by the policy reversion or any other form that must be filed with the USCIS.

Please visit the nyc immigration lawyers website for further information. The Law Offices of Grinberg & Segal, PLLC focuses vast segment of its practice on immigration law. This steadfast dedication has resulted in thousands of immigrants throughout the United States.

Lawyer website: https://myattorneyusa.com

“do you ever miss Mexico?”

“i miss a Mexico that no longer exists.

The Mexico you knew, the one I grew up in, it’s not there anymore”

conversations with my father