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I am a mirror on a wall in a lobby of a very exclusive, most posh, ritziest hotel in Washington D.C. I have been stared into for a long, long time, 75 years to be exact. I arrived some time before the end World War II. No one really notices me, I mean they gaze at me, but never see me, they look straight through me. The most powerful people in the world have looked into me, never realizing my true worth.

Many times each day I am sprayed and wiped down, this sorta tickles. My gold leaf border is dusted, and no smudges are visible. I weight over 100 pounds, imported from France, created by an artisan glazier for the hotel. I am a portrait mirror, you can check the polish on your shoes and prim your hair all in one look. Every guest must pass by me, either leaving or entering the lobby, you can’t miss me! I stand tall and proud.

Most people look at me to, fix their tie, fluff their hair, smear their lipstick, presently, couples stand in front of me and take selfies, this disturbs me, the glare and the sometimes flash irritate my reflection. So what propose do I serve? I feed the ego, for one. Hundreds of people each day stare at me and wait for my reflection. Am I handsome, pretty, or just fooling them selves? I can recall many presidents checking themselves, they don’t see what I see. I can gaze right back and pierce your heart with MY stare. Politicians can be fake, fake smiles, fake teeth and fake hair. I see who they really are.

I see and stare their sadnesses and their joys, but sometimes their lie directly into me. I can still see truth. If you dyed your hair I can see the roots, if you spin and pirouette I can see all the flaws within you, there is no escaping my truth. The true joys are great to be a part of, the sadness makes me question the person. My heart aches for them, yet I must remain silent.

President Harry S. Truman was my first president. He would stare at me in wonder and awe, I soon realized he was looking for answers. He had to make the most difficult decision of any president, weather or not to drop the Atomic Bomb on Japan. The struggle for this poor man made me believe I was not only a mirror of your image, but a mirror to your soul. Harry would often dine with dignitaries at our restaurant and pass by me, I felt at times he’d wink at me like an old friend. I don’t make decisions, I show you who you really are. His guilt ran deep, but there was no other decision to make to safe our country and our boys.

I felt a part of me shatter when I heard the news of John F. Kennedy, a young man with unlimited potential who really loved America. His death started a decade of destruction. More death of world leaders, a war no one wanted. The Kennedy Family was the backbone of Washington politics. John and Jackie were the most elegant couple ever to grace the White House. When they dined at the hotel all heads turned, I must admit I was taken aback by their appearance. I almost blushed when The First Lady stared at me do adjust her near perfect hair.

Many presidents I have met through my years, my favorite was Jimmy Carter. The kindest and most sincere of all. To this day, and well into his nineties, he still gives his heart and soul to those in need. The Reagan years were a lot of funny, Hollywood moved in. John Wayne, Frank Sinatra, they all came to met and greet me.

Don’t get me wrong my tenure hasn’t been all dreary, I have made friends and there has been many joys I have shared. The countless married couples who have posed with is priceless. The fact that I can see sorrow, doesn’t mean I cant see happiness. Sadness always finds me, but I look for happiness constantly. One couple was married for 50 years. Nearing 80 years old, their reflection was awesome. The love for each other pierced through me like a bright ray from heaven. My fondest memory was when I first arrived at the hotel, it has been my fondest every since. A WW2 sailor and finance met before me just prior to his deployment. They vowed their love in front of me. The sailor swore he’d return and marry her. They set a date to meet again, June 1, after the war in my lobby. No matter where she was she would travel to Washington and patiently wait his return. The war ended and there was no word from the sailor, news travelled slow during the war, she never knew what happened to him. She would wait for a letter, hoping he was still alive. The couple of years passed and still no word. She would to DC every June as she promised. No one ever met her. Finally, in 1947 she received a letter from the US Navy stating he was alive , but a prisoner of war in a German Stalag. He had been seriously wounded and couldn’t get any communication to her. When he was released he was shipped to Oakland, California to a Veteran’s hospital for observation. The Navy’s communication where he was at was late in arriving. She stayed true to her vow.

The sailor was released and had no information where his fiancé was living. He travelled by bus one late day in May to DC. When he arrived on Memorial Day, a few days earlier then the planned date, he though she wouldn’t show up in the lobby. He had lost his leg and was wheel chair bound, barely able to use crutches he waited for days hoping to meet her again. He could not afford our fancy, expensive hotel, he sought lodging in a flea bag hotel several miles away. Over the next few days he would find his way back to our lobby. He’d sit in front of me and I saw his sorrow , same sorrow displayed by his girl when she was waiting. June 1 came, and he made camp in front of me. For some strange reason I didn’t see is sadness today, I saw joy! Just as he was began to wheel himself back to the flea bag, she walks in ! I have never and will never see such happiness in two people. Their love appeared in my eyes and I swear I began to cry. They radiated love! I stored their love in mind and think back over the years of all the sadness and love I had experienced. May their love be a reflection for all to share.

What is the party of Democrat Socialist. What do Democrat Socialist stand for and believe in?

There are very minor reasons giving cops reasons to pull you over. Say you had a few glasses 🥂 of wine during dinner and you got pulled over by a cop for one reason or another. A cop can cite you for driving under the influence of alcohol even though your alcohol 🍸 BAC level is under 0.08. I know people who got into a lot of BS due to being pulled over by a cop.

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How You're Giving Cops Reasons To Stop You | How You're Giving Cops Reasons To Stop You | By VINwiki | Facebook

How You're Giving Cops Reasons To Stop You

Growing up in Greenwich Village during the 1950s and 1960s allowed me to be exposed to the melting pot of historical writers. Thomas Paine, William Sydney Porter. [O’Henry] Mark Twain and James Baldwin, just to name a few. They all lived in The Village and embraced the Bohemin life style. For many years aspiring writers have flocked there. However, there are also locally born writers plying their craft. Charles Messina, Alfred Caneccchia, Dom Perruccio and myself. I can say I have know Charles Messina since he was born on Thompson Street. Charles has written many screen plays and plays, his latest musical play soon to be on Broadway, “The Wanderer.” Based on the life of Dion DiMucci, Dion and The Belmonts. Al Caneechia has written many books, “Greenwich Village Vignettes,” the Village seen through his eyes. “When Greenwich Village Was Ours,” which I contributed a short story. My buddy Dom Perruccio, he and Charles wrote, “Stomping Ground, Growing Up On The Streets of Greenwich Village,” His latest work is a beautifully illustrated book, “The Adventures of Miss Canoli The Scamp,” a wonderful tribute to his dog.

We will never be as famous as the afore mentioned writers, their creativity has cemented a place in Greenwich Village for current writers and writers of the future. Growing up in Greenwich Village during the 1950s and 1960s allowed me to be exposed to the melting pot of historical writers. Thomas Paine, William Sydney Porter. [O’Henry] Mark Twain and James Baldwin, just to name a few. They all lived in The Village and embraced the Bohemin life style. For many years aspiring writers have flocked there. However, there are also locally born writers plying their craft. Charles Messina, Alfred Caneccchia, Dom Perruccio and myself. I can say I have know Charles Messina since he was born on Thompson Street. Charles has written many screen plays and plays, his latest musical play soon to be on Broadway, “The Wanderer.” Based on the life of Dion DiMucci, Dion and The Belmonts. Al Caneechia has written many books, “Greenwich Village Vignettes,” the Village seen through his eyes. “When Greenwich Village Was Ours,” which I contributed a short story. My buddy Dom Perruccio, he and Charles wrote, “Stomping Ground, Growing Up On The Streets of Greenwich Village,” His latest work is a beautifully illustrated book, “The Adventures of Miss Canoli The Scamp,” a wonderful tribute to his dog.

We will never be as famous as the afore mentioned writers, their creativity has cemented a place in Greenwich Village for current writers and writers of the future. Growing up in Greenwich Village during the 1950s and 1960s allowed me to be exposed to the melting pot of historical writers. Thomas Paine, William Sydney Porter. [O’Henry] Mark Twain and James Baldwin, just to name a few. They all lived in The Village and embraced the Bohemin life style. For many years aspiring writers have flocked there. However, there are also locally born writers plying their craft. Charles Messina, Alfred Caneccchia, Dom Perruccio and myself. I can say I have know Charles Messina since he was born on Thompson Street. Charles has written many screen plays and plays, his latest musical play soon to be on Broadway, “The Wanderer.” Based on the life of Dion DiMucci, Dion and The Belmonts. Al Caneechia has written many books, “Greenwich Village Vignettes,” the Village seen through his eyes. “When Greenwich Village Was Ours,” which I contributed a short story. My buddy Dom Perruccio, he and Charles wrote, “Stomping Ground, Growing Up On The Streets of Greenwich Village,” His latest work is a beautifully illustrated book, “The Adventures of Miss Canoli The Scamp,” a wonderful tribute to his dog.

We will never be as famous as the afore mentioned writers, their creativity has cemented a place in Greenwich Village for current writers and writers of the future.

Years ago when you worked 30 years for a company and retired they gave you a gold watch, a pension and a thank you for being a loyal employee. Today if you work for a larger corporation they give you a pink slip at 55. You are now too old for the company. They can hire two of you and save a bundle. At 55 your health becomes a concern, data shows you will get sick and it will cost the company dearly. No more loyalty, what are you supposed to do at 55? No one will hire you, you’re old. To me age is only a number a concept. If you stay healthy and avoid stress, stress is the big corporate killer, you may live a long life. Diet and exercise will help. I have my own theories of exercise. A rabbit hops around all their life and it lives many 8 years or so, a dog runs and jumps and lives to 12. Now a turtle sit on his ass all day and lived to 150. Be a turtle, no mortgage, no HOA and extremely mobile.

My latest novella about racial tension in Gulfport, Mississippi in 1950s.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mc6v51Nq6Rghttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mc6v51Nq6Rg

I want to thank my dear friend Peter Arcuri @peter who I highly respect as a client, friend, writer, advisor, and business associate and partner on all he does for the team at GCA, being my advisor, going over ideas and business plans especially with GCA Mortgage Forums, and spirituality and life in general. I like to start this forum to share the views of others on their thoughts and opinions of everything that is going on today in the United States and the world. I like to thank Peter for volunteering of taking on the responsibility of being my mentor and professor on studying and mastering the Christian’s view of the Ten Commandments. As I was working i overheard a YouTube video my wife was listening too and asked her what she was listening too. It seemed like whoever was talking, he stole my principles, ideology, and foundation i live by every day and base most of my business decisions and make my decisions on who my acquaintances and friends are. So I yelled to my wife who’s the guy talking on YouTube. She yells back, “THE TEN COMMANDMENTS.” That’s when I text Peter Arcuri. I will explain on a separate subforum on why I requested Peter for taking on the task on educating me on a following subforum at a later date on this thread. Basically, I asked Peter Arcuri, “Peter, can you teach me all about the ten commandments.” Peter’s response: ” Easy. Don’t Fuck Anyone.” Okay. Now I know where this academic thesis of the Ten Commandments will lead to. Here’s what started all this

https://youtu.be/RbIZsTVNu5M?si=1AI7U97dTIU_snot

If you are looking for a quick, easy sauce for pasta, here is my recipe for Puttanesca sauce. Originally, from the Campagna region of Italy. Literally, Puttanesca means “prostitute,” a fast sauce made in between Johns. From the 19th century bordellos of Naples rose this simple dish that has become popular in the United States.

As I mentioned I don’t follow recipes only time and temp of the protein.

Vermicelli pasta, or any “Spa’getti,” a long, thin pasta.

Cook pasta,drain always reserve a little pasta water to add in. Preferaby cooked Al Dente, “to the tooth,” in Italian.

Add: Roma tomatoes sliced, olive oil, red pepper flakes, anchovies, black olives, and garlic.

The original recipe has capers, [I use olives] chili peppers, [I use red pepper flakes.]

You can add any amount of these ingredients depending on personal preference.

My wine suggestion would be a light, crisp, dry white wine, Pinot Grigio. If you need a little sweetness, try a German Riesling, they are dry with a slight touch of sweetness. Apricot is one flavor, in Riesling, the stainless steel aging of these wines created the fresh, crispness.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0trHQUkUTUU

I could have been tech savvy years ago. I was living in San Mateo, California, near San Jose. I was managing restaurants and my neighbor was working in San Jose. He said to be, “ I got this great sales job and you would be great at it!” I asked what was the job, he replied, “selling chips.” Now I’m thinking chips that was a great job back in New York, if you can get a chip route it paid good money. So I ask, “Lays or Pringles?” He explained micro chips was the latest invention for computers. This was 1988, Silicon Valley was yet to be established. I miss the boat and I never ate potato chips again.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s4dsbmKs07I

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ARClE4zCUl8https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ARClE4zCUl8

A homily early in Advent last year at St. Paul’s in Tampa, reminded me of a similar homily I heard years ago about prayer. There was a flood predicted and one man refused to heed the warning of the local authorities to vacate before the flood arrived, his answer was, “I will be fine I am praying to God.” Some hours passed and the flood worsened, the sheriff sent a boat to the man’s house to rescue him, “I am fine I am praying to God.” The boat left only to return three hours later and the man still refused to leave. Finally, the man was on his roof praying to God for help when just then a helicopter arrived to save him, still he refused, and he drowned.

When the man was greeted by God at the pearly gates he asked God, why He didn’t help him after praying so hard, God said “ I did help you I sent the sheriff, a boat and a helicopter.” The moral of the story is God answer prayers, maybe not the way we want, but He answers them.

I know God answers prayers, I don’t know how? I have prayed and prayed for things in my life, these prayers were not answered right away. If my prayer wasn’t answered, so I thought, it really was answered and the answer was “no.” God will give us the tools to help ourselves, we have to be aware of them and use them accordingly. I always pray, I wake up and pray, a prayer is constantly going through my head, and so many times the devil enters to trip me up with the words, he wants me to trip and fall so he can help me. It may have worked at one time, not now, and that’s the reason I am writing this story.

I pray to Padre Pio, “pray, hope and don’t worry,” that was Padre Pio’s mantra. I wear a St. Benedict medal attached to my crucifix to keep the devil away. For the last few weeks I have been wearing a Immaculate Mary medal on a black leather bracelet. I was never in the habit of praying to Mary, I do now and it works. My worries and troubles have not changed, but praying to Mary has eased my mind and prepared me for the future with a clearer head. This past Advent I prepared myself for the arrival of Jesus, and I have never felt so serene and so joyous. I know my prayers are being answered. In the end of this life I fully believe that praying has made a difference in my life. Pray!A homily early in Advent last year at St. Paul’s in Tampa, reminded me of a similar homily I heard years ago about prayer. There was a flood predicted and one man refused to heed the warning of the local authorities to vacate before the flood arrived, his answer was, “I will be fine I am praying to God.” Some hours passed and the flood worsened, the sheriff sent a boat to the man’s house to rescue him, “I am fine I am praying to God.” The boat left only to return three hours later and the man still refused to leave. Finally, the man was on his roof praying to God for help when just then a helicopter arrived to save him, still he refused, and he drowned.

When the man was greeted by God at the pearly gates he asked God, why He didn’t help him after praying so hard, God said “ I did help you I sent the sheriff, a boat and a helicopter.” The moral of the story is God answer prayers, maybe not the way we want, but He answers them.

I know God answers prayers, I don’t know how? I have prayed and prayed for things in my life, these prayers were not answered right away. If my prayer wasn’t answered, so I thought, it really was answered and the answer was “no.” God will give us the tools to help ourselves, we have to be aware of them and use them accordingly. I always pray, I wake up and pray, a prayer is constantly going through my head, and so many times the devil enters to trip me up with the words, he wants me to trip and fall so he can help me. It may have worked at one time, not now, and that’s the reason I am writing this story.

I pray to Padre Pio, “pray, hope and don’t worry,” that was Padre Pio’s mantra. I wear a St. Benedict medal attached to my crucifix to keep the devil away. For the last few weeks I have been wearing a Immaculate Mary medal on a black leather bracelet. I was never in the habit of praying to Mary, I do now and it works. My worries and troubles have not changed, but praying to Mary has eased my mind and prepared me for the future with a clearer head. This past Advent I prepared myself for the arrival of Jesus, and I have never felt so serene and so joyous. I know my prayers are being answered. In the end of this life I fully believe that praying has made a difference in my life. Pray!

Stepping Into an Honored Life

I am an old, wheel-worn pair of shoes that sit in a box in the back of a closet. I am just a reminder of days past. My owner takes me out of the box and slides his feet into me every so often. We aren’t going anywhere; he stares down at me like an old friend.

I worked manual labor for ten years, mostly concrete work. I am caked with cement and water. My leather is well worn; talk about an old comfortable pair of shoes. A good part of me built my owner’s house, my laces have been replaced dozens of times. I originally started out dark brown, but now I am more tan from the sun.

I have poured foundations, climbed high on scaffolds, and worked in the cold of winter until I began to crack. I never complained in the great heat of the summer when the temperature was over 100 degrees. I fought the rain during construction; although water-logged, I still worked. I gave comfort and support to my owner.

He is a good family man who cares for everyone. I can recall walking in 5K races for charity – who else would he wear except me!

When I was first purchased, I was young and inexperienced. I needed time to get broken in. In the beginning, I heard I was painful but mellowed as time passed. Over the months, we both adjusted to one another. My owner’s toes conformed to my length, his arches molded my shape, and his soles sat deep within me. I know all the bones in his feet. At times, I felt the entire weight of the world on me, yet I never wavered and stood tall. I never faltered, tripped, or fell. I am a living part of this man.

When my owner injured his ankle, I was there to help change my shape due to his limp, so he was able to continue working. His ankle was so swollen he could barely tie my laces, but we still continued to work.

I am often pulled out of the closet to perform the dirty job of working with cement or paving the driveway. This is not what I thought retirement was about. At times I am used for “dress up,” a game with his grandchildren, an honor, I suppose.

For some reason, I have been moved from my nice and cozy closet to the steps entering the house from the garage. My days may be numbered, or I may be put back to work.

When the grandchildren come to visit, they run to greet me. They have heard the stories of construction. Part of this new project will be a man-cave for the owner, adorned with his trophies and awards. I’m not sure what part I am playing in this new venture.

The new construction has started! I sit idly by, waiting for instructions. I am not being used, but I’m ready for work! Put me in coach; I’ve still got some life left in me. My owner bought a new pair of construction boots, and I am deeply saddened. They are black and shiny. The work continues with pouring a foundation, and I eagerly want to work, but no one needs me.

The work is done, the man-cave is great! A bookshelf is built into one wall that will display all the items near and dear to my owner. Some weeks pass, and a large cauldron is brought into the garage and placed alongside me.

I have no clue what it is here for. They pour some metal into the large pot and begin to heat the pot. The fumes are sickening, and I am worried I will be destroyed! I am placed inside; I can’t believe that this is my demise. After minutes in the pot, I began to sweat; the heat is unbearable. Finally, I emerge as a pair of bronzed shoes; I am not dead. The owner then places me on his bookshelf next to the bronzed baby shoes of his grandchildren. I have become immortal. The owner places a beautiful plaque next to me that reads:

“To my loyal friend. You stood by me as I built this life and family. It would never have been possible without you.”

I had the pleasure of being one of the contributing writers.

Here’s a video for crime of the crime of the week folks

When Cops crossed the line and violate a citizens civil and constructional rights, they will lose their jobs and get arrested, charged and sued. They are not above the law.

https://fb.watch/opYOfBdZ_T/?mibextid=Nif5oz

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPMa4YgZWNQhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPMa4YgZWNQ

If you are going to live in the mountains, you must learn a few things to survive. I lived in Lake Tahoe in the Sierras for nine years, one of the most beautiful places in the world. It’s a continuous battle with nature. Moving to an area where wildlife rules, one must adapt to their surroundings. The bears and coyotes have been there forever, and we are the trespassers. Snow can appear ten months out of the year. The only month it didn’t really snow at Lake Tahoe was in July. I camped at Eagle Lake in July at almost a 10,000 foot elevation. I woke one morning to 6 inches of snow which melted quickly. I was the snow-plow king of my neighborhood. There weren’t many neighbors living out in the country, in fact, my street was the last for the city to plow. If you live out that far, you must depend on yourself to survive, hence, a four-wheel drive Jeep with massive studded snow tires.

Firewood was a big deal; I hated buying wood. So I decided to drop pine trees for my neighbors; I was allowed to chop any tree 6 inches or less in diameter. After dropping the trees, I would bundle them up and store the dry rounds for the next year. I would need at least two cords a year. One year I stacked the wood too close to the house only to discover the mice preferred wood piles in the winter; I ended catching eighteen mice that year.

Coyotes, by far, are the smartest of all creatures! When I would come across a coyote in the forest, I would stand my ground and yell. The coyote would back up a few feet only to turn around and glare at me to see if I were serious. I never had a problem with them, though.

One day, at my kids bus stop, I saw a white wolf, an amazingly beautiful creature. Black bears were everywhere! When I first moved there, I spotted a bear cub in a tree, which means mamma bear is close by. I am certain the same cub would visit my dog and me; I could tell by the bears’ chest blazing as a way to identify bears. I’d be splitting wood, and the bear would come by the wrought iron fence and peer in. My dog would be nose to nose with the bear. If they ever learned to use their thumbs, we would most certainly be in trouble. They can open a car door or jar of peanut butter. They thought humans kept their food in ice coolers, so they would break into your car for the coolers. One night, my New York City sister visited with her friend and stayed at the cabin across the street. When I walked her home late that night, a bear walked right past us; we felt and sensed his whoosh! You can smell a bear if they’re that close.

If you are hiking and encounter a bear or a coyote, do not run because they will think you are prey. Stand your ground, try to make yourself bigger, wave your arms, act crazy, and they will go their own way. They do not want confrontation. Bears climb trees, and they will only try to enter your tent if you have food inside. Most campgrounds have bear bins which are metal with latches for food storage. They have learned to adapt to us humans and how to pilfer our foodstuffs. We have to try to adapt to them because they were here first.

When I lived in Sonoma County, I was an amateur winemaker. I decided to travel down to Apple Valley, about 60 miles south, to purchase some grapes. I trucked them back to Tahoe to begin the process. The grapes were crushed, and fermentation was starting. The bears arrived and tore through my wooded fence to enjoy the grapes that very first night. I heard the crashing of the fence and bounded outside just in the nick of time to save my wine. I moved the grapes to a friend’s house the next day. Who knew, grape jelly, bears?

Garbage is a great temptation for bears; you just can’t leave your garbage can out all the time. If you do, they will party every night. What you need is a 600-pound bear bin that is set in cement with rebar. I purchased one for $800 but before I able to cement and rebar, the bears arrived and pushed it over. They knew that food came in these bins. The next day cement and rebar were installed, and before the cement settled, the bears came by again and pushed it over. They knew which were the garbage nights, and they would continue push over the bin. I tried motion lights, anything I could think of to deter the bears. Finally, I decided to think like a bear. Every night when the sun went down, I would urinated around the perimeter of the bear bin. Viola! It worked; no more bears in my garbage. They respected my scent and moved on. I adopted to their lifestyle. Just don’t let the neighbors catch you!!

On a recent family gathering with my granddaughters, grandniece, and grandnephew and various cousins. Age from 3 to 10, my wife and I thought it would be cool to have them write a book. We came up with an elephant as the main character, then asked the children ten questions: color of your elephant, name, favorite food, etc. When compiled the answers, and this is what we came up with.

Is there God. Is God Real? Is God Good? The Ten Commandments. Who is our Creator? Adam and Eve. Jesus. What is Heaven? Hell? Who is Satan? Who created Earth, the sun, the moon. Life and death. What makes a person Good, Bad, or Evil. Many questions for nonbelievers.

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Sharing the gospel to an Atheist in Walmart! Pray for Him 🙏 By @zachary_impellicceiri #dailydevotional #dailydevotion #Godisreal #jesuslovesyou #christian #Christiancontent #christianreels #motivation #Inspiration #truth #instagramforchristians #TheChristiansDeck | The Christian's Deck | thechristiansdeck · Original audio

Sharing the gospel to an Atheist in Walmart! Pray for Him 🙏 By @zachary_impellicceiri #dailydevotional #dailydevotion #Godisreal #jesuslovesyou #christian #Christiancontent #christianreels...

The Grapevine…

The last of the great generation.

Are the baby boomers the last of the great generation, perhaps? We were born after World War II. We all heard the stories of the war and the Great Depression. Our parents struggled, especially if they were children of immigrants like mine. They had nothing and gave us everything they didn’t have. How noble. They went from having nothing to giving us their all. I was content in a one-bedroom apartment in Greenwich Village. There were five of us squeezed into barely 900 square feet of space. Living quarters were scarred after the war; all returning needed an apartment. My parents eventually moved into a 3-bedroom apartment in the 1960s. Others fled the city for the suburbs, giving us a better childhood.

That’s where it all started! I was spoiled with a basketball and baseball glove; I had it all! Growing up, we were all in the same boat, not having a lot of money. Our parents saved nickels and dimes for that down payment for a house—probably two grand for a twenty thousand dollar house. We watched and learned about the struggles; they stayed happy and taught us respect. Yes, sir; no, madam. They took us to church; we all dressed up for Easter, and we attended midnight mass on Christmas Eve. We traveled on holidays to see our grandparents.

That’s when we blew it! The eighties gave way to greed; corporations grew and grew. Finally, we had enough money for our kids, and we spoiled them. We started the problem that exists today; it is our fault. We were so focused on giving them a better childhood than us that we lost sight of the meaning of living. My wife and I have four children: a doctor, a teacher with a master’s, a Michelin chef, and a savant. We gave them all the tools they needed for a successful future. We thought we were doing the right thing. I love my grandkids very much; they have everything and more. How can a child possibly show appreciation when they have it all?

We shower them with love, affection, and lots of stuff. They forget, “Thank you; you’re welcome.” Respect is long gone. When a kid is bullied in school or cyberbullied, oh, give me a break and delete those unwanted messages. The bully and his prey are called into the principal’s office. “Bobby, you must not say those things to Jimmy; he is offended.” Offended, come on, when we went to school, you settled this stuff after the school bell rang. Outside, down and dirty, with fists blaring and noses bleeding. We coddled our children. I had two older sisters; sh*t, I was bullied right there; they told me I was adopted. When my first sister was born, my parents handled her like crystal. When the second sister was born, she was handled—maybe not like crystal but more like an expensive pair of glassware. By the time I was born, I could go outside and play in the streets at six years old. I played in vacant lots with tons of broken glass. I was on my own. I dodged cars and had strangers hold my hand to cross the street. “Have somebody cross the street with you,” my mother would yell from our fifth-floor window.

I wasn’t abused, but I was slapped for having a wise month by my parents. I needed only one slap to put my buttocks to keep me in order. I lived in constant fear: “Wait until your father comes home.” This scared the crap out of me, and looking back, my dad never hit me.

I realize it is ultimately the child’s responsibility to behave accordingly. You can have two children and spoil them identically, and they may have different results; one can be a spender and cry baby, and the other could be a minamilist.

I worked from the time I was fifteen, and my parents saved money for me. I was never much of a saver when I grew older, but I was taught to save for a rainy day. It was up to me to continue.

Family traditions: what happened there? Holiday meals with relatives—I know the younger generation is trying to establish their own traditions, duh. That’s not traditional. Why must everything be changed? Why? Because they are spoiled and bored. Our generation stopped a war by protesting at the colleges. They protest today because their feelings are hurt. Oh, please.

Wake up, or woke up! Spend more time with your kids; take them to the park. Limit time on devices. They made fun of us in the fifties when I had my plastic cowboy cap gun and holster. They said I would grow up and be violent. Now eight-year-olds are watching videos of mass military shootings, naked women, and who knows what else? Don’t get me wrong. I go to the gun range often and like naked women. I am an adult, so I’m told. I hope that my great-grandchildren, whom I will never know, come to realize that life is more than devices and possessions, so they can forge ahead and be the next great generation.

You heard it through the grapevine.

Getting Old

I know we all heard the stories about aging, aging gracefully. Fifties the new forties, sixties the new fifties and seventies the new sixties. I’m here to tell you its all bullshit! I just turned seventy, my mind thinks I’m fifty, until I get down on the ground with out having a plan on how to get up.

Things happen gradually, when someone asks you if you can remember your childhood phone number, you proudly recite it with that smug look. However, you can’t remember the password you created yesterday. Another sign of getting old is when you think you lost your glasses, and their on top of your head. Can’t find your phone, you borrow some else’s to call your number and soon realize you can’t remember your cell number, but you remember you childhood phone number which isn’t doing you much good right now. You hope someone calls your cell. Then you remember its on mute because of too many telemarketers.

Walking into a room and forgetting why you walked into the room in the first place.

Its not all dismal, you try to save money and clip coupons, which you never use. You buy BOGOs and forget you have enough paper towels in the garage to clean up an oil spill in the ocean.

My all time favorite is watching a movie I have already seen. Half way through the movie it hits me, I’ve seen this movie before, but can’t remember the ending. So, I get to watch it all over again, just like a new movie. You walk past a bathroom and figure, what the hell, I might as well go while I’m here.

My tip on investing when you get old, don’t buy green bananas.

Is investing in copper a good investment? Whether investing in copper is a good investment or not depends on several factors, including the investor’s goals, risk tolerance, and investment horizon. Here are some key points to consider regarding investing in copper:

1. Copper is a cyclical commodity: The demand for copper is closely tied to the overall health of the economy, particularly in sectors like construction, manufacturing, and infrastructure. When the economy is growing, demand for copper typically increases, driving up prices. However, during economic downturns, copper prices tend to decline.
2. Supply and demand dynamics: Copper is a finite resource, and its price is influenced by the balance between supply and demand. If new copper mines are brought online or existing mines increase production, it could lead to an oversupply and lower prices. Conversely, supply disruptions or increasing demand from emerging economies like China and India can drive prices higher.
3. Industrial usage: Copper is an essential material in many industries due to its excellent electrical and thermal conductivity, as well as its resistance to corrosion. It is widely used in electrical wiring, plumbing, and various industrial applications. The growth or decline of these industries can impact copper demand and prices.
4. Investing options: Investors can gain exposure to copper through various instruments, including copper futures contracts, copper mining stocks, exchange-traded funds (ETFs) that track copper prices, or physical copper (e.g., copper bars or coins).
5. Volatility and risk: Like many commodities, copper prices can be volatile and subject to significant fluctuations due to various factors, including global economic conditions, geopolitical events, and supply disruptions. Investing in copper carries risks, and investors should be prepared for potential price swings.

Ultimately, the decision to invest in copper should be based on thorough research, an understanding of the copper market dynamics, and an assessment of one’s investment objectives and risk tolerance. It may be advisable to consult with a financial advisor or conduct further research to determine if copper suits your investment portfolio.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2p2Jwt9VZDU

Look at this short video. This is exactly how NOT to act if you are pulled over by a police officer for a traffic infraction. What a POS idiot.

https://www.facebook.com/100064446381691/posts/pfbid02d2SQgYyP3KtQitMosfSFNPo8k5sgehEWehCxW3f29BTywqVT96iyfUysDUHG2GFZl/?mibextid=9drbnH

facebook.com

Entitled man has no idea why he’s being pulled over | He thinks he’s above the law… 🙄 | By Daily Mail VideoFacebook

He thinks he’s above the law… 🙄

Every Memorial Day saddens me, not just because of the lives lost during our wars, also my father died on Memorial Day weekend. Is been 55 years since his passing. I mourn each year. Now think of all the family members who mourn their loved ones. I have a friend who posts a picture of her Uncle Patsy, who died in 1943 during World War Two. A relative she never knew who gave his life so we are able to have BBQ’s, camping trips, and picnics. Potential that will never be achieved follows all our lost soldiers. Some soldiers who returned are still battling their demons. Most of my proceeds from my book sales are donated to Wounded Warriors Program. Maybe instead of that extra case of beer over the weekend, make a donation to this program, or any other program that supports our soldiers. Remember they gave their lives for us, its not a joyous holiday. Enjoy your holiday BBQ’s and such, please remember the true meaning of the holiday. When having your first drink salute them for their sacrifice.

Florida the land of retirees, oranges and Mickey Mouse. For years Florida has been a safe haven for old folks. The weather is ideal once you get passed hurricanes and alligators. Every state requires acclimation. When I lived in the mountains the air was thinner so it took time to get acclimated. Water takes longer to boil. When I lived in the city everything moved fast. Florida you think moves slow, well let me inform you it doesn’t. Maybe back in the day, but lately the traffic is out of hand. The influx of norther people has changed the state. No longer grandma and grandpa, big corporation set up shop. During Co-Vid when we were isolated, working remotely seemed to be the answer. It’s true the weather is great in the south. But where is the south? The Mason Dixon Line actually borders Pennsylvania. I guess south Philly is really the south. Whereas Florida is really in the south, Key West being the southern most point of the USA. How about the Deep South? Alabama and Mississippi, you can’t get anymore south as far as culture. You know you’re in the south when you start saying, “Y’All.” The food is different, the music is also different. My big acclimation has been the bugs. Have you ever seen mosquitoes in Louisiana? They can swoop down and pick up a little dog. Being Italian and loaded with that wonderful aroma of garlic I thought I was immune. No way! Roaches as big as mice, you’ll always know when its humid, they suddenly appear everywhere. Rats, yep we got them too, fruit rats, sounds much nicer than sewer rats. Lizards are everywhere, they used to be a bright green color like the Geico lizard. Then black northern lizards moved in and ate the green guys, evolution? Housing prices have doubled in the past five years, gas and food are at an all time high. The cost of living is so high for us elderly that we see every mouth our savings dwindle. $500.000 for a shack, but it has location. I have been checking the prices of houses in Pennsylvania lately. Some Florida half million dollar shack is $250,000. Maybe I’ll trade in my suntan lotion for a snow shovel and retire up north.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jd5PfO4P6g4

The Curse of the Sopranos

Most everyone has seen the Soprano’s, one of the greatest television shows ever. I was a late comer to the Sopranos when it started in 1999. I was working nights and didn’t have HBO. My sister in New York would call me and tell me about this new mafia comedy set in New Jersey. Of course I knew Jersey mobsters growing up, they differed from New York mobsters. Now, rasicm comes in all shapes and sizes. I was writing for a local newspaper and I was the food and wine editor. Some other writers, who studied journalism were on the staff. They never paid me any mind until the Sopranos, each Monday morning when the discussions should have been about current events, turned to discussions about the TV show, which I had never seen. Always asking me what do this mean, or what does that mean. One question which took me a while to figure out was, what does, “Maname?” I would answer I don’t know what you mean. Then one day I figured it out, “Madonna Mia.” Mother Mary or my mother was the answer.

My sister would still call and ask if I saw the show. I still never saw it. Yes, I am a New York Italian. Not all of us were in the mafia. If you want to piss off and Italian, put ice in your wine, and ask him about the mafia. We all knew who they were growing up. Suddenly, I was looked at as a once member. I tried to dispel this theory, but to now avail.

My sister would call and say have you seen the show and finally I did. It’s a friggin comedy! And the funny part all the ‘boys’ were comics in real life. I remember drinking with Ralph Gigante and he made me pee my pants. I recall when I was treated unfairly in a neighborhood business deal Ralpie spoke on my behalf. He said watch this, we walked into the shop of the unfair person took one look at Ralpie, “The Beast.” and cowarded on the floor pleading, “don’t tell Vinny, please!” The intimidation was a comedy act, like the Sopranos.

I was really perceived as a New Jersey mobster, I would say, “I’m from New York ,” it didn’t make a difference. Fast forward to 2008, I return to New York armed with incomparable wine knowledge. No New York restaurant would hire me, I was too New York and represented the mob. This was difficult to overcome. I was home and I didn’t fit in. Fast forward once again to 2022. My financial advisor shows up at my home one afternoon with real bad news. The first thing he says is, “don’t hit me, but I lose 20 percent of your investment, “please don’t hit!” What the fuck! I think, he’s watching too many Soprano shows. Yes, I am intimidating, I’m big with broken fingers from boxing, and I’m Italian! Now I get it! Okay lets fast forward one more time to 2023. My wife and I at the deli counter ordering cold cuts, that’s what we call them,not sandwich meat, cold cuts. I ask the deli man for a half pond of capicola. My wife asks what’s that, and I answer ‘gabbagoul.” Looking shocked she says, “that’s what Tony Soprano eats!”

The problem with racism is that the book IS judged my its color. Some parts may be true. One time my daughter was having a problem with a guy she worked with in California. Me living in Florida told her, “you know I’ll be on the next flight out, just to talk to him.” And I add, “tell him where I was born and show him a picture and ask him, “do you what to meet my dad?”

The guy never bothered her again. My own daughter was scared of my appearance, but she knew better, she knew me.

Please don’t fear me, and please don’t piss me off.