To those who believe that the system is rigged to keep the poor poor and the rich rich, I call bullshit. My father, who walked out of his third grade class and never returned to school, came to the United States illegally from Mexico in pursuit of the American Dream.
When my father arrived in Los Angeles, he slept on the streets until he could find a job and a place to live. He found part time work as a bartender, cook and courier while holding down a full time job at the Farmer John plant in Huntington Park. At the plant, he unloaded the pigs from the trailer trucks and prepared them for slaughter. All the while, my father saved his money because he wasn’t content being someone’s employee and working for minimum wage or less than that. My father wanted to accomplish three things buy a home, buy a car and have his own business.
My father bought three homes (cash and outright), owned four classic American cars (including a red 1962 Ford Mustang) and managed two successful nightclubs during the 1980s and early 1990s.
So, keep talking your masa pendejos; my father and I know you’re full of shit.