@BarackObama Not one positive response. Your popularity is in the negative. ICE needs to arrest you and deport you back to Kenya. You're the peice of shit I just stepped on. You know the feeling you get when you feel the consistency underneath your shoe.
@atrupar You're a Brainwashed idiot. Do you live in Ca? Wipe that stupid grin off your face and think like a person that has some kind of intelligence.
Actor David Spade raising awareness that a bill was introduced in California to audit where the $20+ billion dollars in missing homeless money went, it passed but then Gavin Newsom VETOED the bill to block the investigation
Yes, this really happened. He blocked bills for an audit MULTIPLE TIMES
Bipartisan bill AB 2903 (unanimous passed 72-0 in the Assembly, 40-0 in the Senate) would’ve forced annual public reports on where the money went
Newsom vetoed it.
Gavin Newsom also vetoed similar bills AB 2570 and AB 2093
“The same broader problem with people paying taxes in California — The homeless, they lose $20 billion, but they want more money for it. That's why people get tired of paying taxes and going, what are you doing? Gavin Newsom just vetoed a bill asking for an audit of where the money for homeless goes. He said, not a chance. You're not gonna see that. That's the problem.”
"My name's Harvey. I'm 68. I work the night shift at TravelCenter truck stop on I-40. Pump diesel, ring up snacks, clean showers. Same blue vest for thirteen years. Truckers fuel up, grab coffee, hit the road. Most are gone in fifteen minutes.
But I see who stays parked.
Like the trucker who'd been sitting in his rig for three days. Engine off. Never came inside except for bathroom. No food, no shower, just sitting.
Fourth morning, I knocked on his cab. "You okay, buddy?"
He rolled down the window. Looked exhausted. "Broke down. Waiting on parts. Can't afford to eat and fix the truck both. Truck wins."
"When'd you eat last?"
"Tuesday."
It was Friday.
I went inside, made him a hot dog, brought chips and coffee. "Store policy. Can't sell day-old stuff."
It wasn't day-old. But he was starving.
He cried eating that hot dog.
Started noticing others. The female trucker sleeping in her cab because shower credits cost too much. The rookie driver rationing gas station food because rookie pay barely covers fuel. Truckers choosing between eating and making deliveries on time.
I began keeping food. "Expired" items still perfectly good. When truckers looked desperate, I'd "find" extras they could have.
Word spread on the CB radio. "Harvey at the I-40 TravelCenter helps drivers."
Then something unexpected. A trucker I'd fed years ago made it big, started his own company. Came back, left $1,000. "For drivers who are where I was."
Now our TravelCenter has a "Trucker Relief Fund." Other truck stops copied it. Fifty-three stops across nine states.
I'm 68. I scan Slim Jims and pump diesel fuel at a highway truck stop.
But I learned, truckers deliver everything we need to survive. And they're often starving, broke, sleeping in their cabs because one breakdown destroys them financially.
Watch your lot. Someone's been parked three days without moving. Someone's choosing between fuel and food.
Find the expired snacks. Offer the shower credit. Sometimes a $4 hot dog is what keeps a trucker from giving up on a road that already gave up on them."
Let this story reach more hearts....
By Mary Nelson
My wife passed in March. Forty-two years of marriage, and then just... silence.
The house felt wrong. Too quiet. Too still. My daughter kept saying I needed "something to care for." I kept telling her I was fine.
I wasn't fine.
One Sunday, I drove to the Arizona Humane Society just to walk around. No intention of adopting anything. Just needed to be somewhere that wasn't my living room.
The volunteer stopped me near the senior wing. "These two have been here eleven months. We waived their adoption fee last week. Still no takers."
Pepper was solid black with a grey muzzle—eight years old, arthritis in his back legs. Salt was pure white with one brown eye and one blue, deaf as a post, same age. Brothers from the same litter, surrendered when their owner went into hospice care.
Eleven months. In Phoenix. In a concrete run with no air conditioning half the year.
"Why won't anyone take them?" I asked.
The volunteer shrugged. "They're old. They're pitbulls. They come as a package deal. People want puppies."
I watched Pepper slowly lower himself onto the cool concrete. Salt curled up right next to him, pressing his white head against his brother's black shoulder. They fit together like puzzle pieces. Like they'd been doing this their whole lives.
Like me and Lorraine used to sleep.
"How much is the fee?" I asked.
"Sir, I told you—it's waived. Nobody wants—"
"I want them."
She stared at me. "Both of them?"
"You think I'm gonna separate two old brothers who've already lost everything once?"
That was four months ago.
Now Pepper sleeps on Lorraine's side of the bed. Salt sleeps on mine. The house isn't quiet anymore—it's full of snoring and the click of nails on hardwood and two grey-muzzled faces waiting by the door when I come home from the grocery store.
They lost their person. I lost mine.
We found each other.
Credit - Thomas meade