All we need is a nuclear bomb to be set off somewhere in the United States, and I think that ought to send them packing. We're between a rock and a hard place. I was born and raised here in the Los Angeles area. I used to think that was a nice heritage for my children. Hah!
California is just about ready to pop like a giant zit.
I was born in Los Angeles on Easter Sunday 1947, at Queen of Angels Hospital, the beautiful one on the hill. During my 1950s childhood growing up in L.A., California was still a big part of the American dream. My mother had moved out from Nebraska via Illinois, my cousin and uncle too. My uncle married an Okie who had come out to work in the peach-packing plants. The majority of our neighbors were from the Midwest U.S.
There were streetcars going everywhere, and summer was a real summertime. The parks were pleasant and relatively safe. We went for boat rides in the man-made lake and we rode Angel's Flight downtown. The grand opening of Disneyland was a BIG deal.
I think the biggest change came in the 1980s, with the real estate boom, a mass influx of East Coasters and the infamous amnesty for illegals. L.A. has not looked back from that time and, among other things, permanent gridlock has begun.
It's a great place for foreigners, they love it. But for those of us whose hearts belong to the U.S.A. and all she stands for, it's time to move to Jesusland.