1890, one hundred twenty one (121) years ago, my great grand-father came here to log the big wood. Married a “local gal”, settled down and raised a family. 1910, one hundred one (101) years ago, my childrens’ mother’s great grand-father came here to build a mill. Settled down and raised a family. My grand-mother was born here, my mother, I and my children. And my grand-children. So too with my childrens’ mother. Six generations we’ve been here.
Six generations of Loggers. Of Ranchers, Miners and Millwrights. Of real men.
It is you, who moved here and turned our hometown into North Sacramento, who are out of place, who don’t “belong” here. It is you, who brought your crack-heads, your homeless, your “investment” schemes and real estate fraud, who are the immigrant. It is you, with your strip malls and over-sized, over-priced crap houses, who are the “alien”. It is you, who are the alien.
And you smell like a dog in heat.
