On the eve of Arnold's speach at the republican convention, I just had to write this. If you can please see to it that, at least, Chris Matthews, and Ron Reagan get to read this. Arnold really ticks me off.
I don’t like Arnold and never will, and I have personal reasons for the way I feel. He’s no poor immigrant as my grandfather and millions of others were. And, my father almost had a fight with him, but Arnold backed down.
What a girlie-man.
Each time I hear the media say he was a “poor immigrant” I get so angry, I’m surprised I don’t explode. When he came to this country, he was already world famous, in body building magazines. The body builder magazine mogul Joe Weider, took Arnold under his wing, and Arnold worked for him as a fitness model, in southern California. Tough job, he had to pose for pictures. When he wasn’t posing he went to Gold’s Gym in Venice, and worked out, then hung out at Venice beach or Santa Monica beach. The beach. Girls in bikinis. Hmmmm? Poor Arnold. He didn’t have to worry about his next meal, or steroid injection. He didn’t have a family, he only had to think of himself. Once he started making movies, he never had to worry again. He was catered to because of his body building fame. He was privileged then and really never had to struggle like real immigrants.
My father’s father, my grand grandfather, was an immigrant from Romania. He came here by himself, because he didn’t have enough money for his family to come also. He worked, saved money, and sent it back to Romania. When they had enough money eventually the rest of the family could come to America. His wife, three sons, and two daughters. Two more sons were born here, for a total of 7 children. My father was the youngest. My grand father was a real hero, like millions of others who worked hard and long hours, for their families, not notoriety and fame. They settled in the city of Canton Ohio. My grandfather worked at the steel mill, in 140 plus degree temperatures, putting huge plates of red hot steel into a gigantic roller machine that would roll the plates thinner and thinner. They had a small farm for eggs, chicken, milk, and vegetables. My grandmother, rented some of the bedrooms out like a bed and breakfast. This bed and breakfast though was, out of necessity for both parties, not a vacation. The neighborhood was as a ghetto, full of immigrant families, just making enough money to feed and clothe themselves, and maybe some money left over for a bottle of whiskey, to help them forget their struggles, just for the moment. The only way Arnold could know anything about being a “ poor immigrant “ is in the movies. If he, or anyone else, says he was a poor immigrant, they’re insulting the millions of real immigrant families who populate this country.
In the early 1970s my father had an encounter with Arnold. My father had a hamburger stand on the beach in Santa Monica California, the home of the original Muscle Beach. He was a committee member of the original Muscle Beach Gym. He was a weightlifter, I lifted weights, and knew many weightlifters and bodybuilders. My father was in his late fifties at the time, and at this time in his life the hamburger stand was his only source of income. It wasn’t very much. He was also an ex-professional wrestler. Arnold had already won a title or two, as Mr. Universe or Mr. Olympia, I don‘t know for sure. Arnold’s my age now, so he must have been in his early 20s. Arnold and a body builder friend were standing in front of my father’s hamburger stand. When young girls would walk by, Arnold and his friend would make inappropriate, sexual remarks to them. At first my father was polite, by asking him, and his friend, to stop making the remarks to the girls walking by. Arnold and his friend stopped for a while but soon continued doing the same thing. I was not there when this happened. My mother told me about it. She told me, my father had to confront Arnold again. He had to threaten Arnold with bodily harm. Then Arnold stopped, walked away, and never returned. I’ve seen my father confront trouble makers. That’s what he used to call them. He probably said something like this, to Arnold : “ I’ve asked you once. This is the second time. I’m not going to ask you again. Stop talking that way and get out of here, or you’ll wish you never met me. You might be big and think you’re tough, you might even beat me, but I’ll gouge you eyes out, break your nose, and jam it up into your brain. I’ll bite chunks of flesh out of you with my teeth. I‘ll break every one of you fingers. You’ll never be able to hold a pencil again. Then I’ll pick you upside down and drive you into the sidewalk head first. You’ll never look the same, and never be the same again when I’m finished with you. You %&^$@*! Now get the, &*%$@ out of here, before I start to rip you apart, you $#@&*&* !.” That’s pretty close to something he might have said to Arnold. He never had to do any of those things, but he looked and talked as if it was going to be a life or death struggle. No one ever challenged him. When he was young he taught the police force of Canton, Ohio, Jiu-Jitsu, and how to disarm people with weapons. ( knives, guns, clubs etc.). He probably would have hurt Arnold. He probably would have been hurt also. I’m happy to say they didn’t get physical.
Posts: 337 | Registered: Aug 2004
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