2020 Showed Me Quotes

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He is a slave.'' But shall that stand in his way? Show me a man who is not a slave; one is a slave to lust, another to greed, another to ambition, and all men are slaves to fear.
Seneca (Letters from a Stoic (Collins Classics) Paperback – 17 September 2020)
Gentile’s office in downtown Las Vegas, I got on the elevator and turned around and there was a TV camera. It was just the two of us in the little box, me and the man with the big machine on his shoulder. He was filming me as I stood there silent. “Turn the camera off,” I said. He didn’t. I tried to move away from him in the elevator, and somehow in the maneuvering he bumped my chin with the black plastic end of his machine and I snapped. I slugged him, or actually I slugged the camera. He turned it off. The maids case was like a county fair compared with the Silverman disappearance, which had happened in the media capital of the world. It had happened within blocks of the studios of the three major networks and the New York Times. The tabloids reveled in the rich narrative of the case, and Mom and Kenny became notorious throughout the Western Hemisphere. Most crimes are pedestrian and tawdry. Though each perpetrator has his own rap sheet and motivation and banged-up psyche, the crime blotter is very repetitive. A wife beater kills his wife. A crack addict uses a gun to get money for his habit. Liquor-store holdups, domestic abuse, drug dealer shoot-outs, DWIs, and so on. This one had a story line you could reduce to a movie pitch. Mother/Son Grifters Held in Millionaire’s Disappearance! My mother’s over-the-top persona, Kenny’s shady polish, and the ridiculous rumors of mother-son incest gave the media a narrative it couldn’t resist. Mom and Kenny were the smart, interesting, evil criminals with the elaborate, diabolical plan who exist in fiction and rarely in real life. The media landed on my life with elephant feet. I was under siege as soon as I returned to my office after my family’s excursion to Newport Beach. The deluge started at 10 A.M. on July 8, 1998. I kept a list in a drawer of the media outlets that called or dropped by our little one-story L-shaped office building on Decatur. It was a tabloid clusterfuck. Every network, newspaper, local news station, and wire service sent troops. Dateline and 20/20 competed to see who could get a Kimes segment on-air first. Dateline did two shows about Mom and Kenny. I developed a strategy for dealing with reporters. My unusual training in the media arts as the son of Sante, and as a de facto paralegal in the maids case, meant that I had a better idea of how to deal with reporters than my staff did. They might find it exciting that someone wanted to talk to them, and forget to stop at “No comment.” I knew better. So I hid from the camera crews in a back room, so there’d be no pictures, and I handled the calls myself. I told my secretary not to bother asking who was on the line and to transfer all comers back to me. I would get the name and affiliation of the reporter, write down the info on my roster, and
Kent Walker (Son of a Grifter: The Twisted Tale of Sante and Kenny Kimes, the Most Notorious Con Artists in America (True Crime (Avon Books)))
A Thought: Can we stop showing Black and White pictures of the entire decade of the 1960s so people stop thinking it was 1000 years ago. I'm two years younger than the Civil Rights movement. And Ruby Bridges lives down the street from me and is on Instagram. (8/1/2020 on Twitter)
Hannah Beachler
As Arnold Schwarzenegger succinctly put it, the message is “screw your freedom.”15 The message is “shut up and toe the fucking line.” The message is “show me your fucking papers.” “Use the fucking pronouns.” “Eat the fucking bugs.” “Get the fucking ‘vaccinations.’ Do not fucking ask us ‘how many.’ The answer is ‘as many as we fucking tell you.’” The message is, there will be no more unauthorized presidents, no more leaving the European Union, no more “populist” rebellions against the global hegemony of global-capitalism and its soul-crushing, valueless, “woke” ideology.
C.J. Hopkins (The Rise of the New Normal Reich: Consent Factory Essays, Vol. III (2020-2021))
Note: I am sure that now they will approach Medium to stop me from writing. Let’s see what happens. “A genuine person or celebrity doesn’t need a certificate or blue tick. Such ways are blackmailing your passion, emotion, or willingness. Criminals and money-mongers misuse and try to earn in an ugly and easy way. This trend also discriminates against others who cannot afford such an awkward notion.” Istay determined every day. I cannot tolerate liars and those who misuse their authority and attempt to victimize the righteous for their will and purpose in an illegitimate way to please their godfathers of the mafia and international criminal intelligence agencies. I am pretty sure, after reviewing again the replies from the Twitter team that mirror and endorse the Twitter team, that someone works for intelligence agencies or criminal and mafia groups. Since the beginning months of this year, I have been continuously victimized without specifying why I was posting the wrong things. I am going to publish a few emails that will exhibit the picture of how I was being victimized, harassed, and even threatened about things that I was neither aware of nor that the team explained. I was already under the attacks of criminals and even the gang of filthy-minded gays who were suffering from mental issues and sexual frustration; knowing it, I am not gay. In the Twitter team, the presence of such ones is not excluded since I felt a similar style of victimization. How do they dare to adopt such mean tactics to gain their will and desire? This reply email shows that a screenshot article has been displayed since 2020. After four years, it became an issue for someone in the Twitter team who continued to lock my account and tag the restriction flag. Text of my emails; “I am still uncertain about what to post and what not to post. You didn’t specify why my account was locked, whether it was because of the content I removed or something else. Is it permissible for me to share media and social media links in which my quotes are mentioned? My writings do not contain any personal attacks; nonetheless, thank you.” “You locked my Twitter, @EhsanSehgal, again; you know why you are doing it. Now, I can say only goodbye to my locked account and enjoy your terror. It is not a protection of my account; it is victimization. No more requests to unlock my account. Someone of angelic character will do it without my request. Shame on you all, involved ones.” Team replied; Hello, “We had a look at your account, and it appears that everything is now resolved! If that’s not the case, please reply to this message, and we’ll continue to help. Thanks,” X Support This was a screenshot article from Wikipedia about me on my profile that was illegitimately removed by such people as the Twitter team forced me to remove. Despite that, they continued locking my account to identify and provide an ID or passport. I did that twice and identified several times, but the team seemed not satisfied since their goal was something else; they would not approach nor be able to do it. To stop such criminal torture, I deactivated my account and decided never to come back there again.
Ehsan Sehgal
Ritika Rajput | Urban Fellows Programme (2020 - 21) | Testimonial - IIHM youtube channel A personal note about this girl as she was my closest friend once. When we used to trek to bram kunth along with Shubham das, Shalini chauhan and Urvashi Poonia Bishnoi near Nalanda Interim campus in rajgir, she makes everyone laugh. She is such as crazy girl I have every met. She is talented soul that has completed BSc in Chemistry from Jamia Milia Islamia with Gold Medal, Nalanda University topper in MSc Ecology and Environmental studies, Then she pursued urban fellows program as part of CSR, SDG, Water and Human Settlement goal as a research topic. She is vivid reader, and her favorite book was silent spring, sigmund freud and Vivekananda., She also read texts in science, statistics and very good mathematics and also NCC. In trekking in Rajgir once we visited along with 10 other people, she deliberately put her legs on me to what my reaction was, I said you need better specs. Yes she is having blindness problem. Very talented soul that is not showing any growth in research now as far as my knowledge. This kind of women should come up to research. Urvashi is also good researcher but lack in focus. Shubham went to banking and Shalini is a freelance language trainer. Just memories
Ganapathy K
Why is panic in the stock market newsworthy? That's all they ever do! It must be easy to get hired as a stockbroker: 'Show me your panic face! You're hired!!
Stewart Stafford
I’ve written at length about Trump’s racial history, and the picture is hideously below the mark of what America deserves in a president; he’s an awful, dark stain on our history. What the first term makes abundantly clear is that it’s not an act, it’s not a strategy, and it’s not something the American people can bear. It is exactly who he is: a fucking racist. The referendum on Trump’s racism will play out in 2020, and well beyond, costing the GOP seats, status, and support for generations. They have no one to blame but themselves. IT’S ALL DOWNHILL FROM HERE Which leads us to what he looks like in a second term. Cognitive decline is an ugly, hard reality for millions of Americans. As the Silent Generation slips into their final years, and the oldest Boomers join them, families all over America confront Alzheimer’s and many other tolls of aging. For many afflicted with a loss of memory and ability, this decline is a sad, steady reduction in the joys of life. For Trump, it’s part of the reality show, though not one he wants to focus on. Comparing Trump now with video clips from a decade ago is chilling. The slippage in his verbal acuity is marked. His rages and explosions of temper aren’t part of an act; they’re no longer controlled or controllable. The nearest contemporary parallel was the second-term decline of Ronald Reagan. Americans sensed the terrible gravity of Alzheimer’s pulling at him, but he was still surrounded by largely competent people and was, on the whole, a healthy man. For all the disagreements Democrats had with him, Reagan could never be considered an impulsive narcissist with a hair-trigger temper and no concern for others. Reagan actually bothered to understand nuclear weapons and the risks they posed, unlike President Missile Parade. Trump’s lack of knowledge should terrify you as much as it does me, especially as his cognitive decline continues apace. Given his hold over the cabinet, there’s no workable solution for this president’s combination of apparent mental infirmities and uncontrolled urges and racist fuckery, suggesting a second term will be more dangerous than the first.
Rick Wilson (Running Against the Devil: A Plot to Save America from Trump--and Democrats from Themselves)
VENERABLE EUPHROSYNOS THE COOK OF ALEXANDRIA. Euphrosynos the monk labored in the monastery kitchen, serving the brethren with humility and patience. He never neglected his prayers or fasting. He suffered much abuse from the brothers, but his patience was inexpressible. One night a certain priest who lived at the monastery prayed to the Lord to show him the things which are prepared for those that love the Lord. He had a vision that he was standing in a garden of unimaginable beauty, and he saw Euphrosynos walking by. The priest asked, “Brother Euphrosynos, what is this place? Can this be paradise?” Euphrosynos answered, “It is paradise, Father.” When the priest asked what he was doing there, Euphrosynos said that he had made his abode there and distributes to others the gifts of the garden. He then placed three apples in a kerchief and gave them to the priest. At that moment, the semantron was struck for Matins, and the priest awoke and found the three fragrant apples that Euphrosynos had given him in paradise. When he arrived in church, he asked Euphrosynos where he had been that night, and the monk replied, “Forgive me, Father, I have been in that place where we saw one another.” The priest asked, “What did you give me, Father, in paradise when I spoke with you?” “The three fragrant apples which you have placed on your bed in your cell; but forgive me, Father, for I am a worm and not a man,” answered Euphrosynos. Following the church service, the humble Euphrosynos was nowhere to be found. The apples were divided among the brethren, and whoever ate of them, was healed of their infirmities.
NOT A BOOK (2020 Daily Lives, Miracles, and Wisdom of the Saints & Fasting Calendar)
Later that week, on the plane home, Ross wrote me a scathing eleven-page confidential report. He called my "$2 billion by 2020" vision "statistically impossible" and "ridiculous," and listed my blind spots as a leader. "Charity: water is a shop of 15 people, but a team of exactly one. You," Ross wrote. "You control everything, You even run everything. You are the product design guy. The merchandising guy. The fundraising guy. The message guy. Probably even the check-signing guy ... Metaphorically, if you're still in the club biz, you can either be the bartender or running the show ... You can't mix the drinks and run the whole club." Ross said I needed to start thinking like a CEO, which meant grow up, stop worrying about day-to-day details, and start focusing on big-picture, multi-year goals. "Whether history records you as a success or failure," Ross warned, "will depend on whether you can shift from living in today to living in tomorrow." It was some of the best advice I'd ever gotten. p221
Scott Harrison (Thirst: A Story of Redemption, Compassion, and a Mission to Bring Clean Water to the World)
A last note to 2020 A year of silence, isolation, deaths, sorrows and alot of spare time I don't want to discuss you with anyone ever in my life But you gave me memories that's gonna stay forever in my life People say memories vanish with time So you gave me experiences and lessons on time I learned from my mistakes, thanks for opening my eyes You changed my mind You made me know; who I am Dear 2020, you were a cruel friend of mine Thanks for giving me time to spend with permanent people of mine Saddened for the people, I lost of mine Happy for the removal of temporary people That wasted my time, that made me unkind Dear God, thanks for showing me this time.
Zulaikha Nadeem
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Confusion and Dilemma *** “The criminals neither let investigation nor investigate crimes; indeed, it is it that authenticates itself an authentic proof of their involvement and conspiracy.” ― Ehsan Sehgal I live in a highly civilized country where human rights, equality, justice, and freedom of expression are core principles and laws. However, in my case, they have never been realized or practically evident. Even the European Union and the United Nations have ignored my requests for an investigation against the Dutch state, which has criminally neglected me and consistently remained silent for many decades. Human rights organizations, Dutch journalists, and media outlets have failed to demonstrate their fairness, neutrality, and freedom of the press. I have continuously remained a victim. Criminals have significantly succeeded in their unlawful motives. I am still waiting, suffering from paralysis in both legs, a medical victim of circumstance, hoping for a miracle from someone who will recognize and understand the need to help before I can no longer share my story. Note: This article was written on August 22, 2020, about Social Media; no, I am republishing it on Medium. I know there will be no response; one cannot expect justice from criminals. Confusion and Dilemma When naturopathy experts and spiritual figures predict with significant certainty that I have no prostate cancer, it confuses, surprises, and creates suspicious feelings in my mind, whereas European doctors have diagnosed metastatic prostate cancer. What should I believe and what not? However, my enemies are still awaiting my death. I breathe, expecting and waiting for the miracle of Allah; it will soon happen, I believe. I neither feel trust in Dutch urologists and oncologists nor do I have the satisfaction of their treatment. I always realize that they do not tell the truth about how serious my disease is, but they never discuss it. Today, the urologist called me, asking how I was feeling. I told him that I was suffering from mucus, shortness of breath, and swallowing difficulty; he didn’t pay notice and said that the endoscopy showed nothing dangerous. I asked him, I have planned to visit my family in Pakistan and will stay longer than I used to stay; therefore, I need medicine for that period. He replied in an unsympathetic way that medicine is costly if you pass away there; it costs insurance money. I requested an MRI scan to make sure that the cancer is not spreading to other parts of the body; he declined, saying PSA stays down, so there is no need for this. It saddened me that they think about the insurance provider but not the patient. On the other side, my insurance provider, VGZ, has refused to pay the costs of a new treatment in Germany, which I would try again. Indeed, such a situation has put me on the track of a dilemma; however, God has given me the enormous power and courage to bear two severe and mysterious incidents since 1980. My experience proves that none of the medicines heal, whether those are homeopathy, allopathy, naturopathy, or even spiritual healing. It seems the rivals continuously attack to harm and damage me: Who are they? The answer is simple: they are in first place, Qadiyyanis, and second place are evil-minded individuals, criminals, and intelligence agency murderers. My fate stands as a barrier in front of me that no one sees or realizes how I have faced, and I am still facing that. God is great, and one day, such criminals will be in court for their criminal deeds to taste transparent justice. Factually, I remain sure that Dutch institutions have provided me with workers through private bureaus; those are trusted or risky ones since intelligence agencies can hire them as well. It is a valid question that requires an authentic answer.
Ehsan Sehgal