Best thing you'll read TODAY: Thread tells amazing TRUE story, destroys whiny SJW narrative about Apu

This thread is long, but the story is so amazing and wonderful, it’s worth your read.

Especially if you’ve been listening to every hyena and harpy on the planet complaining about the Apu ‘stereotype’ from The Simpsons …

Trust us.

Posted without further comment:

Everybody has an opinion about Apu, but did they ever talk to someone who owned a convenience store or gas station or work in one or grow up in one? You know, like my dad and I? #simpsons #apu

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

As someone who spent many weekday afternoons after school in the freezing cooler of my dad's Texaco reading or finishing homework while eating Jamaican beef patties and sipping fountain drinks, I have a few stories to tell of how hard my dad and mom worked to make a better life.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

This story starts in 1968, when my dad came here at age 17, the youngest of four brothers who would all emigrate from Nadiad a small town in Gujarat, India. Of course, he barely spoke English. But guess what, he pumped gas during the cold nights in Forest Hills, New York.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

while he got his electrical engineering degree at Fairleigh Dickinson University. He did learn English by listening to Marv Albert broadcast Knicks game during those great Red Holzman teams of Frazier, Bradley and Reed.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

Then he got married in 1975 to my mom who was 19. He was 25. My dad worked for different engineering firms, including Merck. But something was chewing at him. He wanted to be his own man.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

Later he bought a pizzeria called "Pizza Land" the same name as the famous Sopranos landmark. I remember listening to Starships's Built This City playing while I learned to master pinball. My mom was pregnant in her third trimester. with my brother and delivering pizzas.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

They had enough of the cold and the snow and decided Florida with its palm trees and sunshine was a better fit. In 1986, in our green station wagon we moved to Deland, Florida where my dad bought a Phillips 66. We lived a mile away on a rural dirt road.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

I remember spending many hours at the store. A sweet old man named Earl lived on the property in his RV. After school, my mom would pick me up from Catholic school and take me there to this surreal place that smelled of gasoline, cigarette smoke and bubble yum.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

My dad and mom worked both shifts. To this day I think we still have cctv tapes of those endless hours of customers drifting in. Truck drivers, bikers, immigrants.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

And oh the food. The pigs feet, the pickeled eggs in the Mason Jars. The moldy hot dogs that tasted so good with relish and ketchup. My dad secretly eating them even as pure vegetarian Vaishnav Hindu.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

I loved the fountain drink dispensers because I could mix all the flavors into a sugary concoction that would have me buzzing for hours while I covertly would open a pack of 88 Topps from a wax box hoping for a Dwight Gooden card.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

We left Deland or Kneeland as I loved to call it and moved to Orlando where my dad bought a Texaco, actually they called it Brett's Texaco. Never found out who Brett was. The gas station was located right off the Kaley Avenue off I-4 next to the old Merita Bread factory

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

with its giant red neon sign. You could smell the fresh yeast from the highway.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

I spent many hours in the cooler. I don't know what it was about it, but I loved sitting on a 12 pack of Busch beer, while wondering what malt liquor or Bartles and James tasted like while I swigged orange slice.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

Oh, I remember incidents. Drunk customers or those that were drugged up asking for cigarettes or more liquor. Occasionally, I'd hear a fucking A-RAB or camel jockey epithet tossed my dad's way. He turned the cheek. Not because he was scared or indifferent. He was after something

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

Something bigger than some dumb ignoramous with a confederate flag chewing skoal could never understand. And I admit I didn't love all those hours in the gas station store doing inventory with the label gun or restocking the shelves of Pepsi.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

I had friends whose parents were doctors or lawyers and peers at school would crack the inevitable Apu joke. Part of me embraced it knowing I had access to things they didn't. I also knew that running a store was hard and blue collar. My mom and dad mopping the floors

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

with that dumbledore beard of a mop. God, that ugly linoleum. Nothing would make a Househunters couple squirm like a gas station floor. There was no task too small they wouldn't do. You know why? Because my brother and I wouldn't have to.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

Gas station life introduced me to America. People I wouldn't see or interact with every day. These were the people who worked for my dad and with him. Mary, the first lesbian woman I ever met, whose partner passed away in a car accident, Don, the wise manager

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

Ok, one comment, damn we love this.

who always offered my dad great advice and succumbed to cancer, or John, the DJ or Herb who became my dad's best friend, a 6'7 former cop who rode a Harley and looked like Samuel Jackson.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

There was also the fear of working behind the counter, the fear of someone stealing candy or cigarettes and running out the door or worse the fear of being stuck up at gun point for a few dollars in the register.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

The saddest day was when one of my dad's closest friends and co-owners was shot in the head by a drugged up, disgruntled customer and my dad had to go to the morgue and identify the body.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

This wasn't a stereotypical depiction of Chester Turley. This was a hard life. I could have followed in my dad's footsteps. He set up everything for my brother and I, but honestly, I was too chickenshit to follow through. I wasn't made of the same mettle that he and my mom are.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

So yeah, I agree with some of your points @harikondabolu, but this is much more than some stereotype. For some of us, we lived this life. It was our story. It's my story.

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018

The engineer, the pizza man, the gas station owner. Each is a wonderful story that inspires me everyday. pic.twitter.com/L5MI6DRP41

— Amar Shah (@amarshahism) April 9, 2018