Raffey
2 min readJul 22, 2020

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Back in the late 1970s, residents of Beverly Hills were all a flutter. An Iranian family had built a home unlike those around them. Based on the news reports, you would think this man's home had turned all of Beverly Hills into a ghetto. People were certain, their property values had gone down. Homeowners demanded the city do something to prevent this from happening again. Given residents penchant for Persian carpets one had to wonder at the fuss.

Come summer, the front page of the local newspaper displayed a photo of a terrifyingly large rat eating his way across an opulent buffet table set for a garden party in Beverly Hills. Investigative reporters soon learned these rats had become common in Beverly Hills (including the famous Beverly Hills Hotel). Once the secret was out, residents demanded the city do something to get rid of the rats. Turns out, the rats were the consequence of the city doing something about the Persian cat problem in Beverly Hills a few years earlier.

You see, coyotes had been killing Persian cats owned by residents in the foothills of Beverly Hills. When residents demanded the city do something to protect their Persian cats, the city had trapped the coyotes and moved them away.

Without the coyotes, the rat population grew so quickly they moved into yards, then homes and buffet tables where they feasted side by side with high and mighty people. Residents threatened lawsuits if the newspaper dared to print another damning photo of the rats in Beverly Hills. They must have pissed off the owners, because next thing we know, there are front page photos of gigantic roaches in the homes of Beverly Hills. Apparently, so many Beverly Hills homeowners are hoarders, their homes are nurseries for roaches. By the time things died down, the idea of living in Beverly Hills made you feel kind of sick.

I tell this true story by way of saying, human beings are ridiculous. Thanks for the memories. I am still laughing.

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Raffey
Raffey

Written by Raffey

Rural America is my home. I serve diner, gourmet, seven course, and homecooked thoughts — but spare me chain food served on thoughtless trains of thought.

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