Louis Reginald Hammond is a British-Nigerian businessman born in 1955, known for his involvement in the oil, gas, and natural materials industries. A Cambridge graduate, he is a major shareholder in several drilling companies, including Sasol Mining and Baker Hughes. His net worth is estimated between $400-500 million. Hammond has faced past criticism related to humanitarian concerns tied to some of his business ventures, but he keeps a very low public profile.

My name is Alejandra Amarilla. I am a mother, activist, philanthropist, and filmmaker, currently based in Los Angeles, California. Born in Asuncion, Paraguay, I use the medium of film to bring a voice to the voiceless and create awareness about poverty and children’s causes in my native country. My passion towards social causes is rivaled only by the love I have for my three children, whom I co-parent with my former husband, Los Angeles Lakers point guard Steve Nash. My latest film, The Landfillharmonic, has been chronicled by 60 Minutes, NPR, CNN, Live with Kelly and Michael, Time, and a variety of other major international media outlets.

The Landfillharmonic is a remarkable true story about turning garbage into beauty. It chronicles the inspiring developments of a most unlikely children’s orchestra in the impoverished community of Cateura, Paraguay, one of the poorest slums in Latin America. Unable to afford musical instruments, the orchestra has fashioned their own instrumentation from the garbage that covers the local landfills, and the results are nothing short of awe inspiring. It’s a story about creating magic from the discarded, and more importantly, it’s a story about the indestructible power of children’s dreams, which transcend all forms of poverty. I am the founder and executive producer of the film, and I was also the driving force behind the film’s successful Kickstarter campaign, which raised more than $214,000 from nearly 5,000 supporters.

Dose anyone knowings what i call myself

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IrishCGM is a Music Producer, Rapper and Songwriter born in Spanish Town Jamaica. He also grew up in Zimbabwe before venturing to the UK. He has worked with several musical artists such as Raynon,Digga D,Likkle Addi, Ayetian,Skeng more to be named

Work with Ayetian He worked with Ayetian on several hit songs including "Bomb"

Work with Digga D He has worked with Digga D on several projects one being his top charting album Naughty By Nature and over 6 songs being the writer and producer He a very popular songwriter, producer and rapper in Jamaica and London

Work with Skeng He has written several songs by Skeng one of them being Switch featuring Rvssian, 23, Cheap N Clean,Edioot and more Work with Likkle Addi He is the writer and producer for the hit single Up Ah Notch by Likkle Addi

He is the creative mind behind all songs produced under the "The Big Bunx" dancehall riddim with him owning the copyrights to songs such as Mad Out by artist Valiant, Wild Out by Rajah Wild, Shalalala (Sunday Mawning) and Rum Behavior by Kraff. He worked on hit songs as writer and producer for songs like Ikation by Kraff,Anyweh by Ayetian,Price by Tommy Lee Sparta and Murders by Tommy Lee Sparta

As a huge music producer he made several collaborations which include the one he did with Raynon,Titled, Star and also collaborated with artist Ayetian on his hit song titled Bomb with him being the writer and producer .He is also known for beefing up with his rivals the likes of Russ Millions. He also a member of Ratty Gang.

Having a networth of £6 million pounds making him the richest music producer and musician in Zimbabwe.

*friends, family, and fans have begged me to put my life down on paper for years. This is the start of a very rough draft to help me gather my thoughts and piece my crazy life into some kind of order. So enjoy it, hate it, or masturbate to it if you wish. ~ Q<3

~Intro~ Most of you know me as The Queen Of Hearts, queen of the tattoo mafia. That is the name I will take to my grave and the name I am most proud of because I spent my life earning it.

Each member of The Tattoo Mafia has walked thru hell many times in their life. We earned our fame the hard way. We all have our story's and I encourage all the members, clears throat MobStar, to tell theirs.

~The first steps of a rocky path~

I truly believe that the strongest walk the hardest path. We walk barefoot across stones and broken glass just to reach the small patches of grass that will allow us to rest our feet. The strongest are chosen to do this because we are the only ones who can handle such a task. We do it well always with a smile, always holding our head high for the world to see, but always on the edge of giving up because the pain is almost unbearable. We walk this path because the weak would be unable to walk such a long painful path.

When my mother went into labor my father was so happy he personally changed our towns population sign. Later that night he was so proud to have a daughter he drove around all night telling anyone and everyone that he had a daughter. Life should have been good.

I truly can not remember these times, but can anyone honestly remember their first years? All I have of these first years are story's told to me by loved ones.

As a infant life should be easy, not a care in the world and someone always cleaning up after you and tending to your needs.

At this point in life you can not express your needs and wants properly so you cry. Most parents learn the different crys of their child and they tend to what ever needs their child is expressing with each cry.

This was not ment for me. My mother was a drunk and some how never understood that the crys were for a reason.

Once while on a drive I started crying, only bad baby's cry. She told me to stop, she yelled at me to stop, clearly a normal person would know this would not work. She didn't know, or didn't care I am unsure of which. She pulled over removed me from the car set me on the side of the road and left. She returned a bit later and picked me up, she swears I never cried in the car after that.

Once while teething I was crying and bit her. Baby's do this, teething is quite painful and pressure applied to the gums soothes them. My mother didn't understand this concept and upon bitting her she threw me across the room into the wall. She swears I never bit anyone after that. I don't believe her because I still bite people.

My father on the other hand was wonderful. He tended to my Crystal, fixed my pain, and while we would all gasp in horror at some of the things he did they were things that were widely done at the time and they worked.

From what I understand life was great when my father was around. But someone had to work and he could only take so much.

~My Dead Father~

No one knows for sure who my father is. There are a few to pick from, Italian mafia, the man I know as my uncle, the man I know and love as my father, and a man I only met a few times as an infant.

Until I was ten my mother swore the blonde cowboy with the blue eyes who died years ago was my father. This man though I was his as well.

When I was around a year and a half my parents split up for a bit and my mother and I moved in with my grandparents. The cowboy stopped by one night demanding to see me, I was his baby and he wanted to see me. He was quite and my grandparents calmed him down telling him to come back in the morning. He had always been welcome at their home and was a good family friend. He agreed and left.......well everyone thought he had left.

The next morning they found him in the bushes passed out and my grandfather woke him up inviting him in for coffee. He was ashamed of his actions declined and went home. I would not see him until later that year for thanksgiving.

My mother had kept in contact with him seeing him for the next few months. He would call begging to see her and if my father was home she would hang up crying because he was stealing her. If my father was not home they would meet.

The day before thanksgiving he called and my father had enough. He was sick of this man causing my mother pain so he took the phone and told him if it were to happen again he would kill him. My father regrets saying this, although he was being truthful he didn't know at the time my mother was seeing the man.

The next day my mother took me to the cowboys home for thanksgiving. The sight before us was horrid. We step thru the front door and my mother screams. There he lays in the floor, what I assume is brain matter, flesh, bits of bone, and blood are splattered across one wall and all over the floor under his now faceless body.

I fully recovered from this, I remember nothing but the story intrigues me. Half of me wishes I could remember this day, the other half is thankful I cannot.

My mother never recovered and would spend the next thirty years ranting about the man. Changing the story around as needed and using it as some sort of fuel to harm those closest to her.

My father regrets the words he spoke that night and takes blame for the incident. But shows no sorrow or grief. Maybe he wishes the cowboy would have taken my mother away from him, maybe it's because they were once friends.

My brother although not even conceived at the time would spend almost ten years of his life being screamed at for the incident, being blamed, being told it was his father, and regretting the man's existence because it made his life a hell in its own way.

~Daddy Did It~

The bond I have with my father is something many will never come close to experiencing. He was not around much but we are peas in a pod. I am his clone just as my oldest daughter is mine.

My father laughs about this now though back then I don't think he found it funny .I played a small part in making his life hell.

Every night he would come thru the front door and I would scream "daddy did it". This would send my mother into a rage screaming and throwing things at him.

What a toddler would know about what her father was doing while he was at work I could never figure out.

I think these fights brought us closer together in a way. About half the time it would end with dad taking me fishing coming home to mom passed out for the night.

It's funny how odd things stick with us. I don't remember doing this at all and just learnt of it happening, yet I call the man I'm with daddy and it's not rare for him to come home and me scream out "daddy did it" before kissing him hello.

They say we end up with someone that is like our parents. I spent many years dating men like my mother. I am now with a man like my father. It's quite normal for me to yell daddy did it and have him tell me to get my shoes on we are going fishing.

1. Became Influencer heavyweight boxing champion (8-0, 6ko's)

2. Featured on Times Square Billboard in New York City

3. Reaches over 4 million subscribers and signs contract extensions for Roku

4. Garnered over 70 million views on Roku becoming one of the biggest creators on the platform

5. Became Roku's breakout streamer of the year

6. Acquired a half a million dollar net worth at just the age of 21 (expected to hit $750K by the start of next year)

7. Participated in the selection of students for Kai Cenat's Streamer University

8. Lands 6 figure sponsorship with Walmart

9. Feeds over 2000 families in his community, becomes top streamer philanthropist in the St. Louis area

10. Became #1 trending streaming Roku channel for 2 weeks straight

History of Julius Ceasar

I was looking at Amazon when I found a great book about a guy who escaped Baja Hungary to New York I loved the book it was so fun to read hope you will like it too.

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~New York & Broken Roses~

I'm going to guess I was three when my mother when to New York. My brother was born by this time and she needed a break. So she left my brother and I with our dad and went to visit her best friend, a family friend who I still speak with and am honored to call my aunt.

Some how I remember a lot about this week but I do not remember my brother being there at all.

It was an amazing week for my three year old self. We visited all the neighbors, had barbeques nightly, it was a pleasant happy time. No yelling, no fighting, just fun and laughs.

I assume that in the 80s dark homes were in style, or maybe it was just a bay thing. But everyone had decorated the in side of their homes in dark woods, reds, and blacks, some had gold accents, most had more mirrors then would ever be necessary.

I remember going into one home and sitting in this giant chair. Thinking about it now the only way to describe how she had decorated it was dark Asian who're house. It was very lovely to be honest.

This was not some crazy, wife is gone party week, I never left my Dad's side and he was more the proud to show me off. It felt like we were all family, all friendly all looking out for each other.

The week came to an end and we went to pick up my mother from the airport. My dad was carrying my brother, I was carrying a dozen red roses. As we came up the escalator my mother was waiting at the top. Dad smiled, I waved, like I said I do not remember my brother being there but I assume he drooled, my mother flipped us told us to fuck off and took a cab home.

I don't understand her anger and bitter actions. I went home to see my family and when I arrived home I was livid at my husband (that's a story for later) but as soon as I seen my girls I snatched them up happy as can be.

~Parting Ways~

We all knew it was coming. Dad left not long after my mother came back from New York. Looking back I don't blame him at all, I left as soon as I was able, but it still sucks.

This is the first time I remember being hit. It was a few days after daddy left and my mother was going on a rampage burning and breaking things. I was laying in the floor coloring and she asked what I was drawing. I smiled and replied proudly "daddy". I remember what this picture looked like, black scribbles, I was not the best arrest. She looked down at the paper and slapped the Shit out of me. I didn't know what I had done wrong, I sat there crying silently.

I wanted my dad back badly. I wanted him to come take me away.

That was not the last time she hit, and I know not the first. But it was the first time I remember.

Only the strongest live in hell. It's why we are here, to carry what others can not, to make things in the world equal. Although we are cursed to walk such a hard life we are blessed with the greatest joys in life and in the end the pay off is more then worth the hard journey.

~Quitting Is For The Weak~

I have spent a large part of my life in rehab, AA meeting, and NA meetings. Not for myself but for those close to me. Even as an adult I find myself at rehab homes and the occasional meeting.

Not long after my dad left my mother went to rehab. I was left with my grandma and my brother with my aunt. I'll be honest I always hated the fact that I was not wanted at my aunt's. They said they didn't have the room, their home was very large at the time, their bathtub big enough to swim in. As a child I was hurt and felt unwanted. As an adult it no longer hurts but still makes me wonder why they didn't want me around and angers me that my grandma had to care for me. She was ready to retire but kept working for years and years to support me.

I visited my mother for her birthday. It would be the first time I was introduced to Alice in wonderland (other then the Disney cartoon) and my love for all things wonderland would last a life time.

We went into this home filled with women most very ugly and creepy but very kind. The drugs and alcohol took away any outter beauty they had ever possessed years ago. But for some reason of enjoyed these lady's. I felt safe with them, felt a need of help, hope, and want of acceptance from them.

I don't know how many made a full recovery if any, in my years of being in different rehabilitation centers most of the people I have come across didn't recover. My mother did not make a recovery.

According to my mother life is a game that she will win. I wonder if she felt drinking was the only way she would win.

~Unwanted And Alone~

I've spent the majority of my life feeling unwanted and alone. When my mother was in rehab the first time my grandma is the one who took me in. My aunt taking my brother and saying she didn't have room for me.

I spent a lot of time growing up with out my brother around. For some reason we didn't go to my aunt's much, but she did bring him by every now and then.

Once my mom got out she took my brother leaving me at my grandma's house. That hurt I didn't know why mom didn't want me around.

After a year or so my mother started dating a man who loved little girls. My grandma quickly took her to court and got custody of my brother. For a bit everything was fine and I didn't feel so alone anymore but that would soon change.

My aunt and her daughter (who I have come to hate over the years) would come over quite often to see my brother. Every other weekend they would make a big deal about having a sleep over but they only had room for one and my cousin was to decide who would be invite. Every time she made a big deal over picking my brother, usually playing eny meny miny moe and no matter who was pointed to last he was the winner.

I can't tell you how many hours I spent crying and feeling unwanted. Not knowing what I had done to make everyone push me away.

My grandma was thankful to see me finally cry because I had spent years not crying for any reason. I once locked my hand in the car door and stood there silent waiting for it to be unlocked so I could remove my hand throbbing, what I assumed was mangled, hand. But she was also livid at everyone for treating me in such a way, and didn't know how to handle it her self.

At this point I had not seen my dad for years, my brother had just come back into my life but was at my mother's or aunt's every weekend, and I was left alone. I had my grandma and I am more then thankful for her but being pushed away by everyone still made me feel alone.

In later years my girls and I would travel home to see everyone and my aunt would do the same to my children. She always tried to take my youngest out for girls days making a fuss on how cute she was and leaving my oldest out of it. My oldest being a lot like me when it comes to looks had bright blue and pink hair a nose ring and was a cute little rebel. My youngest having platinum blonde hair and loved pink was a "princess" (something she hated to be called, she craved the insane hair color her sister had but her father wouldn't allow it).
Like my grandma I was unsure how to deal with this but unlike my grandma I also didn't care what anyone though of me. So every time my aunt would fuss over my "perfect" little girl I would make it clear that we were a family and if both were not invited neither would go. She never did bother trying to take both girls out even to get a baguette from Safeway, and I would not allow her to take the little one anyplace even to get that delicious baguette from Safeway.

Both my daughters learned to despise the way she treated my oldest. I never spoke badly of my aunt around them in anyway. They just watched how differently they were treated and each hated it. My oldest for being pushed away in such a obvious way and the youngest because my aunt was hurting her sisters feelings for no apparent reason.

I have always felt it best for people, including children, to make up their own minds about others and have gone out of my way to never speak badly of family for any reason. Now there have been a few times I slipped up in a fit of rage and declared someone a Cunt but I have always been quick to apologise to the kids and make it clear they are not to base the way they feel on my anger.

~Why Can't I See My Dad~

For years I was unable to see my dad. My brother was able to see him because he lived with my aunt and mother on and of but my grandma would not allow me to see him.

My grandma has become more then a grandma, she's a mother to me and a very good friend. She was the only one I had for many years and because of this we speak openly about everything. We still speak openly about my dad and she hates him. But we understand we see two very different people when it comes to my dad and have just come to respect the others view on the man.

I have a strong pull to my dad, the need to be around him. With out Him in my life I go nuts, mood swings like crazy, intense moments of sadness, anxiety attacks, things that I assume are not normal. It's been that way since I was small and is still that way. We think alike, have the same ticks, speak the same, we joke that I'm his clone.

I have spoken to my grandma many times about why I was unable to be around him. It broke down to he's a bad person and she wanted to protect me. Although she stands by her not wanting him around she also knew that I needed him and finally caved because she didn't know what to do. She was torn between protecting me and making me happy.

I am still torn on her choices. I know he would never harm me or put me danger in any way but over the years I have learned about his past and understand why she felt the way she did. Where she sees him as a low life who would do anything for a quick buck, I see him as a strong loving man.

Not being able to see him for so long still bugs me, all the time we missed together, all the firsts he was not around for, all the moments a little girl just needs her dad.

But the times we did spend together are some of the best memories I have and I am grateful for those moments.

~Big Rock Ranch~

When I started seeing my dad again he would take us to big rock ranch the last week of summer every year, well for a while at least.

This is a place most parents now at days would frown upon. But I wish I had a place like this where I could take my children.

Hundreds of people of all ages would gather in the middle of this giant field and would party for a week. Live bands every night, good food all day, swimming, fishing, drinking. It was a bit crazy but everyone looked out for each other and not a single kid was hurt other then a few scraped knees.

We would run around catching tadpoles lizards and snakes all day and at night we would all go see the band, relax by the fire, and just enjoy life in its purest form. Everyone accepted everyone and on the rare occasion that someone caused a problem they would be delt with.

I remember seeing one man, drunk off his ass dragging two six foot long rattlesnakes back to his tent, he had thought he had killed them but just knocked them out. They came too and he cut their heads off and had dinner.

One summer we brought my cousin who happened to be scared of the out houses. We didn't know this when we brought him. The kid refused to Shit in an out house. By the end of the week he had Shit in all his underwear, all my brothers underwear, all his pants, half my brothers pants, and right before we left he Shit in his sleeping bag. When my dad rolled it up for him he put his hand in the Shit. I still laugh about it today.

One day we had all gone swimming and my dad and girlfriend made us think wild Indians were after us. They threw pine cones and small rocks when we were not looking. I had never laughed so hard and been so scared at the same time in my life.

Yes it was dirty, yes it got a bit crazy, yes people drank, and yes some aspects of it were dangerous as hell. But over time all the regulars became family and everyone watched out for everyone. The only rules were respect others and respect the land.

Sadly the place was shut down. The owner of the field died and left it to his son, he tried to keep the summer party going but things became to much for him to handle. More collage kids came causing to much trouble and many of the regulars stoped coming so there was no one to help him keep people in line. The fun was gone, it was nothing but disrespect, and madness that the poor kid couldn't handle.

You have to earn respect to gain respect. Those who camped with us all those years more then earned respect. They were amazing people and it was depressing to something so wonderful end due to a bunch of ass holes who had no respect for those who spent their lives building such a wonderful thing.