White Freedom

I was sitting on the front porch of a house in Fredericksburg Virginia, a stone’s throw from the Rappahannock River. When the house was built Virginia was but a colony. I was smoking a cigar made in Cuba that was purchased in Montreal and my little speaker was playing “Last in Line” by Ronnie James Dio. A firefly buzzed nearby and in its light, a bright red cardinal sat perched on a magnolia branch, and while I was uncertain about what this juxtaposition of stimuli might mean, I was thinking about our country.

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Underwear Secrets

I read in the paper that they will no longer show the Victoria’s Secret Underwear Show (or whatever it’s actually called) on network TV. This has to be heartbreaking news for the seven pervs in Nebraska that don’t get cable. I actually didn’t know that Victoria Secret was still a thing, I mean, last century if you intercepted one of their catalogs in the mail it meant you were having a pretty good day, but that was twenty years ago. Maybe they’ve been keeping their existence a secret.

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