TIME AND PLACE

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Twenty or thirty years from now, when I’m napping in the nursing home or puttering in the poorhouse (depending on where the Republicans have taken us by then), I want my family and friends to remember that I once did something besides sit in front of the TV shouting obscenities at piggy politicians of the fascist persuasion and drooling into my cream of wheat. I want to prove I once rode elephants… Read More