Wednesday, February 01, 2006
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When my father pointed at a naked man atop a tall building I became hostage to a scenario that might end in death. The next day, Dad’s words ended my bad dream. “Johnny,” he said “they saved the man on the roof and took him to Saint E’s to see if he’s all there”. He chuckled, “The aerialist is no problem to us, but he might be for those who elected him to Congress.” Washington taught me it’s better to laugh. Perhaps you’d care to join me.
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