Even In My Own Life, There Are

I Think For The Foreseeable Future, The Truth Is Going To Be Awful And Funny All At The Same Time.

First Of All, I Wish I Could Grow A Beard.

This Is Not To Say There Are Not Chicagoans. But I Would Suggest That They Are A Nomadic People, Whose Lost Home Exists Only In Their Minds, And In The Glowing Crystal Memory Cells They All Carry In The Palms Of Their Hands: A Great Idea Of A Second City, Lit With Life And Love, Reasonable Drink Prices At Cool Bars, And, Of Course, Blocks And Blocks Of Bright And Devastating Fire.

To Want To Become The President Is, I Think, Such A Bizarre Ambition That It Is Automatically Deranging.

I Know Electric Knives Are Excellent For Carving Turkeys That Have Had Their Bones Removed And Been Forced Into A Mold To Shape Them. Please Note That Those Turkeys Are Called Hams.