I shook my head no. For minutes, neither of us spoke a word. It breathed between us, what he had said, the pain of a life suppressed, of happiness never to be.

In the afternoon I drank Coke and wrote poetry.

If America could get a timeout on endless immigration from the Third World, we’d have a chance to reform ourselves and drain these deep sewers of depravity, racism, and xenophobia that liberals keep finding around every corner. They’ll be happier. We’ll be happier. After a half century of taking in the hardest cases in the world, America needs a little “me time.

Wealth is not his that has it, but his that enjoys it.

Written By Benjamin Franklin

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