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Category Archives: Social Commentary

The Politics of “I’m Sorry”…

Johnny Depp’s recent foot-in-mouth incident was not as egregious and did not have the immediate repercussions as country music singer Hank Williams Jr’s comparison of President Barack Obama to Adolf Hitler.

In an appearance on last week’s “FOX and Friends,” Williams said that Obama golfing with House Speaker John Boehner was “like Hitler playing golf with (Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin) Netanyahu.”

OK, let’s go to the dictionary.

Definition of Hitler:

1. An Austrian-born German politician and the leader of the National Socialist German Workers Party:

2. Most commonly associated with the rise of fascism in Europe, World War II, and the Holocaust:

3. Gained support by promoting Pan-Germanism, antisemitism, and anti-communism with charismatic oratory and propaganda.

4. Probably not someone you would compare to a U.S. president who represents everything he would have detested.

Thanks to FOX and the Tea Party, Obama is probably the president who has been compared the most to Hitler even though — with the possible exception of wheelchair-bound FDR — he’s the only one who would have been shipped off to Dachau.

It’s interesting because historically speaking previous presidents have done worst things than passing health care reform. There’s Andrew Jackson and the Indian Removal Act of 1830, which led to the Trail of Tears. And 12 U.S. presidents owned slaves (eight of them did so while in office). Can you imagine the trouble Obama would get into if he owned slaves?

Surely, you ask, Williams did not mean to compare Obama to Hitler? Unlike Depp, the nice people at “FOX and Friends” gave Williams the “Idiot Retraction Option.” This is preemptive to the “Apology Due to Public Outcry.”

Williams declined this option and further embraced the “Sinking Ship Statement.” He stated that “they’re the enemy” and clarified that by “they” he meant Obama and Vice President Joe Biden.

I don’t believe that comparisons to Hitler should be off-limits, as many commentators seem to think, but they just need to make sense and be grounded in reality. Too often they reflect the sad reality that the speaker is unaware of any other appropriate bogeyman aside from Hitler. If you want to ignore body counts but at least have an internally consistent position, compare Obama (godless socialist, per FOX) to Stalin (godless communist, per his MySpace page).

Williams later issued the “Half-Assed and Too Little Too Late” Apology:

“The thought of the leaders of both parties jukin and high fiven on a golf course, while so many families are struggling to get by simply made me boil over and make a dumb statement… I am very sorry if it offended anyone.”

This is similar to Newt Gingrich’s claim that he cheated on his wife because he loved his country so much. Williams made his “dumb statement” out of righteous anger.

ESPN reacted to this by pulling Williams’s intro from Monday Night Football. The song’s title “All My Rowdy Friends Are Coming Over Tonight” was also the text of the telegram Hitler sent Poland prior to invading. This later prompted a sermon from Sarah Palin on her FOX show “Strawman Arguments with Sarah.”

“Hank Williams and what he is going through now, I think it’s a very clear  illustration of a greater societal problem and that is the hypocrisy on the left  — the liberals who can throw these stones at a conservative and they knowing that they’re not going to be held accountable… It’s a one way street and we’re always walking on eggshells, aren’t we? … you know, like, oh geez, if I say that is  somebody going to misinterpret it or spin it as something that is quote unquote  racist or sexist or anything else? But the other side … they can say whatever  they want and nobody calls them out on it. I think it’s pretty disgusting.”

The “nobody” in this case would be FOX News, which calls them out on a daily basis. Shirley Sherrod was fired for statements taken out of context that FOX and conservative bloggers made a stink over.

And isn’t this the example of free-market capitalism that conservatives love so much? The big corporation (ESPN) decided that an individual (Williams) was a liability and parted ways with him. This is business. And his first amendment right to free speech protected him in that the government didn’t arrest him for comparing the president to a genocidal maniac.

I don’t get the priorities here: I should lose my job in the military because I’m gay. I should go bankrupt because I’m uninsured. But I should be able to say stupid things on TV with no repercussions? Well, I guess, the latter freedom does ensure that Sarah Palin remains employed.

 

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Steve Jobs, Willy Wonka, and You…

When Steve Jobs died on October 5, there was a flood of condolesences online. “Online” here generally defined as Facebook and Twitter. According to the people Twitter hires to measure such things, its users commented on the Apple co-founder and former CEO’s death at a rate of 6,049 tweets per second. That’s more that the Twitter-verse cared about the death of terrorist mastermind Osama bin Laden (around 5,000 tweets per second) but significantly less than the comments on Beyonce Knowles’s pregnancy during the MTV Video Music Awards (8,868).

It’s hard to imagine any other CEO’s passing receiving such attention. Warren Buffett might but only if you factored in the people on Facebook and Twitter who confused him with the “Margaritaville” singer.

Jobs was practically as popular as Barack Obama once was and even the president’s fame took a nosedive when he actually became the country’s chief executive. However, the iPad was arguably a more successful product launch than health care reform.

It would probably not offend Jobs to state that he himself was a product, perhaps Apple’s most effective. In his death, he’s been repackaged as a “visionary” and “innovator,” which are nice ways of saying he was more than just an extremely competent businessman. After all, the executives we don’t like wear suits not turtlenecks and jeans. It’s safe to assume the protestors at “Occupy Wall Street” demonstrations took time to mourn Jobs.

Maryann Johanson of Flick Filosopher stated how hearing Jobs say in the unaired 1997 “Crazy Ones” commercial that “the people who are crazy enough to change the world are the ones who do” makes her cry now. That’s quite an impact. And the morning of his death, my Facebook feed was filled with inspirational quotes from Jobs. He was not merely a guy who made a hell of a lot of money (reported net worth of 8.3 billion). He was one of the “crazy ones.” Keep in mind that the commercials featured artists (John Lennon, Bob Dylan, Maria Callas, Alfred Hitchcock, Pablo Picasso, and Jim Henson), trailblazers (Muhammad Ali, Gandhi, Amelia Earhart, Martin Luther King, Jr), and true geniuses (Albert Einstein and Thomas Edison). The only businessmen featured were Richard Branson and Ted Turner — the latter perhaps because they wanted to include at least one figure who was not just metaphorically “crazy.”

Upon reflection, this commercial makes me want to cry, as well, but for different reasons. It’s all rather cynical name dropping for a commercial whose ultimate aim to get you to buy something that most likely would not figure prominently in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.

Did Jobs really “change the world”? Everyone seems to think so, including President Obama, who said that Jobs “was among the greatest of American innovators – brave enough to think differently, bold enough to believe he could change the world, and talented enough to do it.”

It would deny logic to claim Jobs did not alter our society, but this did not occur on a philanthropic level. According to Fortune, Jobs had “had terminated all of Apple’s long-standing corporate philanthropy programs within weeks after returning to Apple in 1997, citing the need to cut costs until profitability rebounded. But the programs have never been restored.” No, Jobs’s true legacy would be what Bud Tribble at Apple referred to as his “Reality Distortion Field” or what I consider his ability to crank up the public’s conspicuous consumption volume to 11. (The RDF might also explain why Jobs’s replacement Tim Cook came off during his first product launch like Doug Henning to his David Copperfield.)

Middle school teacher Heather Wolpert-Gawron wrote on the Huffington Post that she told her students that Job’s death was as if “Willy Wonka has died.” I consider this a not-unreasonable comparison: Wonka was not a farmer who used his factory to revolutionize means of feeding the population. He sold junk food to children and later punished a select few of them for demonstrating the very same gluttony that made him a wealthy man.

We buy a new phone every year. When I was a kid, there was one phone in the house and it was only replaced when it broke — not when Wonka showed up with a new, cooler one a few months later.

The question was posed recently as to whether the U.S., which barely has two nickels to rub together, can afford to provide aid to Somalia — a country that  ranks low on iPod penetration but high on famine penetration. It’s an astounding cognitive dissonance that anyone would ask that question during a time when Apple has revenue approaching $10 billion (although, apparently the company was not profitable enough for Jobs to resume its philanthropy programs).

But no one knows who Bob McDonald is and no one cares about the “hot, new” toothpaste, even if it might help prevent gingivitis. We all want to be able to make a phone call while posting to Facebook that we’re making a phone call while posting to Facebook.

 

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Budapest…

Budapest…

Berlin and Munich have history, Amsterdam has my short-term memory, but Budapest has old world charm. I have longed to visit Hungary since my childhood fascination with Countess Elizabeth Bathory. The Countess is considered the first vampire because at some point, she struck one of her servants so hard she drew blood. Apparently, the guy she had who normally handled her bitch-slapping was on holiday. When she looked at her blood-stained hand, she noticed that it seemed younger than it had before. Rather than examining her life and determining that she was crazy, she began killing young women and bathing in their blood to preserve her youth. There were laws about this sort of thing, even when you’re doing it to poor people. She was believed to have murdered more than 600 women but was only convicted of about 80, which was still a dozen or so above the legal limit for royalty, so she was bricked up in a set of rooms until her death four years later. Attendance at her funeral was only slightly better than the “Lestat” musical.

I did not drink any blood while in Budapest, despite my hotel being on Barnabas street. The hotel had a great view of the Danube river, which divides the Buda and Pest districts. Well, it did if you left your room altogether and walked two blocks to the river. The hotel was the type of place that charged you for everything. The rooms had Internet access but the cost was similar to what Stephen I, King of Hungary, might have paid to have noblewomen come to his rooms and perform pornographic acts while delivering a right-wing screed that wasn’t backed up in fact.

I took a river cruise one night, where I had the “pleasure” (those are irony quotation marks) of meeting the most obnoxious woman in the world, so yes, she was from New Jersey. Her eyebrows appeared to have been trimmed at the Vulcan Salon and Spa in Teaneck. She was visiting Budapest for the weekend but currently working in Prague. She spent a good deal of time complaining about how Czechs were not friendly to her, which I viewed as an example of both their good taste and evidence that even Prague does not have enough beer to make her desirable. It greatly bothered her that they wouldn’t make sandwiches the way she wanted (it’s a Czech restaurant not Subway) or remember to put the sauces on the side per her request (again, it’s a Czech dish, not what Woody Allen called “boiled chicken” run “through the deflavorizing machine.”).

I should clarify that I had nothing to do with her suddenly and accidentally falling into the Danube and drowning. I actually wasn’t even on that river cruise. It was another cruise entirely. I only heard about this woman from a drifter, who is probably the one responsible.

Hungarian women themselves are far more appealing than T’Pring from Jersey (I’m even including the Countess), though tour guide Rick Steves makes a point of warning visitors about the “konzumlany” — gorgeous “cosmopolitan” girls who drag you to an expensive club where you buy them a small fortune in drinks and they go home with the bartender. Men who spent any part of their 20s in Manhattan will recognize this as “Saturday night,” and we wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Breakfast in Budapest consists of beer and cigarettes. Lunch is goulash, which is a tasty stew of meat and potatoes, seasoned with paprika. The broth is thinner and more like soup than in other countries, particularly Prague, where you could eat it with a knife and fork.

I only had a couple days to spend in Budapest, but I had to try the thermal baths. The city has 123 natural springs and two dozen thermal baths (“furdo”). There are gender-segregated nude baths; however, two weeks in Germany, Austria, and the Czech Republic with their schnitzels and strudels had taken its toll and I was in no condition to be seen without my swimsuit.

The pools have a range of temperatures: 30 degrees Celsius (bath water), 36 degrees (hot tub), and 42 degrees (lava). I am a lava man and spent a very pleasant Sunday afternoon relishing what some religious people spend their Sunday mornings hoping to avoid.

I did see a Canadian woman mess around and dive into the lava section — not even the toe-in-the-water test but a full-on cannonball. Her screams were heard in Toronto. No worries: I added some paprika to the stew and enjoyed some Canadian goulash.

 
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Posted by on September 29, 2011 in Social Commentary

 

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Linguistics…

One thing that’s very different about being abroad compared to being in the U.S. is that everyone speaks English. This fluency is not restricted to heads of state or academics but to average people on the street — cabbies, bartenders, even the crazy lady on the subway in Berlin was bilingual. She came up to me and said, “Entschuldigen sie mich, haben sie irgendwelche Änderungen… wait, you’re from states? Forgive me, could you possibly spare some change? I am not at all well.”

People are generally fine with speaking English to you, as it avoids having to hear you mangle their language like a college football player speaking to the press. I try to at least learn the words for “hello,” “thank you,” and “please,” along with any phrases I might frequently use such as “more wine?” and “sure, I’ll have another glass.” The effort is usually appreciated. I did have a cab driver in Prague who claimed to not understand how my friend Brendan, who has lived there for a year, pronounced the name of his own street, but after the meter had run for another minute, it suddenly registered.

Often, when you take an English-speaking tour in another country, the guides are British or U.S. ex-pats. In Lisbon, the guides were Portugese and the two I had spoke impeccable English. They had the idioms and jokes down and everything. I started to question my own English: “Was that the right word? I know it doesn’t sound as good without an accent.” One of the guides mentioned to me that English is taught in primary school and they get 12 years of it. They also watch subtitled U.S. programs to reinforce it. Unfortunately, seeing “Run, Lola, Run” aided neither my fitness nor my German proficiency.

If I didn’t feel stupid enough, at one point I complimented the guide on her knowledge of local history. She thanked me but politely brushed it off as just being a result of growing up in the area. Can you imagine the sorry-ass walking tour some kid from Jersey would give based just on living there? “Yeah, down the street, that’s where someone saw Snooki, and Springsteen played at that bar once… I guess. He’s from here, right? Or is that Dylan? Whichever old guy writes songs about poor people.”

You start to get a complex after a while if you only speak English. That means you’re just one language away from not speaking one at all. It seems reasonable that you should have a “safety language,” which I guess for everyone else is English. I’ve seen Spanish tourists communicate with a German tourist using English and, amazingly, a waitress in Budapest speak Hungarian to one table, German to another, and English to mine. This is a waitress who, based on her age, grew up under communism.

In the states, there’s a lot of English-only pushes from politicians who apparently want the U.S. to be among the least-skilled nations. That’s really the opposite of what we should be doing. I try to imagine what my life would have been like if I had learned another language in my youth. When I was a sophomore in high school, I remember this cool senior sitting in study hall singing Soul II Soul. If I had been able to say, “However do you want me? However do you need me” in Portugese (roughly, “no entanto você quer que eu, no entanto você precisa de mim”), everything might have been different.

 
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Posted by on September 22, 2011 in Social Commentary

 

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Vienna…

Vienna…

When I arrived in Vienna, I had pretty much maxed out my limit on schnitzel. I have the unfortunate habit of going native when I travel and consuming the local cuisine exclusively. While in Germany and the Czech Republic, this meant lots of beer and meat. Vienna was more of the same but followed by coffee and cake in one of the many cafes.

I am a fan of cafe culture, as it reminds me of my youth when you had time to spend in coffee houses. When you’re in college, there are about 48 hours in each day — enough time for class, studying, talking to friends on the phone and then hanging out with them over meals or mugs of coffee or beer. Then you graduate, get a job and you’re down to 30 hours a day. Then you marry and you have about 15 hours, half of which are spent at weddings. You have kids and you get 10 minutes, provided you wake up at 5 am. If you sleep in until 6, it’s 5 minutes and if you let it go to 6:30, you’ve missed a day.

The Viennese manage to keep life at a 48-hour day, which is both impressive and necessary when you live in a city with so many grand buildings. I stayed at the The Imperial Riding School Renaissance Vienna Hotel, perhaps the third-most pretentious hotel name in Europe. It’s ideal for business travelers who wish to arrange the murder of an associate. The front desk is very accommodating: “So, you’ll want your partner dismembered and disposed of by Friday? We are happy to assist.” The club room is stocked with free champagne and heavy appetizers that make dining out unnecessary, which is convenient as the room rates made dining out impossible. One night was about the price of four in Berlin, but as they say, Berlin is “poor but sexy” and Vienna is “rich but beer goggly.” When I saw the bill, I had to clarify with the front desk that it was in Euros rather than some meaninglessly inflated currency like Kroners or U.S. dollars.

The bathroom at my hotel had a bidet. I named mine Joan Crawford. Without a bidet, your bathroom experience is equivalent to a 19th century outhouse with a half moon on the door. If you have a child, you would gladly sacrifice him or her for the bidet. If you had two children, you would want two bidets in case something happened to the primary one. Also, having the other kid around would just remind you that you’re some kind of monster who traded your child for a bidet.

The reason U.S. residents are so uptight is directly related to the lack of bidets. Watch how the GOP presidential candidates walked on stage during the debates. These are men and arguably one woman without access to a bidet. The Democrats would still have the House if instead of universal health coverage they had pursued universal bidets.

I took a tour of Vienna with a charming guide who looked just like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Considering none of the women on the tour were groped and/or impregnated, the resemblance was just superficial. He was very pro-Vienna, which is run by the Social Democratic Party. This means the Viennese struggle under the tyranny of the government caring whether they live or die, which is in contrast to the U.S. system where you are free to die wherever you wish as long as it’s not on a rich person’s lawn or on an alternate side parking day.

I’m usually not big on nationalism of any sort, but when this guy said good things about his country, he backed it up with facts. In the U.S., you’re just told it’s the greatest country in the world — period — and if you don’t like it, you can take your commie ass and leave. And that’s in a public school history class. Our guide pointed out that Vienna is tied with Vancouver, Canada for quality of life and the Economist Intelligence Unit rated it the second-best city in which to live. I also personally rank it the best city in which to get a haircut — far out-performing the sloppy, clipper-driven butchery I received as a kid in Greenville, S.C.

Definitely rich but decidedly not beer goggly was our well-dressed and well-coiffed guide at the Vienna State Opera House. We seemed to inspire pity in her, sort of like she was volunteering at a hospice but with less hope: “These are the orchestra seats, which would sell for about 250 Euros each or the cost of one sleeve of my splendidly tailored shirt. Over there are the box seats, which I am sorry to say are far beyond what you could ever afford to pay given your own personal poverty, which, I am sorry to say, is considerable and bleak. We do offer the underprivileged, by which, I am sorry to say, I mean you, day-of standing room tickets for 2 Euro, which I would use to wipe my ass if it were paper like your U.S. currency, which I do in fact use to wipe my ass, as it is less expensive than toilet paper and is a good pairing with the bidet.”

 
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Posted by on September 21, 2011 in Social Commentary

 

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Munich…

I enjoyed Munich slightly more than Berlin, as did Hitler, which aside from my eight years of vegetarianism in the ’90s and fondness for Argentina, is about all we have in common.

At the Nuremberg train station, on my way to Munich, I stopped at a bagel shop for breakfast. You would think that Germany had done irrevocable harm to its bagel industry, but it actually wasn’t that bad. I asked the middle-aged blonde woman for an egg and cheese bagel and she responded, “No! Egg or cheese. Not both!”

Now, in New York, this would be a fight, but when a blonde German yells at you in English, you don’t talk back. You just take your “Sophie’s Choice” bagel and like it. I’ve probably watched too many World War II movies, but Germans speaking German aren’t that scary; it’s the shouted German-accented English that gives me brown trousers.

Most Germans I encounter are bilingual and speak flawless English, which puts them at an advantage over most Americans who are barely lingual. Out of respect, I try to use as much German as I can, interspersed with halting English phrases to elicit pity. “Hallo, schnitzel… Please? Life is bowl of chocolates? Danke schoen.”

When I arrived in Munich, I went into a Starbucks and ordered from another middle-aged blonde woman a latte with skim milk. Her response: “No skim milk! Just cream!” Again, I paid for my Neville Chamberlain latte and liked it. Don’t mess with the German barista. She is not joking.

By the way, all these middle-aged blonde women look like Emma Thompson with a German accent. So, you have Emma Thompson pouring you coffee, Emma Thompson driving your cab, Emma Thompson giving you directions to the closest biergarten.

Dogs are very popular in Germany. Their standard of living is probably on par with the dogs in Belize, who wear Hawaiian shirts and walk up to bars begging for ceviche. Dogs are allowed off leash here, and strangers will stop to pet them. This would freak the hell out of Americans but Munich is sort of like a big petting zoo. Owners also let their dogs off leash to play with other random dogs. “Hey, there you, Klaas, go sniff some butts.” In New York, there’s a complex application and approval process before your pet can play with another dog.

Traditional German food involves sausage and sausage stuffed with sausage. This is washed down with a liter of beer and an inhalation of second-hand smoke from your waitress. The life expectancy should be about 27, but Germany actually ranks 20th out of all countries. Israel is 8th because living well really is the best revenge.

 
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Posted by on September 13, 2011 in Social Commentary

 

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Berlin vs. South Carolina…

Spending time in Berlin is interesting after growing up in South Carolina. Aside from the fact that “Berlin” is a better band name than “Pelzer,” there’s also the manner in which the two places treat certain indiscretions in their past. Berlin must have something in its tap water that promotes remorse and regret — an element regularly filtered out of the United States’s supply. Berlin is very “OK, here’s what went down. There are historical and educational reasons for knowing. We don’t dwell on it but man did we screw up. Have some Schwarzwurst.”

When I was a kid, there was really none of that in South Carolina. It was more, “Your ass is free but we’re not that happy about it. Have some processed cheese.” If Berlin and Germany as a whole is “Never Again,” South Carolina was “Oh, yeah, we’d do it again.”

Arriving in Berlin, I expected to see “Hitler Boulevard” and “Joseph Goebbel Jr. High School.” After all, there was a Wade Hampton High School near where I grew up, and there are at least 8 streets named “Wade Hampton” in South Carolina. This guy was a Confederate calvary officer who spent his life managing plantations in South Carolina and Mississippi. When his father died in 1858, he inherited one of the “largest collections of slaves in the South” — about 3,000 — and a library that boasted 10,000 volumes, which would have made it possible for each slave to check out 3 books at the same time if they had library cards or been allowed to read.

I suppose Germany does not name things after Nazis because, most importantly, they believe you should not memorialize bad people but also because the Nazis lost. Where else in society, other than the American South, do we name things after losers? There’s no Walter Mondale Airport or Fort Michael Dukakis or (eventually) Barack Obama Square. But even the black hair salons are named after Confederates in South Carolina: My mother got her hair done at The Jefferson Davis Beauty Parlor and Weave Shop.

While I was on a bus tour of the city, the tour guide mentioned that the Berlin Zoo once had Africans as exhibits but “that would never take place today. Thanks God!” You would never hear that in South Carolina. I have taken plantation tours when the guide was at the point of tears discussing the lost cause. “Yeah, well, you know, after the War of Northern Agression, the owners could no longer afford the upkeep of the plantation so they had to sell their home. Sniff. Sniff.” My heart breaks for them. Besides, they probably just moved to a condo in Charleston, near the water. It was better than sharecropping while waiting for your 40 acres and a mule like a sucker. That was worse than waiting for those X-ray glasses you ordered from the back of a comic book. You should have been suspicious — why is no one else using this technology? — but you knew everything was going to change once you received them.

I was on one tour where the guide was in antebellum costume, flouncing around in a ball gown and thinking she was cute. She asked my friend, “Wouldn’t you have loved to have lived when you could dress like this all the time?” My friend replied, “No, because I would have been a slave.”

But the U.S. has this fascination with the trappings of a society built on slave labor and human misery. There is no German version of “Gone with the Wind” (“Vom Winde Verweht”). Berlin also has monuments to the victims of the holocausts. Monuments to slaves in South Carolina are alongside the Confederate flag and statues of Confederate generals. This is like your wife’s ex-boyfriend coming along on the honeymoon: “Don’t mind me. I’ll just sit here and silently resent you.”

Berlin is an overall progressive city 70 years after World War II. I would not wanted to have been anywhere near the South in 1935 — 70 years after the end of the Civil War. You had Jim Crow and lynchings; the only real improvement was the launch of zoot suits in the late ’30s. And you had at least 30 years to go until “I Spy.”

 
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Posted by on September 4, 2011 in Social Commentary

 

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