"Give me your hungry, your tired your poor I'll piss on 'em
that's what the Statue of Bigotry says
Your poor huddled masses, let's club 'em to death."
Lou Reed’s *New York* (1989): proof that poetry can wear leather and still complain about the rent.
“Trump is still alive.”
Yes, he is still drawing breath, but right now the Persian Gulf is staging a comedy show so tangled that Trump will struggle to tweet his way out.
Los psiquiatras dicen que, si quieres burlar al algoritmo, lo único que necesitas es saber un poco de bable y tener ganas de cantarle arias en dicho idioma a tu ordenador portátil.
2) to have tested the Latin locution exceptio probat regulam until it fell into disuse, and to bury string theory from their journalism chairs.
1) No, I see you as somewhat optimistic.
The tenacity of the experts is greater than the USD's ability to withstand all kinds of deficits and remain the undisputed world reserve currency,
This reminds me, in all modesty, of Wallace Stevens' aphorism: "A poem is a pheasant"
Hello Michael:
Sinopoli's Scriabin is truly stormy. A hidden gem, considering the notoriety that followed the poor Italian doctor.
Señor Berry,
Please excuse my untimely, and perhaps impertinent, question: Are you here because of the filth that is currently overflowing in the voluntary servitude colony called X?
