That which does not kill me only delays the inevitable.
I did. And I did. I believe I'll have a six-pack of martinis to go, please.
I dunno. I distinctly remember members of my family calling other members communists at the dinner table. It was pretty rancorous in the early 60s, and the real noisy dissent hadn't even got going yet.
Yes, but did your parents drink martinis?
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