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Then he gave me the look that only a father

  • Then he gave me the look that only a father can give his daughter. It’s the look that says “I carried you on my shoulders. I put a band-aid on your knee. I just want this one favor

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  • But I wasn't his daughter anymore, I was his commanding officer. Ever since he got drunk with a sheep herder named Ali in Baghdad, the army couldn't trust him. No, I ordered him

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  • lightly breaded with a carmelized onion and white wine glaze. It was time to feed the men traitorous long pig - and they were going to like it or

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  • they wouldn't like it, as it was just a matter of taste. Taste was something that Debra did not have. You see, Debra

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  • was born without taste buds. Sometimes it was a blessing, as when she had to eat her brussel sprouts. But most times, Debra lamented her lack of taste of any kind, including

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  • a sense of smell, touch, and humor... Yes, never knowing the joyful taste of a Hershey kiss, or the smell of a freshly baked cookie would leave anyone an angry, humorless

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  • Republican. He tried to stay connected to the real world, but in this new age of electronic social connections and stand up comedy, he was more removed than ever. Even his own son

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  • reported him to Child Welfare when Papa tried to Siperpoke him. His gift of virtual alimony was rebuffed by his exwife, and Cargill refused to buy his Farmville virtual corn.

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  • So, he decided that the Internet was no place to make a living and began dancing in the streets. Unsatisfied, he paid one last visit to Farmville, where he cried, "that's not

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  • right! It's my wall, and my mob. You're the fail whale, you!" Two clicks later, he shut it down to the sound of a faint "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do."

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