My Ukrainian Epiphany
We get out of the car, stepping onto the red brick sidewalk. I look around and take in the sight. Across the street sits the Kyiven Opera, coated in a peeling layer of paint the color of milk hot chocolate. Construction is well underway, with a copious amount of scaffolding surrounding the golden dome of the ancient building.
Why the Democratic Party Is Morally Corrupt Beyond Repair
Twas the year 1944, and a fellow named Henry Wallace was running for reelection as vice president. A peaceful man he was, a pacifist and progressive. Mr. Roosevelt prefered him, as did all the people. The establishment did not, however, and was not happy whatsoever. For Mr. Wallace was disrupting the system, and they decided to resist him. Nine percent was all he won, but war mongering Truman got ninety. Twas the year 1944 when Wallace got screwed over.