Little Yurt on the Steppe

On the road to Cyberia I took a wrong turn and ended up on the Great Eastern Plains. Fortunately, a group of Khalkha nomads took me in and taught me the secrets of life on the steppe. Now, I sit in my yurt, eating mutton dumplings and drinking a weak milk tea as I recount my tales of this Mongolian life.

sobota, ledna 15

God bless them for not letting the war cast a somber mood on the party

Inaugurations are always balancing acts: part coronation, part celebration of democracy, part touchdown dance in the end zone. But they become even trickier during times of war, particularly when television images of dancers in black tie can be instantly juxtaposed with soldiers in body armor.

Uh, shouldn't that be soldiers lacking body armor.

At least the lead is highly effective in conveying the untentionally conveyed gist of the article, namely that Washington fat cats have no sense of irony in lavishing millions of dollars on pomp and circumstance while neglecting and underfunding or ignoring grave humanitarian crises.

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