random thought of the moment:
Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the clouds of war, it is humanity hanging on a cross of iron.
—
May 31st, 2003 by Funky Dung
I prefer sliced provalone myself. Then again, I’m from the suburbs.
In Hoagieland, They Accept No Substitutes
By R. W. APPLE Jr.
“WHEN the future Edward VII, then the Prince of Wales, visited this staid old city in 1860, he had a little trouble getting his bearings. During his stay, he reported later, ‘I met a very large and interesting family named Scrapple, and I discovered a rather delicious native food that they call biddle.’”
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Funky Dung
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