Drumlins, Purgatory
Je t'aime, chicken fettuccini…
I'm eating breakfast, free with my room, at a Wisconsin supper club attached to an early-1970s hotel.
A table of elderly men are griping about Biden as a lush Muzak version of "Bali Hai" plays. I'd seen them all separate at dinner the night before, but united they create a formidable force of bitching about anything new being done to change the world the…
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