the other day, my lawyer wife and i decided to go sleep under the bridge where all the immigrants live. Just to see what it was like. I've always wondered, you know...how bad could it be. So, after finishing off the wonderfully summery south african red at Giseppe's Wine Bar on 3rd Ave, we were off. It didn't take us long to realize we were the only ones there without a cardboard box. I called my best friend, the eye-surgeon, who came down with his brother, another lawyer. They brought an extra box for us, and, since they wouldn't be spending the whole night, we'd have their box to use once they left for the game, which I admit, may have been cheating a little - a box for each of us, but I thought we'd make up for it by not having a bag of empty aluminum cans for a pillow. With the box situation straightened out, it was time for supper. We had done some research, and had brought along some cans of beans and a "hobo-pie" that my wife had learned to make in girlscouts. But once we started eating, we were quickly surrounded. Not wanting to offend anyone, I explained that we weren't there to offend anyone. They asked for the food and we gave it to them. One of them was nice enough to share his bottle of what we thought was wine, but it sure didn't taste like any wine we had ever had. But yet, i could understand why some people might like it. Yes, I understood. Once my buddy and his brother left, we just kind of stood around, sharing the deep silence that comes with real understanding, and the deep understanding that comes with real silence. I thought about something I read in the New York Times about some guys who died sleeping outside. We then crawled into our boxes, and like worms crawling into our cacoons, we awoke at first light to shed our skins of ignorance and fly away as better people for having seen the other side. Next week, my other best friend the oncologist is going to bring me into the cancer ward...just to see what it's like.

Awww, is the widdle baby gonna cry over class differences?

Hilarious! Whoever gave this a negative should be forced to eat the loaf.

What killed me about the original article was how the author couldn't make an exception and actually taste the loaf that had meat. I mean, come on, that's the article: HOW THE STUFF TASTES. If you can't sign on to actually, well, taste it, why bother with the article at all?

Amen.

Oh, now that's funny! Thanks for the smile.

You know - the guy is just trying to do his job here. Does it really bother you that he makes a lot more money at his job than you do at yours? Change professions - you could write if you wanted - you did that rebuttal really well - negative - but insightful. You definitely got your point across.

that is just excellent.

LOL!