Richard Cohen drinks the Kool-Aid.
Then I heard the window open and felt the breeze on my face. "I hope everything turns out hunky-dory, like you've been writing," he said. "Otherwise, you should have been an accountant and made some money so you could take care of your parents." He looked at me, tenderly.But his pride keeps him from swallowing."Give them my love, boychick."
With that, the window closed, the breeze ceased and I went back to sleep. I had a nightmare that I was an accountant.

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