Fio's newspaper was not delivered today and somehow she missed out on the on-line version too. Maybe Son L will take her out to pick up a leftover somewhere, but that's doubtful, so your girl will probably have to wait till tomorrow to find out what's going on with Luann and her pals.
In the meantime, Fiorella give you a poem that she wrote a while back but is just as meaningful today as the day it was written:
America, bow your head in shame
Ethnic cleansing is the name of the game--
Clear out the black, the yellow, the brown
Run gays and their kindred out of town
Ridicule the halt, the blind, and the lame
And do unto those who sorrow the same
Jail the actors, the artists, the press
Silence the women and make them a jest
Reject the migrants or throw them in jail
Allow graft and cronyism to prevail
In short, go after anyone who
Doesn't talk or think or look like you--
An automaton of self-fed hate
Which no force on earth can ameliorate
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