I have this good friend…His wife slaves away at two jobs, while he has too much pride to work: “I’m a poet. I am not about to go out and sell pots and pans. It’s gross.” Back in the day, he and I, like everyone else, would walk around chanting, “Democracy! Democracy!” We had no idea what all that would lead to. No one was itching to peddle pots and pans. And now, there’s no choice: You either feed your family or you hang on to your sovok ideals. It’s either/or, no other options…
