After I strap into the jump seat, the captain asks who I like in our presidential election, and once we get a conversation going, he slams our policy in Iraq and asks what the riots in L.A. were all about. I’m tempted to roll over. I don’t understand much about either topic and I know not everyone loves us. We’re too unionized and make bad soap operas and love a liability waiver and generate our fair share of pollution, intellectual and otherwise. But it’s my home, and not just because I grew up pledging my allegiance and taking tests on the Electoral College and Pearl Harbor. It’s in me,
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