breakfast at george's coffee shop on 164th and bway yesterday found me with my back facing a couple of self-identified Old Timers:
People don't know what we went through. People truly don't understand.
We gotta move around a lot. That's how it is in the resistance.
and from some of you, these are superb (thank you!):
I fry mine in butter. (very loud at a concert)
I'm not that stupid.
Sometimes I just forget that you're my boyfriend and not another girl.
Go, Arkady, run like the girls and be happy.
In the trenches it’s all twos and threes.