A guy. . .

sitting next to me extolling the virtues of the beer he is drinking.

“But,” he says. “I only drink it because it’s Italian.”

I look at the beer and tell him that it is indeed from Belgium.

He looks it me, the beer, around the room a little before answering with,

“That’s where the shootings were, right?”

Sadly, wrong on so many levels.

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