I am a wronged man. This morning, I was pimped out by my fellow Wetland Biologists to the Forestry department. I found myself locked in the cab of a Ford F-250 with a furry, Napoleonic lumberjack whose idea of proper reparations for slavery involves slamming as many "izzles" and "iggeties" into his vocabulary as federal law will allow. Also, top-40
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