Last Friday night, I had some Mongolian Chicken, the House Special lo mein, and two egg rolls delivered to the casita from the "Healthy" Chinese joint down the street. My fortune cookie at the end of the meal told me: "If the cake is bad, what good is the frosting?", leading me to finger my chin and raise my eyebrow and question whether human beings truly have the capacity to overcome their cultural differences or if we are destined to struggle savagely with one another for eternity. Because obviously the Chinese don't get me at all.
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