70 Year Magazine Archive

My Candidate!

by Rob Long

But not necessarily the right one

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ONCE, years ago, I had dinner with John Kerry. It was almost exactly twelve years ago, on the eve of Bill Clinton’s big election—which is a sentence, by the way, that, if repeated in a pidgin racist Chinese-houseboy accent, produces a hilarious and meaningful double entendre. I’ll pause while you try it.

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