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massacre

red grit on Indian trails ignitedquantrill’s lust for blood, and he scalpedtwo farmers on the way to Lawrence he waved those scalps like torchesand lit up the eastern prairielike it hadn’t been since creation after the dead were lined up and shotthe cinders cooled and the smoke clearedhe hung that…

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Low-level holiday misery vs. The hydrogen bomb

Lisa, You’re E-mail today reminds me what a lucky woman you are. I know the grass over the fence gets you higher, and all that, but it’s good to hear about your family visit in their small town. I don’t know if you are around your parents, siblings, or relatives.…

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The case for and against independence

My efforts with getting book events at independent bookstores fascinate me. Indies in smaller towns elsewhere are incredibly interested in having me around. Urban indies could give a shit. Corporate stores, sadly, welcome me with open arms. What’s an anti-corporate iconoclast to do? Indies were the first stores I contacted…

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Listen to the inner primitive: A letter to a student

Josie, I was and am a student. In terms of years served, I have more college education now than grade and high school combined. I know what you are going through. Though I am a hard-ass in a lot of things academic–it does us no good to get grades without…

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