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A young boy, about 12, answered a knock at the door. "Is yer paw home?" a farmer asked. "No sir, he ain't," the boy replied. "He went into town." "Well," said the farmer, "is yer maw here?" "No, sir, she ain't here neither. She went into town with pa." "How about your brother, Howard. Is he here?" "He went with ma and pa." The farmer stood there for a minute, shifting from one foot to the other and mumbling to himself. "Is there anything I can do fer ya?" the boy asked politely. "I knows where all the tools are, if you want to borry one. Or maybe I could take a message fer pa." "Well," said the farmer uncomfortably, "I really wanted to talk to yer paw. It's about your brother, Howard, getting my daughter, Pearly Mae, pregnant." The boy considered this for a moment. "You would have to talk to Pa about that", he finally conceded. "If it helps you any, I know that Pa charges $50 for the bull and $25 for the hog, but I really don't know how much he gets fer Howard." "I would remind you that extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice. I would remind you also that moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue." Barry M Goldwater. | ||
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