Just think: he’s in his 70s now as well. Next time you’re at the grocery store, and you see a smallish fellow with an impish grin in his seventies, and you think “I wonder if that’s one of those Greatest Generation guys who stormed Normandy,”  consider whether he might have been an art student who cut classes for a week so he could hang black paper hands from wires, and got so drunk that night they found him passed on the fire escape with a dead cat in his pants.

 

 
 

 

 
 

 

 

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