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Country: North America, US, United States
City: Ashburn, Virginia
- imagogolf - perfect for a dorm roomi have used a lot of different keurig products as my family has purchased them. i was really excited when i received this for christmas. i am currently away at school and love that it doesnt take up too much space and only makes as much as i need. i have yet to experience any of the bad things other people have and hope that i dont!
- Janette Bradley - Great TabletVery nice tablet and the battery life goes for a long time.. I have the Samsung 3 phone works great
- Robin - The Final SolutionHoly sliced bananas, Batman!
No longer will I have to worry about Batman getting angry at me for using Batarangs to cut our bananas!
Just a simple line-up, press, and KAPOW! Sliced bananas.
It saves so much time at every meal, time we can put into crimefighting.
So thank you valiant citizen who created this marvelous tool of justice. - D. Flores - To the EditorTo the Editor: For the life of me I cannot understand how a product, so trivial and of such little consequence as a gallon of Tuscan whole milk, could elicit such passion in your readership. For nearly seven years I have been a subscriber to _Tales of Passion and Hastily Ripped Bodices_ and have devoured the stories and essays contained therein. I have enjoyed the Margaret Greenwald series of Love in the time of Bubonic Plague. Her writing brings both teen-aged passion and Medieval Europe to life in ways I could never have imagined. I remember cozying up next to a raging fire one mid-winter's eve and losing myself in Alice VonHuntergassen's "The Tear Stained Moccassin." How a rough and savage Red Man could act so tenderly --raising the child of a white family killed by a Navajo raiding party, then marrying her when she comes of age-- is a tale to be remembered for the ages. I passed many a lonely evening in the company of Helen Chernhoff's numerous tales of Eskimo romance (though I do feel that her many "totem pole" double-entendres did on occasion exceed the limits of good taste). And I could go on and on like this, describing the wonderful stories that fill your magazine's pages and have provided a distraction on lonely nights and long plane rides. But my enjoyment has very nearly come undone as of late. You readership's obsessive need to pen Letters to the Editor on the wholly irrelevant subject of Tuscan Whole Milk has nearly sapped your magazine of all its pleasure for me. For two long years it seems your Letters page has been overtaken and dominated nearly to exclusion by paeans to this vulgar and wholly unremarkable substance. Oh yes, I do realize that it is silky in its texture, unblemished in the purity of its color and that its delicate flavor brings back fond memories of childhood and mother's cradling comforts in many who read this journal. I realize that in some people the mere smell of a glass of warm milk is enough to elicit a cackle of uproarious laughter, a hush of stunned remembrance, or a single solitary tear, coursing haphazardly down a trembling cheek, leathery and wrinkled by time's merciless hand. But I would remind your readers: it is still just a gallon of milk. Simple. Trivial. Unremarkable. It comes from a cow that was raised on a farm and spends its days eating grass or hay, or some form of commercial cattle feed. It is not "my childhood bottled up" as Mary in Nebraska once wrote. It is not "all of God's wonder poured in a single glass" as Li in San Francisco penned recently. And it is most certainly not "the ethereal clouds of heaven, liquified and presented for the infinite enjoyment of us mortals" as Sue in New York once opined. It's just Milk... a G*d D*mned bottle of whole cow milk. It comes from a teat. It will make you fat if you drink too much of it. It will boil over and leave a mess on your stove if you leave it on the fire too long. Please people. Give it a rest, or I may have to cancel my subscription.