“You did great today,” I told Josh. “You were monster.” “yeah,” he said. “I was monster. Thank you, Charlie.”
Kim Il Sung is Kim the First, but in the regime's iconography he comes across as an über-effeminate God-the-Mother, all mumsy and 1950s, a celestial Doris Day.
The ore is a richly magnetiferous Pochuck gneiss.
I wasn't the least bit proud. I dare say I was one of the least cocky creatures in existence these days.
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