All because a group of the wealthiest people on the planet since the pharaohs have convinced a bunch of smooth-brained rubes that “well-regulated” means that nearly everyone can get their very own murder machines.
Clay had learned to bring a book with him when he took Henry shopping; otherwise, he would go out of his tree with boredom.
I can joke about being a redbone, and I am that. But most folks don't make no distinction between a redbone and a colored man, unless it's to their benefit.
It's often an all or nothing world for the fangirl who has yet to learn to bridle the imagination. She is notorious for being incapable of passively enjoying stories.
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