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July 19, 2009
Peter looks out the window and says, in a voice so soft I have to stop doodling and lean forward to hear, “This afternoon I saw a black guy with dreds sitting on the steps of a church eating watermelon, and immediately thought, ‘Yeah, it figures.’ Yesterday I passed a new dry cleaning place in my neighborhood and noticed it was run by a Chinese lady and thought, ‘Gee, what a surprise.’”

It’s gotten out of hand, he says. He’s alienating friends with this.

“Then don’t tell them,” I say. “Attribute these notions to characters in your next book.”

A-ha!