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October 22, 2011
Among the usual scattering of menus in the vestibule rests a similarly-folded piece of paper from a neighborhood dry cleaner. I pick it up because, among everything else, it's the "one of these things doesn't belong here" of the bunch, and I always side with the outcast or the underdog.

On its face, under a quirky drawing of three items hanging on a rack, it says, "Qiality You Can Feel". My instinct is to not trust a dry cleaner that doesn't spell-check. Then I remember my grandfather spelling of "pinochle" as "pinokl" and choose to admire the pamphlet's charm instead.