One night, a friend visiting from Rome got really upset and started cursing in Italian, which is the most spectacular romance language for profanity. When I asked him what was wrong he told me other friends were taking him to Italian restaurants, night after night. And although he was too polite to say he wanted something else—which he did, because the pasta was cold and soggy and the bruschetta was covered in all this extra stuff—he was surprised that no one was aware enough to say, “Hey…
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