Some time ago I inherited a large number of Russian war bonds from my grandmother and have been waiting since the fall of Communism there for that country to make good, at least, for a percentage of their value. No luck, so far, but that arbiter of flatulent gossip, Mrs. Stuyvesant-Fish, actually accused me of trying to cash one in on an unsuspecting Cuban teller at The Bank of America yesterday. I may have been dropping my handkerchief in front any Cuban, but I would like to inform Mamie that unsuspecting bank tellers are as rare as hen's teeth, and that her source was an known drug addict. To her, I say, "Mamie, you can wallpaper your home with Confederate currency as much as you want. Russian war bonds will be paid long before your homeland's junk will." SNAP

Truly, why can't we just get along...at least until the New Year?