Don Imus 1, The DNB 250
We are watching a television show about AIDS in Africa. I have identified approximately 50 African children I would like to adopt. The DNB is clearly not suffering from the gut-wrenching emotion I am and keeps telling me that "No, we can't adopt that one either."
Among the AIDS orphans amassed for one wide shot, I see a baby with gemstone studs in her ears. The narrator explains that many of these children are HIV positive themselves, but I am fixated on the earrings.
"How does that baby have her ears pierced?" I wonder aloud. The gemstones glimmer in the sunlight.
"I don't know," the DNB replies, bored. "Maybe that's how she got AIDS."
I stare at him.
Among the AIDS orphans amassed for one wide shot, I see a baby with gemstone studs in her ears. The narrator explains that many of these children are HIV positive themselves, but I am fixated on the earrings.
"How does that baby have her ears pierced?" I wonder aloud. The gemstones glimmer in the sunlight.
"I don't know," the DNB replies, bored. "Maybe that's how she got AIDS."
I stare at him.
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