President Nasty of the United States of America, wearing only a white undershirt, looked in the mirror.
He had read Werd's piece in The Nation. He was beginning to understand what was happening.
Because, Werd, there's no place for you.
There will never ever be anything like a place for you.
You're a octagonal peg in a grid, and you'll bounce across the surface until you slow down.
You'll have to find your own way, Werd, there's no other choice for you. There's no other choice for you.