There was a spirited conversation about the 9 mile an hour cuhshun police give you for speedin’ on a local radio station. I counted the times they said cushion and the number was eighteen. Like many northern-born know-nothings, I used to think a southern accent was undesirable but now, to my developed ears, it sounds deelish - like melting time, candied pecans, and porch swings.
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