Jack Skellington Nightmare Gym It’s Time to Get Jack’d Shirt
Two senators accepted her invitation to take a Delta tour at the close of the hearings. One was Robert F. Kennedy of New York. Dressed in a blue suit, a striped silk tie pulled tight against his neck on a warm April day, he stooped in a dimly lit cabin, patted a young boy on the head, and asked what he had eaten for breakfast. Molasses, the black child answered. No grits, no eggs. No biscuits, no butter. Just the leavings from refining sugar, the bottom of the barrel, the lees in the three-M diet of meat, meal, and molasses. That diet had wrecked a previous generation, riddling sharecroppers with the nutritional deficiency pellagra. By the late 1960s, even that diet was beyond the reach of many poor Southerners.
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