For those who know this great country, like I know this is great country--which is to say those who have heard the gospel of awesome oatmeal and found themselves born anew--I have glorious news. I have discovered the greatest bowl of oatmeal ever made, in the most unlikeliest place in the world. The place is Flour Bakery in the town of Cambridge.
For the good of your country, you have got to get up on this--creamy perfectly cooked steel-cut oats. Fresh fruit sliced and diced right here in U.S. of A. Washed down with a hot cup of coffee. It's enough to make me ignore the hipsters at the counter with their smiles, good service and polite manner.
"But TNC," you say. "I thought you were real American? What are you doing hanging out in the communist commune of Cambridge?"
Bite me Sharia-boy. I'll have you know that in the time you phrased that question, I punched five Muslim atheists and broke up a game of hacky sack. My star-spangled armor is supreme. And when it comes to awesome oatmeal, no power in the socialist-verse can stop me.
Eat oatmeal. Your country is counting on you.
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