A House Divided

Scott and I are talking about politics. Sort of. We don't get too involved, because we rarely agree - and because, in general, just thinking about politics gives me high blood pressure. If I had a steam whistle on the top of my head, it would be wailing right now.

But he's having a brain fart, and I'm not about to help.

"What is the nation, below us, where they vote and pay taxes but they're not a state? Oh, I can't believe it won't come to mind."

"Bulldog Nation?"

He rolls his eyes.

"Cheesehead Nation?"

He sighs and walks away.

"Rhythm Nation!" I call after him. "We're all a part of that."

Alas, he is gone.

(It's Puerto Rico)