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I am very comfortable in my interracial marriage to a beautiful, wonderful, woman of mixed race herself.
When we're shopping for groceries, and I want some saltines for my chili, she says "but I already have a cracker." She just cracks her self up with that one.
Nothing feels more right than watching my wife laugh.
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I can sum up the clash of religion in one sentence:
"My Invisible Friend is better than your Invisible Friend."
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