Reid pointed out to me this afternoon that the saltine crackers in the packet that came with his soup have thirteen holes in them. Thirteen! Twenty-six if you count both crackers. I don't know if this is a sign of bad luck or an instance of thirteen as a number of feminine power. What I do know is, Reid chose to not sully his tomato basil soup with them. Consider what you might be turning loose next time you blithely open up those crackers and dunk them in your soup.
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