I've managed to drag myself to Starbucks (sorry Hipster anarchists, it is the closest place with WiFi) and there is a group of old men sitting at a table on the lower level, well within my earshot, especially given the volume they are producing. One of the guys is in a wheel chair. And they are telling foul jokes. Dirty. I'm reminded of Rodney Rothman's Early Bird and his observation, after moving to a Retirement Community in Florida at age 28, that the only people more obsessed with sex than thirteen-year-old boys are seventy-year-old men. I'm trying to decide if I should repeat their joke about the woman and the cigar in this space; it is by far the cleanest one I've heard all afternoon.