“Come on!  We’re all going to the bar to engage in classic twentysomething activities, like shouting at televisions, complaining about juke boxes, and sexual attraction!” shouted our friends.

“No, thanks!”  we’d reply.  ”The Phils are on!”

“Dude,” they’d say, their tone dropping to deep levels of concern, “Please come out.  You haven’t left your toolshed in eight days and we all know there’s not a TV out there.” (more…)