At an Indiana coffeehouse, I once listened to a charmingly unibrowed patron tell me about his displeasure with his lot in life. Through various shades of incomprehensibility, he spoke at length of the British Isles; he let me leaf through his expensive imported architecture magazine; he showed me how he lit his cigarettes with matches. The final straw came when he gestured impatiently at the country band playing in the corner and muttered something about its "unintellectuality in such a collegiate... More >>>