On Sunday, I sat on a barstool whose leather was cut up by a pocket knife. I was in Buffalo, drinking and getting drunk on trashy Mike's Hard Lime-aritas while watching the hapless Buffalo Bills get beaten by the marginally better New York Jets. When it became clear that the Bills would lose the game, the rueful fans began smoking cigarettes. Suddenly, someone set off a smoke bomb. Then, a pack of extraordinarily noisy firecrackers were tossed on the dance floor. If the home team had won, there would have been bottle rockets, according to one tipsy fan.... More >>>