Now that the financial markets have officially hit the skids (or as Ken so delicately puts it, "shit the bed"), I'm a tad annoyed because now my beloved dive bar has been positively packed with down-and-out realtors and investor dudes who normally would be drinking $15 martinis and are now arguing over $3 PBR's. I suppose the bright side is now there'll be plenty of sympathy fucks to go 'round, or hey-the-world-is-ending-tomorrow-so-let's-get-drunk-and-screw moments. Never dull.