Picture this. Tall kinda greasy older guy with his hair plastered down around his head wearing slacks and ...shudder... a black fishnet tank top and nothing under it. Just be grateful this isn't picture day. You know, just because the day is hot you don't have to visit this visual assault on the rest of us. Like the poem says "it's the folks out in front that you jar*". I'm just saying.
I've always wanted to say to the beggars on the street when they say "do you have any spare change?" "Why, yes I do. Thank you for asking." But, I won't.
Well, then again, maybe you should. Thanks to loralie.
* As a beauty I'm not a great star. There are others more handsome by far. But my face, I don't mind it, for I am behind it. It's the folks out in front that I jar.