Every hard days forage deserves a little processed food to sate the Gods of Capital (and restore balance to the Universe). Kenny and I decided to satisfy our daily tithe at the local VFW hall for lunch. After throwing back a couple of mid-day beers and polishing off a delicious pit beef sandwich, I marched into the men's room to claim my patriotic duty: unzip, aim, shoot! Free speech ain't free (in this case, it cost two PBRs) . . . Poor Jane Fonda never saw it coming.