At this point I may as well tell this story.
Forty years ago, we went to see my brother-in-law's brother about a painting job.
He was about twenty years old, and lived in an upstairs apartment.
The kind with rickety wood stairs in the alley.
He had a worn out stuffed chair, with a brick under a broke leg, an old black, and white TV, a path from the chair, to the TV through the girlie magazines strewed about the floor.
An old fridge held a stick of butter, and a couple cans of cheap beer.
A real boars nest.
Yeah. I had an uncle. Fours years older than me. He lived in a similar arrangement. It was an old Quonset but behind grandmas house. When oldest son was prolly in jr. High he was out there with him watching TV and looking at the latest copy of "Monster Boobs" magazine and noticed an abundance of brightly colored cockroaches. My old uncle tells him. "Hey you see any yellow ones, hit em with this blue spray paint! I think there building a resistance to yellow!"
