Whatever makes them feel better, nothing wrong with living in denial, I suppose.

A month ago I walked the streets of central Bangkok.

I was raised in New York City but I had never witnessed such a frightening assortment of fat unkempt old white men, garbed in Birkenstocks, XXXL Timberland shorts, and polo shirts big enough for a polo pony. During the day almost all were unaccompanied, nursing hangovers under their Raybans, but in the evening each waddled precariously while one of a variety of multi-hued working girls steadied them.

Perhaps I am living in denial, but I cannot imagine that any of these young ladies were hoping for a future as Mrs. Potato Gravy.