As I was getting off the subway this morning there was a woman wearing a fake fur and pleather jacket (maybe she works for PETA) along with these shinyshiny tight pants - I'm not sure what you'd call them - thicker than tights, more like stretch pants, but of a sort of shiny fabric.  Anyway, it was a poor choice for her body type, to put it mildly, and she was lugging a Duane Reade bag with one of those tri-color popcorn fiestas in it - you know, with one section for the blaze orange "cheddar flavor", one for the "butter flavor" no one eats, and and one third caramel corn.

Anyway, I look at the lady and the bucket and think to myself, "Geesh, what a tragedy - but a delicious tragedy - like when a clown dies... eating a Twinkie."