… while out for an innocent stroll, you happen across sights like this:
All in a public place; just there—there, right in front of you—there where anyone, even left-handed people, and people who like to taste the coffee in their coffee, can see it.
And all that, just down the road from this—but which you have to sign in to see (presumably because anywhere in the world where Finney and Forsyth appear within such close proximity of each other is cause for grave public concern, and confusion):
All told, I’m enjoying Uncle Stanley’s home state. And I’ll post something a little more intelligent about it tomorrow.