His inability to see anything… that doesn’t fit into his forever falsified rear view mirror on the 1940s / 1950s… reeks of… encroaching senility.

So… like the inappropriate uncle at holiday meals… we mostly learn to ignore him.

But cities were never as his delusions imagined them. In fact, most small towns weren’t, either.

But people almost always did this stuff behind closed doors, so he could pretend it didn’t exist.

And jailing addicts… solves nothing. Ever.

Out.