THE WORD DUDE REFLECTS ON ITS STEADY DECLINE FROM KEEPING COMPANY WITH RAKISH 19TH CENTURY DANDIES TO ITS DEMEANING MODERN DAY ROLE AS FILLER FOR LIGHT BEER COMMERCIALS
The wind changes again. I must stop. Stale barley and hops assault my nostrils. Enhanced bosoms beat me mercilessly about the face and neck. Slovenly fat men appear clutching waifish empty-headed jezebels at their sides. A long lost celebrity, Carl Weathers perhaps, is poised to burst from my chest in mimicry of a college football team's pre-game run onto the field.