Inappropriate Witticisms

<!--[if gte mso 9:]><xml> Normal 0 false false false MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 </xml><![endif:]--><!--[if gte mso 9:]><xml> </xml><![endif:]--><!--[if !mso:]><div classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id=ieooui></div> <style> st1:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif:]--> <!--[if gte mso 10:]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif:]--> When I was in my mid-twenties I attended a singles mixer in San Francisco, held outdoors on a pier. It was a frightening place for a shy person. One very Dilbert-looking fellow (literally), in a brown leisure suit, went straight to the outdoor bar and started ordering stiff drinks. I watched in awe as he chugged one after another, trying to find some social courage. Unfortunately he reached the blackout point before he reached the witty and charming sweet spot. I happened to be looking in...