"So the days, the last days, blow about in a memory, hazy autumnal, all alike as leaves: until a day unlike any other I've lived"

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Well, after all, this is the age of the disposable tissue. Blow your nose on a person, wad them, flush them away, reach for another, blow, wad, flush. Everyone using everyone else's coattails. How are you supposed to root for the home team when you don't even have a program or know the names? For that matter, what color jersey's are they reading as they trot out to the feild?

— Ray Bradbury