"Our city has a poop problem?" "The article says they've picked up human poop 300 times in the last year. Pretty much every day but holidays and Sundays." "Hello, breakfast here." "Don't hate on me, I'm just reporting the news," he said, sarcastically, tapping the front of the paper with his hand. "When did local newspapers become the Enquirer?" "Blame the internet." "Ah yes, the internet," he said, pausing then theatrically shaking his fist at the sky, "Damn you, internet, you've ruining everything." "The article is about the rise of homelessness. but if you listen to this woman they interviewed. Ugh. Do you think they just did an internet search, "Whitest, Whiniest, Most Entitled Woman on Earth"? She's worried about poop and masturbation in public parking garages." "What I want to know is," he said, pausing through a mouthful of toast and pointing at the paper,"what miss thing is doing hanging out in public parking garages so she can catch homeless people masturbating. That's. That's the real story here." "The nice weather, brought to you by the California drought, is making homelessness sexy and fun apparently. It's all the rage until it interferes with our morning latte and trip to the palates gym. With a capital "G," And that rhymes with "P" and that stands for poop! Right here in River City." "You are so incredibly gay. You can even make an article about poop a musical reference!" "I know. It's a gift."