Staring through the café window, my shuffle switched to Mozart's Requiem, and I thought I saw the mighty Vincent C______, bombastic bard, linguistic slayer of the wicked, seated on a bench across from me. Then, as I realized that the individual indeed was not him, and was becoming rather upset as I kept staring, I adjusted my gaze, and returned to my steaming hot cup of coffee, thoroughly saturated with caffeinated hypotheses.