They love their chromed-out motorized homes and lawn chairs, atrocious jelly sandals, and larger-than-their-faces sunglasses. Behold, the brightly colored political fanny packs and blues-rock music! They look like slow-melting seals and wrinkled, hairless tigers; their droopy nipples and disgusting sausage links look like weird blood-swollen baby arms. Flapping pancakes and a dark stomach, a regal man in an open bathrobe is fumigating the collie next to him with an avalanche of Old Spice cologne. A plump granny looking at her hot pink phone; the thatch of silver and white fur would make Einstein blush. There is no great mystery. Hungry tongues—they're just sad old people who want to have orgies, that's all.