I remember driving from Davis to Fairfield one summer night thirty some years ago and passing a drive-in in the distance showing hardcore porn. Nasty naked hardcore porn. Huge everythings. Probably the biggest TV repairman ever, though we had missed the libretto, having dawdled in Davis an extra minute or two. You have no idea how surreal this was for a couple from Hollywood. Porn was something viewed in faded movie palaces on Hollywood Blvd all dark and dank and icky, full of dirty old men and worst dates ever and Pee Wee Herman. Yet here we were, smack dab in the middle of Reagan country with Jesus on the radio and the biggest fornicators you ever saw getting it on in front of God and everybody. All that flesh on the screen must have been visible for miles. It certainly was a half mile away on the 80. Alas we zipped by so quickly I never did get a line on the plot, and in a minute or two the screen passed out of sight completely and we were wrapped again in darkness but for the occasional Jesus staring at us from a billboard. Sometimes the analog world was like another planet.