I look out the big picture window of the living room of my apartment. Directly ahead, standing in a line by the curbside, are four women with balloons. Each woman has two balloons attached to her chest, making it appear as if she has a very large pair of breasts. Upon looking more closely, I see that each balloon is indeed decorated to resemble a naked breast, including a big nipple at the end. One of the women has painted a hideously elaborate set of blue and red blood vessels on her balloons as well. The women are carrying signs and shouting some sort of slogan. I say to myself, "These are feminists protesting something." I go out into the front yard to investigate. There on the lawn is a great commotion: a large number of people are sitting in folding chairs set up everywhere. Many of them are dressed for a political convention, wearing striped jackets with large buttons on the lapel and funny straw hats colored red, white and blue. I am extremely annoyed because these people have occupied my front yard. "Is this a convention organized by my landlord?", I angrily demand aloud. No one pays attention as all interest seems turned towards a rectangular table covered with a white cloth at the center of the yard. I fight my way through the crowd, vowing to find out if my landlord is at the center table. I see a few men wearing formal black suits seated behind the table, but my landlord is not among them.