I once lived two blocks from a commuter rail station on the outskirts of Philadelphia. It was a row home, situated three feet from the sidewalk where commuters walked on their way to the train station. My job was an evening job, so I usually slept until nine in the morning. I had the Philadelphia Inquirer delivered every morning. All of a sudden, the delivery service became unreliable. I called the circulation office, and found out that I still had the same carrier I had for years. I began to suspect the commuters. I had a second story window directly above my front door. I started getting up early, and watching out that window to see what was really happening with my newspaper. Sure enough...