Having a buffet lunch is always a dubious process. After a mid-afternoon feast, it

It’s 1936 outside of the Skeesie National Bank. You’re honking on the horn of your Studebaker yelling, ‘You dumb mugs, grab the dough!’ A tall thin man and a short fat man wearing tiny masks bounce down the steps and into the car. As you swerve from side to side down Main Street, Freddy the Finger opens a burlap sack with a “$” printed on it, displaying piles of crisp green centuries.
‘Wooo-ee, It’s the corn for us tonight’ whoops Joe the Other Finger. But you know better- if you don