During our formative years we used to listen to a disc jockey known for his tweedy baritone and sly sense of humor. We stopped listening to him, however, once we hit adolescence, and, as such, had no idea he was arrested and charged with lewd conduct. Once apprised of his predicament, however, we followed the trial with great curiosity and healthy dose of nostalgia, as most us had found adulthood to be fraught with complexities and vagaries most unpleasant, and the sound of the disc jockey’s voice – not to mention his generically-handsome visage, which used to be plastered on billboards around the city – brought us back to a simpler time, when all we had to worry about was the volume of sugary snacks we were allowed to consume. The disc jockey was acquitted due to a technicality, and, much to our delight, announced at a press conference that he had been offered a new job with a radio station we had more than a passing acquaintance with, as the station sometimes played songs we recognized. We all tuned in and listened to the disc jockey’s first show, during which he felt it necessary to explain what exactly had transpired between himself and the so-called victim of his alleged indiscretions. The disc jockey said he had no idea that the acts he performed were illegal in most states, and that he had always assumed that these acts, when done the right way, were a sure sign that a raucous bout of lovemaking was headed to its inevitable, and mutually satisfying, conclusion.