Play On

I can hear the smooth sound of jazz coming up behind me, mixed with the barely audible purr of a good engine.

A silver Cadillac CTS pulls up to the crosswalk. A man slightly resembling Common , complete with a stylish newspaper boy cap and polo, takes a long drag from his cigarette. A true player, no doubt. And like a true player, he has a vanity plate I spy after he speeds off.

"D MOORE".

That's right. The Dinty Moore Player. That's beef stew, bitches.