Rome is burning, he said, as he poured himself another drink. Yet, here I am knee deep in another river of pussy. Here it comes, she thought. Another self indulgent, whiskey soaked, diatribe about how fucking great everything was in the past. And how all us poor souls born too late to see the Stones at - wherever, or snort the good coke that they had at Studio 54 - well, we all just missed out on practically everything worth living for. And the worst part was, she agreed with him. Here we are, ...