Elmo grabbed the microphone and stared out at the screaming crowd at the smoky cafe. As his eyes scanned for the reassuring gaze of Elma, he began to croon: “Today will be breezy with scattered showers and highs in the middle 60s. Tomorrow will be partly sunny, also in the 60s.” Elma was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a small, dark Rita sporting a Sublime tatoo held his gaze. She was holding a peach soda and a slim cigarette in one hand and keeping the beat against her knee with an Italian dictionary. Much to Elmo’s delight, she winked and mouthed the words: “Me piace i cantante biondi.” “Wow,” thought Elmo. “I can’t wait to finish this set.”