You were playing strip bowling with the one and only Jameson Hawthorne. The rules were simple. The goal was to knock over the least pins. But any time the ball ends up in the gutter, you lose an article of clothing. It was clear that excelling at this game required precision and risk. He cuts it short and he starts pulling clothes off. His shoes, his socks, then his shirt. He messes up again and his fingers slip in the waistband of his pants. He sighs. “Here we go again.”