I was wandering through the neighborhood, having just gotten out of the shower. A group of protesters were parading outside a small, suburban home, yelling at "Bill."
"Bill, where are the market reports?" "Bill, why did you shred the documents?" Etc.
I could see "Bill" inside his house, trying to ignore the protesters so he could watch TV. I began to yell at him, too.
"Bill! I just got here! I don't know what's going on, but you're an evil man, Bill!"
I took a look at his living room through the front window.
"Bill! Get some art on those walls! That's what walls are for, Bill!"
Bill seemed to think I was funny.