Over our morning coffee at the Hemingway Bar, we occasionally look up to a big television screen on a wall not far from our table. American channels seem to be in vogue, and National Geographic is among them. A series of scenes of fancy sports cars crashing appears at some point, and I start watching in earnest. “Ah,” I whisper to my beloved, “I love cars crashing!” And then the title of the television show appears on the screen: Science of Stupid. “Hey,” I raise my voice, “this is a show I wouldn’t mind watching all the time!” My beloved keeps mum. As the expression goes, she is not a morning person.