Jonah, I put this to you for your adjudication:
I was sitting in a steam bath in a Washington health club one afternoon when the door swung open and the Rev. Jesse Jackson strode in. I know it was the good reverend because before he took his seat on the bench he went around the little room, parting the billows of steam to shake hands with and introduce himself to everyone inside. A naked man shaking hands with naked men. It’s the sort of thing that lingers in the mind.
Now, the reverend didn’t ask for any favors–what favors could anyone in a steam room bestow? But he did work the place like a ward boss.
Was that a dick-wee-ah?