Life in Hogan's Alley (pop. 200) is exceedingly slow -- so slow, in fact, that there is no need for a stoplight on Main Street. On one recent morning, a Gomer Pyle look-alike loafed on a sidewalk outside the post office. Another resident slogged his way to the Pastime Bar for a morning pick-me-up.
Suddenly the silence was broken by the boom of a shotgun. Three police cruisers, their tires squealing, encircled an old faded green station wagon idling at a curb. A pack of fresh-faced young men and women in navy blue polyester jackets dashed around the corner of the...
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