There was a great piece by A.O. "Call Me Tony" Scott in yesterday's New York Times (sorry, kids, I'm a bit behind on the usual "weekend reading", having spent much of the past three days on vacation, "drinking", "sleeping" and "gambling"). He's exploring the throughline connecting this summer's two movies about the ebbs and flows of bachelorism, The Wedding Crashers and Broken Flowers - but, as Tony asks, "who uses words like "bachelor" and "Don Juan" - or any of a number of similarly quaint synonyms ... anymore?" The very idea of "bachelorism" seems like a pre-sexual revolution relic, implying under all circumstances that marriage is a womans provice to push and a man's province to flee. There's no longer a feeling that "bachelors" belong to a cushy post-Playboy club, and as Scott points out, neither Crashers nor Flowers will really let its womanizing protags pretend otherwise.