They would go down to the corner bar and have a few martinis and then come back to work and chase the secretary around the desk for the rest of the afternoon while commenting on how nice her jugs bounced when she ran. (This was also before the days of sexual harrassment suits and also before men lost their testicles to hairy-armpitted feminists). For porn they'd go home and read Molly's stream-of-consciousness in Joyce's *Ulysses* or take a peek at the snatch shot of Carmen Miranda with her dress whirling up around her hips and NO underwear. Okay, it was Carmen Miranda, but it was also still a snatch shot, something almost unheard of in those days. You have to take what you can get.