I have always possessed an endless fascination with retro food delivery. The ice cream truck, Schwan's delivery, etc. But, above all, I always wanted a milkman. A smiley elder gentleman knocking on my door every week, handing over my smooth glass bottle of non-fat (yes, non-fat) and offering a "Have a good week, Mike." Apparently, this could be reality. Today the LA Times has a nice piece on the ever-dying, yet still ticking breed of milkmen in Los Angeles.
Maybe somebody should tell LeBron and sway him to the Clippers.