After dinner, I kicked my feet up on the coffee table and read the New York Times while the Red Sox tried to squeeze another game out of the Yankees. I was weaaring my thick rimmed black glasses designed by Versace. I had on second hand clothes, polyester pants and a light blue alligator shirt, short sleeved. I finished the article I was reading and decided I should make myself a Cappuccino. (My father won a Cappuccino maker in a golf tournament we played in earlier in the year. He had no use for it. He wanted to trade it in for some pots.) It was a little cool in our apartment. When my Cappuccino was prepared, I decided it was time to sit down at my Macintosh computer and compose a well articulated post concerned with detailed reasons why it is impossible for me or anyone informed to vote for George W. Bush. I set my cell phone down next to the keyboard should somone call. It was at this moment, sitting in front of an empty blog screen with a steaming Cappuccino fogging up my arty glasses, critical thoughts of Bush brewing in my head, that I was fully realized...

I completely, entirely suck.