State of the Union? Nope. I tried to sit through the thing. I really did. I poured myself a nice big cup of soda, kicked my slippers up onto the coffee table, and plopped a Chloraseptic throat lozenge in my mouth (preemptive anesthetization against bile). But after about 45 minutes my lower intestines started to liquefy and my vision blurred. It suddenly became clear what was happening to me, and my condition was too far advanced to be reversed. Over the past few years I have undergone a barely perceptible transformation from a curious, involved, pragmatic, independent, and well-read student of America’s political and social landscape into a Bush Hater; a distant (but inbred) cousin of the Clinton Hater. Mongoloid, incontinent, knuckle-dragging, myopic and belligerent. That’s me. I never meant for it to happen. Hell, I used to have a subscription to the Wall Street Journal. But it happened. I can’t pretend otherwise. Fuck Bush. And fuck little Ashley too.