From here on out, I'm going to read Gail Collins and participate in the game that I read about somewhere on the internets -- it's sort of like a drinking game without the drinks, a game for the literary nerd, perhaps, or, at the very least, the word nerd.
Basically, you read her very incisive, very funny yet not snarky (think Maureen Dowd when you think snark) columns in the The New York Times and wait for/marvel at her sneaking in a sentence about Mitt Romney and the dog he tied to the roof to travel to Canada. No matter what she's writing about, she manages to include this interesting, it's-a-big-world and everyone is weird and has their own literal baggage fact.
It's the Kevin Bacon game for the election year. Maybe it should be a drinking game -- to help us get through it.
Here's today's column.
Since it's only 8:06 am here in threatening-rain Los Angeles, I'm off to mix myself a mimosa with the oranges in the backyard.