Yesterday, on a crowded subway, there was a tall athletic man standing next to me. I'm short so my eye level was at his tie. I thought his tie was quite stylish and then noticed the fine material and colour of his suit and the powder-blue shirt. Then I noticed the dude was reading what looked like a non-fiction paperback and that he was almost finished it. That showed dedication and a sustained thinking ability.
Alas! When I got nosy, and peered under to see the book's cover I discovered he was reading Decision Points by the cretinous war criminal george w. bush. When the subway stopped at Queen the gentleman turned out to be a handsome youngster and he was lugging his gym duffle bag. Some finance or management up-and-comer who thinks enough of shit-headed ideas and "leaders" that he's plowed almost all the way through the ghost-written babblings of a fuck-head like bush II.
In a saner time (and there were saner times) bush II would be in a mad-house, having never risen above his mediocrity and therefore decided to destroy himself utterly with alcohol. And our young hero would ... well, he'd probably still be a privileged prick, but he wouldn't be poisoning his brain with garbage like Decision Points.