"... so she gets this salty look on her face and says to me 'Oh, you just don't like Obama because he's
popular, you're such a dyspeptic bastard'. I thanked her for the compliment and pointed out that our relationship may have ended like a Nietzscheian whelp in the darkness - but at least it improved her vocabulary. Though not, apparently, her sense of humour, seeing how she stormed off leaving her current beau to sneer at me as if I were an undergrad or some such awful thing. I mean, of course I don't like the guy because he's popular. American Idol is popular. Bowling is popular. And if Hollywood starlets are preening and prattling over a thing, well, fuckin' eh, I'm goin' dyspeptic..."
