HAVING DRINKS WITH DEWEY--He leans over furtively. We're at a Friday's, and the TV is blaring an incessant mixture of ads, ersatz news and commentary. "I need to ask you something," he says hoarsely.

Can do. I can deliver. I can comment on politics (uninformedly) just as well as pop culture (as long as it's from ten years ago). Hit me.

"What's Tweeter."

Shit, I don't know. I make up some bogus definition involving Tweety Bird and Shakespearian conversion: a verb form of a bird getting chased by a big dumb cat. "Has something to do with us at the mercy of forces bigger than we are."

Dewey nods sagely. "That's what I thought."

Score.