And worse than being held at gunpoint by Richard Cannistrari is extraordinary rendition by our Vice-President. Dick Cheney was giving some sort of lecture and I stood up and pointed at him silently, you know, “J'accuse”. Other people started pointing at him as well, but I was the only one standing, and he turned to me and said with that Cheney snarl, “You! You want a piece of me? I'll have you killed!” I just said, “Do what you want” and kept pointing at him, so he called up his Secret Service goons and they hustled me off to a back room. Believe it or not Karl Rove was actually counseling restraint, he said don’t leave any marks because all those people saw him get taken away, and I was pretty scared in fact, but a moment later I found myself an inch above the bed with the word “Shit” in my mouth because we’d just had a 4.2 earthquake. Juliana said something about the window, and I thought she meant go to the window because there was something to see outside, but she was saying get out of bed so you’re not under the window, you don’t want it break from aftershocks and cover you with shards of broken glass. Which it didn't, in fact I don’t think it was a very big quake since it didn't set off any car alarms or wake the bird up (that’s not a sexual euphemism; Chaitzel, usually so sensitive to slight movements, slept through it) but I still had trouble getting back to sleep. I miss the good old days of dreaming about going on vacation with the Quayle family.