Is there any greater pleasure than settling down with a good book and a nice hot cup of coffee? Well, of course there is, we're not fools here. There's your bucatini all'amatriciana, The Daily Show, a check for $780 in the mail, a good dump, a Swedish dollhouse (for some folks), a new set of blackout curtains, café au lait at the Croissant d'Or, an illustrated version of Genesis by R. Crumb, slipping on the ice and thinking you're going to smack the back of your head for sure but you catch yourself just in time, finding a twenty in your jacket that you didn't know you had, getting bought a free martini even if it isn't Boodles, looking in the mirror and seeing that your hair doesn't look like an over-the-hill celebrity's mug shot, finding some Reddi-Wip in the fridge that you didn't know you had, discovering that the H1N1 shot didn't hurt at all, not having a boss, mashing that flea in your ear with a Q-tip, finding out that $5 bottle of wine isn't half bad, being introduced to Steve Buscemi by your Brooklyn friends because they know how much you would like to meet Steve Buscemi and being good friends that's what they would do (that one's still on my to-do list), finding a giant diamond on the sidewalk, sharing morning breath with someone, having your family doctor tell you that he can't explain it but the tests show that you're immortal, having a drawing turn out good, having someone tell you your drawing turned out good even when you know it didn't, scratching that scratch, waking up to find that you have super powers, waking up to find that nobody left a severed horse's head in your bed, having bad weather cancel a local appearance by Bill O'Reilly and Glenn Beck, not having watched Lost, listening to Johnny Dowd sing A Picture From Life's Other Side. And I haven't even touched upon the whole panoply of sexual activities. So I guess you see my point. You can just come down off your high horse, Mr. Good-Book Reader.