Too lazy to photograph the pie

And you know what pies look like. There is nothing special about this one, except that it lacks ginger and has compensating cloves. My fingers touched the crust-dough, of course. We are all used to consuming skin cells. We breathe them all the time. Dust motes nothing.

I must be the most under-informed voter of all time.

(Since you know I watched all the debates, did a bunch of fact-checking and article-reading … even heard plenty 'o other side on the radio, you know that's irony and such.) Still there are always surprises.

Last night, we flipped by Barbara Walter's interview with Barack Obama, and I was surprised (but not that surprised) to learn that he is a smoker.

"Ohmigod! Obama smokes?!?!"

I always wished I liked cigarettes and then am always happy I do not have to worry about their health-effects — they seem so wonderful in the movies and then they stink so terribly and make me feel nauseous and wheezy. I avoid bars and other venues where people smoke. I cringe when I see people younger than I am smoking … in other words, smoking is gross, and I hate smokers.

Knowing Obama smokes would not have changed my vote.

It actually makes him seem even cooler.

And then he will be ever cooler when he quits. Except it's probably fine to have a relatively non-destructive vice; drinking and other things make your brain fuzzy; and philandering and gambling just waste time and family.

I will presume that no one has actually smoked in the White House for some time now.

Can't you just picture Obama coming out at 8 p.m. and having a smoke while looking out on the back lawns towards the security fence?

I can also picture one of those famous posters of him but transformed with him taking a drag and squinting like the Marlboro Man.

One last thing: if Barack smokes, I totally want to know what witchcraft he's using on those crazy-white teeth of his every night.