As if it wasn't bad enough here in Heck, my computer is busted, and I'm typing on something borrowed that doesn't have the space available to install a word processor. So I'm typing in Microsoft Notepad and getting a word-count from math based on the size of the file and trying to remember how to spell stuff.

To top it off, both Paul Wolfowitz and Alberto Gonzales have joined me here in Heck, and it's hard to hear myself think over their blubbering. Losing their jobs? So what! Neither of them have the time to listen to my job woes, not that my job woes make a credible story in any case, but man, losing your job as president of the World Bank makes you instantly qualified for my job -- being a writer. Only get this: your book has already sold and is guaranteed to make you money even before you start typing.

Suck it up, Paul. At least you know you can get a little extra head because you lost your job over your girlfriend. Unless she's decided she can't put up with your whining either.

And no, you can't borrow my computer. It's not mine. Get a library card. You're welcome to use one of the public computers there, and you can keep whatever you can type in thirty minutes before you get kicked off and have to give it over to someone waiting to demote their ex-boyfriend off their Top Eight on their MySpace page. Oh, by the way, MySpace is officially your buddy Rupert Murdoch's fault, so feel free to kick him in the 'nads next time you bump into him doing the late night talk show circuit.

And there's ol' Gonzo Gonzales over there, wondering how he got himself into this mess. He's been Dubya's personal legal counsel since back in the old days in Texas, enjoying the ride on his buddy's coattails, lending Boss Man advice on what's illegal versus what's simply morally and ethically unsupportable for years and years -- and not quite noticing that his situation is completely tied to Bush's success. And if he doesn't keep his nose clean he'll end up exactly like Michael Brown and Julie Myers. As opposed to Julie Brown and Michael Myers.

Over there in the corner: Michael Brown, previously head of FEMA. Two tables away, pretending not to know him, Julie Myers, whose principal crime was being nominated for a prominent DHS position. Both hard at work on their memoirs. At least they have their own computers.

Gonzales had better count his blessings that he never had a serious nomination for Supreme Court Justice. That's a farther height from which to fall, and there would be more laughing and snickering than even Myers got.

Also in this section of the cafe (because everyone in Heck who is trying to write has to write in cafes -- or at the library) are Ashcroft and Rumsfeld, both of whom actually work behind the counter. Ashcroft just spit in Gonzales's latte, by the way, and winked at me to make sure I'd noticed. Washing dishes in the back we have Scooter Libby. It'll be a while before he can show his face out front.

Colin Powell and Scott McClellan only have to show up Sundays at 8:00 PM for Spoken Word Open Mic Nights, but they're mostly out of here now. Ken Lay is allowed up here every week (he stays in worse places) in order to clean the toilets. Karl Rove's name is on the roster, too, but he's either yet to make his first appearance -- or he only shows up in drag. In which case, that's him emceeing the Open Mic Nights. William Bennett only has to show up for the once-a-month Casino Nights now.

That must be the newly arrived Jerry Falwell over there busing tables in the Tinky Winky outfit, sermonizing for tips.

... And I've blown nearly my whole column on a fuckin' roll-call. Fair enough. My biggest gripe other than my computer being busted is that I can't leave here until Bush and Cheney show up.

Pardon me while I shift my ass. Jack Abramoff's lap is kinda lumpy.

Ahhh. That's better. Next time, Jack, clean off some room on your computer so I can install a decent word processor.