I am pretty sure I am meeting one of the producers of VERONICA MARS tonight. I am going to ask him a million questions about things he no longer cares about and probably barely remembers at this point, yes, I am going to ask him questions until he looks about for a large rock, tests its heft in his hands, and brings it at last to rest against my skull like in that short story by Raymond Carver, thereby terminating our conversation.
