Wow, from the first line, I am gripped by Pitt's expressive use of his 8th grade creative writing class text book.
It was a dark and stormy night, when out of the murk, the only sign of life, the burning ember of a disembodied cigarette appeared. Then out of the murk and into the light trudged the intrepid, chrome domed blogger, stinking of wet tobacco and booze, seeking to let the truth out.
Suddenly, a wormhole formed above his head and with it the smirking pudgy face of Karl Rove. "Tally ho!" Karl called as he dropped a brick on the thick rind of Pitt's skull. "Ha ha ha ha!" Rove chuckled clapping his hands gleefully in the closing wormhole. And the intrepid blogger hit the floor. Once again. To the song of the circling birdies.