Chapter 1: Of wine and Razors      First, picture this: a sixty-nine-year old bearded man, bespeckled and unnaturally pink in color, sits in a frayed wicker chair in the kitchen of his cabin somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. Sixty-nine years old is old, he realizes, though he doesn’t particularly feel old. Just call it a hunch.      In one hand he holds a bottle of Boone’s Farm wine, strawberry.      In the other,

From the cutting room floor, ABC News, continued: 20/20’s Barbara Walters: “A fresh controversy surrounds your husband’s campaign, Teresa, but this time it involves you — and specifically, your refusal to release your tax returns to the press.” Teresa Heinz Kerry: “Yes.” Barbara Walters: “Your husband very publicly called for a full financial disclosure from President and Mrs. Bush, who have since complied. Does it worry you, then, that your

Q: What do you get when you cross Michael Moore and a one-legged monkey on a tricycle? A: Fuck Michael Moore.

Well. It turns out one of the side effects of Zestril is feeling incredibly stoned all of a sudden — which can be cool, provided you’ve just taken a few hits of primo herb from the hole you bored in an apple and can put the whole Peanut Butter Conspiracy mindscramble into some sort of workable context. When the feeling comes on abruptly and you’re not expecting it, however, it’s