Immediately following John Edwards uplifting promise to protect our ports from marauding bands of corporate outsourcers, Susan Estrich pinched my ass and slipped her room key into my complimentary Pina Colada.  Which would have been flattering had the dirty little party girl not called me “Shep.” Incidentally, the cheap bastards at the DNC really skimped on the rum.  To the point where my complimentary Pina Colada tastes like tap water