Given the insane beer coverage, the Big O would be smart to release his previous dinner’s menu every morning and let all the serious journalists go into a feeding frenzy second-guessing his choice of monkfish (unsustainable!) over wild salmon (too “let ‘em eat brioche”!) or pork (heritage? what, is he too good for Smithfield shit?) over pasta (furrin food? where’s the beef?) The NYTimes could assign three or four reporters just to blog about every bite. Meanwhile, he could move on in peace to the big issues that are so bad for ratings. Like: Will it ever be possible to have a country where 99-cent-burger handlers with hepatitis could get treatment before infecting half a town? Sorry, there are bad bitch jokes to be made.