Saturday night in San Francisco. The social parade. It's the night when I realize, even if I wasn't in the monkey suit, I'd still be just as terminally unhip. I am simply without hipness. I'm more back of the kneecap, or third rib, than hip. I wouldn't know cool, if I was dunked in a barrel of liquid nitrogen. I'd say I was a true square, but I think I have so many sharp angles of uncoolness, I am a hexagon.