Skip Bayless. I'm writing this column on a Virgin America flight from New York to Los Angeles, and some guy in front of me is watching "First And 10," a show, I'm actually rather proud to admit, I have not watched since I sat through those 24 Straight Hours Of ESPN for the book. ("First And 10" started out as a spinoff from "Cold Pizza," which is completely crazy. If I may get my Fake Rick Reilly on for a moment, that's like spinning off a show from "Cop Rock!") Anyway, because I can't hear what he's saying, I'm watching Bayless gesticulate like mad on this guy's little television, and it's completely hypnotic. If you just watch Skip Bayless without sound, the experience transforms itself into some sort of performance art: The Wiry, Shifty Man, A Study In Excess Motion. It makes you wonder how our culture evolved to the point that this man was deemed worthy and valued enough to be put on television. And that's when you can't hear what he's saying. It's enough to make you start questioning man's ultimate purpose in the universe. I am dead serious about this: Set your DVR to record "First And 10" before you leave for work tomorrow, and then, when you get home, light a joint and watch it with the sound off. It will be a transcendental experience: You won't be able to look away, and down down down the rabbit hole you will go. Ride the bus, tune in, drop out.