And now an excerpt from the unfinished masterpiece titled "Idiocy?", currently in its seventh year of being written:

My thoughts switched again to my crumpled suit. It was a cheap one I picked out during my first year at U of C. I wouldn’t let my parents buy me one, I guess I felt guilty that I was wasting their money on an education that I wasn’t using. Regardless, even with my healthy new checks, I never felt like getting up to buy a new suit. I picked the dark olive suit off the floor and tried to straighten it with my hands. I knew it was a feeble attempt, but it was out of habit. I looked in my drawers, great, all out of socks and underwear. Well, I’d been out of socks and underwear for two days as it was, so it was another day of smily face boxers for me. The socks I wasn’t happy about, I turned over old newspapers searching the floor until I found a pair under the bed that looked like they hadn’t been worn in a while. You have to understand my theory on clothes, especially socks. Socks are only good for one day of wear, maybe two if you’re lucky. Now, if your socks haven’t been worn for two or three weeks, I firmly believe that the odor and whatever else your foot projects onto the sock, evaporates. Therefore, I usually have no problem with wearing old socks, the only exception is if you’ve already done this to the sock twice. Then the sock must be washed. Underwear on the other hand is a completely different matter. You can wear underwear as long as it feels good, but you may in no way ever put on an old pair of underwear, it doesn’t work the way the socks do.
So, I put on my navy blue socks, smelled my white shirts that hugged all the corners of the room as if saying “please, please, not me!” I did a smell check and decided which one was the best. I put on the only tie in sight, pulled on my suit, and looked in the mirror. Yes, I was a used car salesman. A little cologne, and I was ready to leave. A little light went off in my head saying “pack”, I hated those lights. So I got my old, worn, brown briefcase, looked over the room and decided I would buy some clothes in Warsaw. I threw in my trusty deoderent/anti-perspirent, and I was ready to go. Getting into my car I could feel my feet, and figured that maybe it was time to amend my sock theory.

Now if that isn't some A-grade writing I don't know what is, I mean Kant, Hesse, Hemmingway, Dostoyevsky, they all come to mind.