O'Reilly evidently shoved some dude who works for Obama and threatened to take him outside and finish the job, or whatever. God, I love this dude. He is like a gargantuan mutant version of the Pittsburgh-classic, Irish-whiskey drunk: vulgarly avuncular and somehow always getting closer to your face as his breath and speech decline in quality. They ought to get rid of the current set for his show and give him a U-shape bar with a buzzing Smoke-O-Lator overhead, a natty jackalope, and three thin domestic beers on tap. He would have only one television monitor, which would be something circa 1979, ceiling-mounted behind him and playing ESPN with a lot of red bleed. Some asshole keeps playing "Jolene" on the jukebox. The pretzels are stale. The bartender is in the bathroom doing over-cut blow off the tank of the toilet, which he wiped off with his sleeve. The only other guy in the bar is an elderly black man named Hollis who's been asleep for three hours in front of his sweating Jack and Coke, but Bill eyes him warily anyway. Could be dangerous.