I'm enjoying the mental picture of Ang spending all day in front of a computer ferociously voting for Bautista, while swearing in Spanish, eating imported Doritos and spitting at a worn out Derek Jeter rookie card pinned to his wall. Meanwhile, a dozen chickens are running around fighting over the crumbs. Empty crushed cans of Presidente litter the floor. His girlfriend asks how much longer he's going to be. She receives no answer and goes home.