Listening to trite, cliche, and otherwise meaningless commentary on the state of the New York Yankees Baseball Club.
Falling into a hypoglycemic coma due to low blood sugar.
Reaching the end of a 60-hour long bender.
Deeply contemplating the etymological origins of a name like Sweeny Murti.
Totally mailing it in.
Slowly surrendering to the calm and peaceful embrace of death.
Being all old.
Just really tired.