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The morning of Day Three at the Ariannaville Times-Picayune showcases a profound breakthrough, as Huffington drags waterbedridden producing legend Robert Evans into the blogosphere by his gold chains and chest hair:

Not being a believer in the perennial book of rules… By purpose, I’ve broken most every one of them. Why shouldn’t I? The people who made ‘em don’t live by ‘em …so why should I ? Me?…I’ve got my own book of rules: THE CELEBRATION OF THE INDIVIDUAL Try a thing you haven’t done three times.
Once, to get over the fear of doing it.
Twice, to learn how to do it.
And the third time, to figure out whether you like it or not.

Have they treated me a bit harshly at times? Oh, yes!
…But they’ve made my life one of wealth… wealth of discovery.

Ain’t that what life is all about?

Who knew Evans had even heard of the internets? Since the idea of him tapping away at a laptop is far too mindblowing to even consider, we picture the producer sloshing up to the side of his undulating bed to whisper his blog wisdom into the ear of English, his trusty English manservant, who then calls Huffington on a special princess phone with the burnished word-gem for her to transcribe and post. Once he's sure that English has executed his duty, Evans can then return his attention to the hooker in the French maid outfit who's been idling beside him. He is, after all, a man of classic taste.