I STILL DON'T know who the president is. Do I give a shit? Sure I do. It was the most important election of our lifetime. That's what everyone was saying. I almost shit my pants. I'm serious, for a couple days there I was walking around with my cheeks squeezed tighter than an ex-altar boy dreaming about his childhood.

So much at stake: the environment, Iraq, Supreme Court, our rights, blah blah blah ... and I still don't know. Last time Bush stoled an election, many of my friends had to go on Prozac. If he stoled it again, don't even bother because it basically means the end of the world, as I understand it.

Whereas if John Kerry stoled the election, um, eventually the world's going to end anyway. So tell me again why we couldn't vote for Ralph Nader? Or Neno or Popeye or Barbara Lee or Barbara Feldon? Or better yet stay home and do something really meaningful, like sitting on a log with some chickens?

Why? Because we think we're such big beans. The environment will destroy the environment with or without our help, I think, same as you, personally, can take vitamins or smoke cigarettes and either way you're going to die. Will our rights be eroded? As I was trying to explain to an innocent bystander at the corner of Mission and 24th, screaming into his ear through my megaphone and wearing a sandwich board, "YES, YOUR RIGHTS WILL BE ERODED!!!" Bush, Kerry. Cigarettes. Vitamins.

Do I give a flying fuck? I don't know, I think the most important presidential election of my lifetime was the one where Walter Mondale had the balls to pick an actual lady for his running mate. Now that was something to vote for, if you were alive and of age, which I was and was, respectively. Wouldn't that of been something? Actual tits and balls in the White House.

But not in our country, not on our watch.

Now what rights were we worried about eroding?

Listen to me, man, I'm positutely ranting. And the funny thing is I actually have something of relevance to write about this week. The Red Sox won the World Series! This we know, and this is big, big news, if for no other reason because it teaches us an important life lesson: that the Indians might well win it some day too. Maybe even in our big beanie lifetimes of most-important elections, extra-large pizzas, and very little consequence.

I watched one of the games, Game 3, Pedro's start, at my new favorite sports bar. Except it's not a sports bar so much as a sports Thai restaurant. Ozone. Corner of Polk and Sutter, upstairs where the great Kublai Kahn Mongolian Barbecue used to be.

Caught first pitch, so it must have been five, five-fifteen I came in, which might explain why nobody at all was in the place except two workers and at least 20 TVs. Not on.

"You gonna put on the game?" I asked, before committing myself. I was vaguely aiming for either the counter or the corner room full of tables and natural light.

"You want to watch the big screen?" the guy said.

I hadn't noticed it. In the middle of the place there's another seating area with the biggest big-screen TV I've ever seen. I mean it's bigger than a lot of movie theater screens these days. It's so big I laughed when I saw it. "Sure," I said, although secretly I was scared, knowing full well that Johnny Damon was going to be bigger than me. Hell, on that screen, even Pedro would be bigger than me. I could have walked into it and played outfield. Except I didn't have my glove.

So instead I took a seat in the corner, kicked back, ordered three things, and had the whole place to myself. Three things = duck salad ($7.95) + duck soup ($6.95) + duck curry ($7.95). I'm thematical – you know me. Especially during baseball season. So that was my humble contribution to Boston's juju, and it worked.

Not only that but it was happy hour! I didn't know this when I over-ordered, but between 3 and 6:30 they take 25 percent off of everything. And not only that but it was all good. The soup, with roast duck and egg noodles (or rice ones, if you prefer) was excellent. And red curry is always a favorite, with pineapple and tomato and "sliced ducks," as they put it. The salad was good too. Fresh mint and lime, but a little bit dusty. I don't know, like they over-sprinkled it with whatever that is. Salty seasoning powder.

Now. Don't like duck? Do like variety? Not to worry, it's a huge menu, including garlic and pepper frog, beef jerky, chicken feet salad, mint leaf with meats. "Three tastes fish." So on, so forth.

Ozone. 1160 Polk (at Sutter), S.F. (415) 440-9663. Daily: 11:30 a.m.-midnight. Takeout and delivery available. Beer and wine. MasterCard, Visa. Wheelchair accessible.

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Dan Leone is the author of Eat This, San Francisco (Sasquatch Books), a collection of Cheap Eats restaurant reviews, and The Meaning of Lunch (Mammoth Books).