A little-known and much misunderstood... former vice president of the United States, Donald Neal Laskin learned first-hand what results from exaggerating achievements on a resume when he was forced from office for lying. (Granted times have changed since merely stretching the truth could force one from office).... In any event, his political career in shambles, Laskin took to playing centerfield for the New York Yankees, then briefly served as Archbishop of Rome before exiting the Holy See over religious and dietary differences. The living embodiment of the legend "a legend in his own mind," Laskin never flagged in his search for the right career. Nuclear physicist, chocolatier, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Nothing was quite right. Then, on a rainy Sunday night outside a Spokane Seven Eleven, Laskin happened upon a soggy matchbook that had been carelessly discarded. Fascinated by its texture, colors and mostly the headline on the cover: Girls\Girls\Girls, he carefully opened it. Inside was the line drawing of a clown and under, the caption read, DRAW THIS FIGURE AND DISCOVER A NEW CAREER. Intrigued by the possibilities, Laskin ran to his car, rummaging through the glove compartment, under a stack of unpaid parking tickets and two dead D batteries, he found a pad and pencil. Then, right there, sitting on a curb in the parking lot, disdaining the dampness, he began to draw. Slowly. Carefully. Hour upon hour. A crowd gathered, curious to see the work as it progressed. Almost finished, the point of his pencil snagged in the paper as he was about to put the finishing touches to the clown's bulbous nose. With a resounding c-l-i-c-k, the point broke. Laskin's eyes darted from face to face, an unspoken but imploring message beseeching each in turn, "Got a pencil? Sharpener? Crayons? A lipstick? Deodorant?" His request was met with cold, indifferent silence, shrugs and blank stares. Then the small hand of a boy reached hesitantly through the sea of adults offering Laskin a ball point pen that had clearly seen better days. Smiling at the lad, Laskin gratefully took it. He placed it on the paper. Nothing. He shook it and tried again. Nothing. In one swift motion Laskin stood up, flung the pen down, balled up the paper and became a writer.…A little-known and much misunderstood... former vice president of the United States, Donald Neal Laskin learned first-hand what results from exaggerating achievements on a resume when he was forced from office for lying. (Granted times have changed since merely stretching the truth could force one from office).... In any event, his political career in shambles, Laskin took to playing centerfield for the New York Yankees, then briefly served as Archbishop of Rome before exiting the Holy See over religious and dietary differences. The living embodiment of the legend "a legend in his own mind," Laskin never flagged in his search for the right career. Nuclear physicist, chocolatier, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Nothing was quite right. Then, on a rainy Sunday night outside a Spokane Seven Eleven, Laskin happened upon a soggy matchbook that had been carelessly discarded. Fascinated by its texture, colors and mostly the headline on the cover: Girls\Girls\Girls, he carefully opened it. Inside was the line drawing of a clown and under, the caption read, DRAW THIS FIGURE AND DISCOVER A NEW CAREER. Intrigued by the possibilities, Laskin ran to his car, rummaging through the glove compartment, under a stack of unpaid parking tickets and two dead D batteries, he found a pad and pencil. Then, right there, sitting on a curb in the parking lot, disdaining the dampness, he began to draw. Slowly. Carefully. Hour upon hour. A crowd gathered, curious to see the work as it progressed. Almost finished, the point of his pencil snagged in the paper as he was about to put the finishing touches to the clown's bulbous nose. With a resounding c-l-i-c-k, the point broke. Laskin's eyes darted from face to face, an unspoken but imploring message beseeching each in turn, "Got a pencil? Sharpener? Crayons? A lipstick? Deodorant?" His request was met with cold, indifferent silence, shrugs and blank stares. Then the small hand of a boy reached hesitantly through the sea of adults offering Laskin a ball point pen that had clearly seen better days. Smiling at the lad, Laskin gratefully took it. He placed it on the paper. Nothing. He shook it and tried again. Nothing. In one swift motion Laskin stood up, flung the pen down, balled up the paper and became a writer.WWWW…