In a typical episode, he'd get up make some coffee, and then stretch out on his couch in his boxer shorts staring at the computer. Every once in a while he'd actually type something. "Woo," you'd think, "this can't possibly be real. It must be scripted." Then, just at the moment you could cut the tension with a knife, he'd get up and make more coffee. Some of the coffee he'd drink, and some he'd spill. Sometimes he'd actually mutter to himself, "That's pretty good coffee."
The show would be inter-cut with interviews, like his wife could talk about how she wishes he'd wipe up his damn coffee spills once in a while, and maybe his neighbor could come on about how if he insists on working in his boxer shorts, the least he could do is stay away from the picture windows.
Then - back to the action. He's staring at his computer again, and you can just tell he's really concentrating on something. His eyes are closed, he's thinking so hard. What is he working on? A hard-boiled detective thriller? A scathing book review? An insightful personal essay chock-full of epiphany and wry wisdom?
Then he'd begin to snore.
Cut to commercial.