The Latest Slack Chat from Barstool Politickin’

Slack Chat: Return of the Son of Leavenworth Revisited

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“Hey Rocky, watch me pull a porn star out of my hat!”

T: Hey J, is Barbara Bush going to make this year’s dirt naps of the rich and famous article? It’s a pretty exclusive list, and people are dyin’ to get on it.

J: Oh, boo hiss.

T: Sorry, I had a weak moment.

J: You are a weak moment.

T: I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your pot farm combine.

J: Never mind.

T: So. Bush. Is she nappable?

J: I’m sure that she is, being a former First Lady. That’s certainly worthy of a year-end mention.

T: I suppose so; I’m sure we would have done Linda McCartney. Covered her escape from the mortal coil, I mean. Don’t send letters.

J: If there had been a Facebook, or blogs, or social media back then, yes.

T: I think the Internet and windows existed; I’m guessing Linda died in 1998.

Bush wasn’t just married to fame, though; she gave birth to a president, too. It would have helped if one of Linda’s kids had written “Uptown Funk,” or something, maybe. But I think she’d qualify without it. She played a mean tamborine.

J: *investigoogle* Yeah, it was 1998. Lucky guess.

T: I am a GOD.

J: You transposed a couple of letters there. Carry the two, and you are actually a dog.

T: Close enough.

J:  Well, Babs is certainly worthy of a spot in the year-end tribute, anyway. What other year-end pontificating are we going to do? Maybe “The Year in Criminal Justice”?

T: It’s April.

J: No time like the future.

T: For what?

J: For an awkward segue, of course.

T: I’m game. Spit it out.

J: Will we be checking to see who’s cashed a ticket in the Leavenworth Derby?

Slack Chat: Handicapping the Race to Leavenworth (Nov 2, 2017)

T: What a tremendous, spontaneous idea.

J: You are a dog.

T: Well, I –

J: Never mind. Let’s do LD III.

T: Is this a sequel to Leavenworth Revisited?  We should just call it the Dirty (Six) Dozen, ‘Cause there’s a lot of ’em, and I’m pretty sure that whole 72 vesseled virgins thing is a prison metaphor.

J: What?

T: What the hell is a vesseled virgin, anyway?

 

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