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