The following dialogue is excerpted from a conversation with my mother, the PhD, this past Friday night:

Me: So, did you hear Arthur Miller (the playwright) died? How sad.
Dad: Yes, I read that.
Mom: I wonder who’s going to leave roses for Marilyn Monroe now?
Me: Is she still dead?
Dad: I’m sure it’s been pre-arranged to have them delivered in perpetuity.
Me: I don’t get it. She had relationships with some very accomplished people, such as Miller, JFK, and Joe DiMaggio. Sure, she was glamorous, but she was as dumb as a box of rocks. I don’t see what the big deal was about her.
Mom: She had big tits!
Me: Oh. ::Blink, blink::
Dad: ::Blink, blink::
Deb: ::Blink, blink::