Beatricia: You don’t have to get lucky to find Tom Petty obituaries- especially if you want those obituaries to be delivered with the nose tilted at a certain angle, and with caveats about Petty’s “ubiquitous presence in classic rock radio.” (To those in the know, that’s code for “uncoolness”- as though creating music that compels people to sing along, music that strikes a chord with nearly everyone, music that WORKS, was an invitation to be shoved against a locker door by hip, critical bullies.) These same people write about Petty as if mashed potatoes had suddenly disappeared from our universe; as if it were the unimaginable absence of a dish almost everyone has had at some point, but few gourmets would obsess over. Well, I tell you, I could play with mashed potatoes for hours. It is the ONLY food I feel comfortable playing with! You can’t play with SOUP, can you? But mashed potatoes are the playground of world cuisine! Make a royal castle out of mash, make a circus tent. Mashed potatoes are resilient! Mashed potatoes aren’t actually petty! They’re GENEROUS! They–
Tracey: Mom… I know you’re grieving, but you’re lacking in the “making sense” department right now.
Beatricia: Here’s all I’ll say. Goodbye to the wild one, forever.