Barbra enjoys reading the New York Post out loud.
Today, there’s a headline about troubled actor Rip Torn, who under the painful spell of addiction, broke into a bank and was arrested.
Barbara’s recounting his sordid tale, but keeps on calling him “Rip Tom.”
I’m listening, enthralled by this. She turns to me.
“You know, you look exactly like Jack Nicholson,” she says. “Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. With your little smirk there.”
I can attest that I look nothing like Jack Nicholson in anything.