So the other day, I’m practicing my fake cry that morphs into a hyena laugh and back again when I notice the estimable C. Richard Marsh bawling like nobody’s beeswax. If anyone has two thumbs and knows a real cry, it’s this gal (you have to imagine me pointing at myself with my thumbs. I saw it on Scrubs once.), so I go over to him, and I’m like, “Hey bud, what’s wrong?” He looks at me and kind of shakes his head, and he goes, “I just learned the Doobie Brothers broke up”. I go, “Come on, Chaz, I know you got that from that scene in “Romancing the Stone” where Michael Douglas gets all pissed that the Doobies broke up because he’s been in the wild for so long.” So the little guy just looks at me like I’m crazy, and he goes, “Dude, I’m like three months old. I can barely hold my neck up. When am I going to see a Michael Douglas movie?” Which I thought was a good point. But then I was like, “Wait a minute, then how do you know about the Doobie Brothers in the first place?” So he shrugs and goes — get this — “I don’t know, from around, I guess.” What the hell does that mean? He sounds like a teenager. So I said, “Do you even know what a Doobie is?” He goes, “Well, I guess when one member of the band is on his own, like in a record shop or something. Then he’s just a Doobie.” Which was a ridiculous thing to say, but before I could respond, he spontaneously spit up, signaling that the conversation was over. I could only sit and marvel at the audacity of youth. Well played, Cha-Cha. Well played.