By Morris Newman
TIPPER and AL GORE have retired for the evening. They lie supine under the covers and are wearing pajamas, each with their respective monograms on the chest pockets.
Al: "Honey, something's been on my mind...."
Tipper: "If it's dirty, please write it down. You know I don't like to hear smutty language."
Al. (chuckling): "No, hon, nothing like that. Those fires are banked for the night. I'm just wondering if we blew enough insulation into this house."
Tipper (lecturing tone): "Albert, we have 300 cubic yards of insulation in this house. Plus we live in Tennessee, not Wasilla. It's never below 50 degrees."
AL: "I know, I know. It's just that this house is so… freakin' gi-normous. Sometimes I don't see you for days."
Tipper: "It's true. But, then again, it's not even the biggest on the block!" (coyly): "Did you miss me?"
