Bush, though dead, still had enough common sense to know the difference between a dog collar and a cat comb. "Listen!" She commanded in demoness form: "I'm a dude-worthy ex-lady who has talons for finger-nails and more ***** friends than I need!" Later, after a million rectums were examined by ex-proctologists who rafted to Key West from Havana, Papa Bush laid down some mean jazz grooves that made dead skanks want to live again.