That backyard conversation.

At 10 p.m. last night, neighbors of mine were sitting in their backyard having a loud conversation. I could overhear bits of it:

The last time I was in town … oh my God, I saw it all … I got it … what … where you come from … sophomore… Jay Leno last night … woman was 90 years old … Helloooo? … you were good … no one has ever … Layla … Layla! … Ayatollah … OH! I heard that! … Whoooo! … O'Brien, by the way …

At 4 a.m.—4 a.m.!—the conversation is still going on! No women's voices anymore. Perhaps just two men, going on and on, without reason. It's still loud enough that I can pick out a few words:

Michael Moore … he makes himself richer … the Bush family … he's rich …. scientologists … if my daughter is pregnant at 15, she's not leaving the house … what would you do? … she'd be out, riding around, with a bunch of dudes? … race had nothing to do with it … white trash …

Seriously, if I were Sharon Osbourne, I would have thrown the ham over the fence a few hours ago.