SS: These are the good years for Jim and me. Tuesday's election got me all inspired so I decided to clean all the junk out of the basement, and I found a diary from college with a poem in it. I wrote it for a boy whose name I've forgotten. "O beloved radiance of the galaxies, your embrace has melted my core, your great waves crash on my rocky shore, I am a grain of sand, an insignificant speck, a pilgrim and you, O magnificent you, are my Mecca." I took it upstairs and started making an apology lasagna for the Johnsons. To make amends for the thing Jim said at their election party.

TR: What's that?

SS: Nothing.

TR: Looks like you dug it out of the trash.

SS: It's just an old diary I threw away.

TR: Oh.

SS: From before I knew you.

TR: (BRIGHTER) Oh. Who's your mecca?

SS: Nobody you know. -I'm thinking we should call up the Johnsons and apologize for election night -- what do you think?
TR: Oh for crying out loud.

SS: Well, they were upset about what you said.

TR: What did I say?

SS: You said, "What else is on?

TR: I just got tired of everybody talking about how historic it was and suddenly everybody looks at me like I'm a skinhead.

SS: So it was historic.

TR: But we've seen this moment coming for six months. By the time it got there, it felt like it happened a long time ago.

SS: Jim. I wonder if you've been getting enough ketchup.

TR: Huh ?

SS: Ketchup contains natural mellowing agents that help you accept that there are right moments and wrong moments.

TR: So who's this -- "O magnificent you, are my Mecca."?

SS: It was a long time ago, Jim.

RD (SINGS): These are the good times
A nation wakes at dawn
To find a brand-new President
And new snow on the lawn.
Life is flowing
Like ketchup on Croutons

GK: Ketchup, for the good times.

RD: Ketchup, ketchup.