Things Mrs. Patsy Ramsey, formerly of Boulder, CO, said to the police that morning

A dingo ate my baby!

Officier, please settle this disagreement I'm having with my blind hubby. Wouldn't anyone with eyes agree that whoever wrote this ransom notes has lovely penmanship?

You always lose the thing you love most. And then, something like this happens, too.

She just wouldn't drink her go-go juice.

Why would someone hurt my baby? Well, other than forgetting to change key on the bridge to the Good Ship Lollipop, after she'd been told and told and told!

Possible motives? Like I have that kind of time!

Yes, it is sad. But I take no small consolation in knowing her best years were behind her.

Is this going to take long? Please let me know if I have to change my hair appointment. Now that would be tragic. It's hell to get in there without an appointment well in advance.

On the bright side, I can still return those tap shoes.

Foreign FACTION, not fraction, you idiot! Jesus on the Cross, can't you even read what I, ur, THEY wrote?

I'll never forget this morning. Unless I have an herbal wrap this afternoon.

Oh goodness, not more of that! Let's find something cheerful talk about. Like plaids!

You know what would be fun? If I did a holiday-themed cardigan fashion show for everyone! Let's!

That strangled neck is just screaming for a pert scarf!

She was Daddy's little girl. And by girl, I mean whore.

Yes, the kidnappers said they would kill her if I called the police. Well, I don't negotiate with terrorists! Good work on getting that crime scene tape up.

Just wait for the new DL format.

A true hostess is revealed in the unexpected touches, so I potpourried the crime scene. You're welcome!

If the Lord Jesus only gave me the power to bring my baby back from the dead, I'd almost use it.

OK, funny story . . .

Yes, that is an interesting question, but I'm afraid we're going to have continue this when John and I get back from Maui! After last night, this gal needs a vacay!

Oh my! I said the same thing years ago. Who names their son Fleet?

Too soon, OP.

The snow was so white that morning...

Oh my God! Oh my dear Lord Jesus Christ! God in Heaven, wipe my precious eyes! I can't bear to see this! It don't wish to remember anything so gruesome. Like her "Salome on Skates" at the Miss Pintsize Boulder-at-Large pageant!

And then John laid her on the floor. And not for the first time.

I'm confused. The girl died in 1996. The mother in 2006. It's 2015. Why is this even interesting?

[quote]Lost

You're not only lost, you're tedious.

If her chain smoking didn't kill her, then it's gotta be cirrhosis.

Some of these are so fucking hilarious. I can't even compete. I salute u all above me.

[quote] quick-ball-change

Oh, dear

Whenever a sparrow of the Lord passes, I always wonder what they did to rub Him the wrong way. Except this time. I know what it was. Coffee?

Oh my God, she's been dead since yesterday.....probably.....maybe....perhaps...

I want to remember her just like this. Dead.

My son takes after his father, so G-d knows WHAT happened that night!

I am dreading the funeral. No mother likes to bury her child. Not when her favorite St. John suit was destroyed by the careless dry cleaners.

Is there any way you can put her on ice and let us pick this up later? There's a good detective. Say, are you going past the airport?

In my heart, she will always be the little girl before I bleached her hair. Before she stole my man. Harlot -- I mean, heart -- lots of breaking right now, yes?.

Just like her to ruin Christmas.

I just keep telling myself that one day, one day, one day, we will finally be able to laugh about this. Probably, tomorrow.

lol, R40!

Oh Sweet Baby Jesus! Help me, dear Lord Jesus! Are you trying to tell me that I'm going to have to re-write my entire fucking family Christmas newsletter?

Because if you are, let me just tell you that mo-fo train has LEFT the MOTHER-FUCKING STATION. I have already dropped my god dammed family Christmas newsletter off at the printer and Consuela has already addressed 400 envelopes by fucking Mexican hand!

Tell me, Detective..excuse me, it is "Detective" isn't it? Because you are about to "detect" my Louboutin heel up your fat, greasy policeman's asshole if you think I am going to revise or delay MY FAMILY'S MOTHER-FUCKIN CHRISTMAS NEWSLETTER! Do you even have A fucking clue how hard it will be to spin this when Bitsy Montgomery-Thorne sent her family Christmas newsletter out TWO goddamned weeks ago while HER FAMILY vacationed in St. Kitts?

Don't try and grow a brain, detective.

And I do not even want to think about that stain on my carpet...

[post redacted because linking to dailymail.co.uk clearly indicates that the poster is either a troll or an idiot (probably both, honestly.) Our advice is that you just ignore this poster but whatever you do, don't click on any link to this putrid rag.]

Before you go detective, I'd like to give you a token of our appreciation for being so kind and unobservant. Just let me run to the gift closet.

Here you go. Perhaps your daughter would enjoy this.

...and I do so hope I didn't sound too harsh a moment ago, Detective. You know children! They can wear on one, the little scamps...

Oh, dear, this reminds me of the funniest thing that happened at a pageant one time...

Perspective, please. Patsy only killed *one* child.

Enemies? Oh good heavens, where are my manners?

I have not even given you all a tour of the pageant trophy room yet.

Ha, Ha. That is so true R49! (Says the girl who choked in the Interview Competition and went with the "some black dude" excuse.)

Now tell me, Susan. How many pageants did you win?

This is going to to take all day. It's late afternoon and they still haven't found her. John, would you just take the police down to the basement? They're never going to find her on their own.

Jesus H. Christ! I told you we should've left a trail of donuts down to her body....

I let JonBenet go with love. Tough love.

My daughter's timing is once again at fault.

LOL at R43

and, hence

Detective, did you see my new leather attache case?

The pageant world has gotten a bad rap, I'm afraid. It's really more of a family than a competition. There's something for every girl these days.

As I always say, some girls were born to be winners and some girls were born to die in the basement

Why, of course, you may interview me, Detective. I'll just need a couple of hours to do my hair and makeup. Consuela get the lighting crew here ASAP.

Now, detective, don't be using that good Southern charm of yours.

Someone's gotten into my art supplies! This is the Worst. Day. Ever.

Of course, I'll autograph that photo for you. No worries, I have a Sharpie hidden in my blouse here.

You know what you look like to me, with your good bag and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube. A well scrubbed, hustling rube with a little taste. Good nutrition's given you some length of bone, but you're not more than one generation from poor white trash, are you?

Oh Lord Jesus you raised Lazarus from the dead! Why can't you raise my precious baby, too? I bet because Lazarus never went around flashing his no-no at every male in the house!

You all must be absolutely exhausted after looking for my baby for almost the whole time "Joy to the World" played. I think you deserve a coffee cake and canasta break. I'm dealing!

R64 Are you Pedro Almodovar? I didn't know you were fluent in English.

Just because Jon-Benet was my best friend doesn't mean I hurt her. So stop looking at me.

...The Aristocrats!

Do you think you'll be finished up here by seven? The Boulder Mall closes at nine, and you know what they're like the day after Christmas. Luckily I always save the receipts.

Dear Lord, are you implying I've done something criminal? I'll tell you what the crime is here, Detective, your haircut, your breath, and that Goodwill suit you're wearing.

(Not to mention the fact, that you can't see the clues we...um, the killer, I mean, left here in front of your face. Good God, I've seen tranqed-up housewives do a better job at Murder Mystery parties.)

If any of your on the force are unsaved, could you do me the most darling favor? Tell JonBenet she's pretty when you see her. In Hell.

I"ve always thought, after VIP, RIP are the classiest letters after any name.

She had so much ahead of her. Failure, that is.

It's like my dear friend Betty Bowers once said, "Children are like fruit: They are small and tasteless when new -- and should be discarded when they turned rotten."

She was such an attention whore. Do you know, one day she said "Mommy I'm prettier than you. ...Daddy said."

Daddy's little girl, my ass.

Pssssssst, I have Polaroids . . .

She once had the tightest snatch outside of a Cambodian nunnery. But then we had to win the judges at the state level. And keep her father home.

Whatever you find in John's sock drawer, remember that Mike Huckabee will forgive him. Shouldn't we?

I chose the permanent solution for bed wetting.

best

thread

EVER

$118,000? That's an insult! Why, it's no more than my husband's holiday bonus. I bet if the child had won Little Miss Colorado, the kidnappers would be demanding a million or more.

Sharpen than a serpent's tooth is an ungrateful child. Oh, goodness! Now, I've got the giggles. I'm the first person ever to call JonBenet sharp.

You people in the law call it "capital punishment;" I call it a "time out."

Bless your heart officer, I would have changed had my John gotten me a new ensemble for Christmas. I guess that stingy bonus he received, $118,000, was not enough to compel his to go Christmas shopping! I'm not materialist, officer, I wear my clothes to rags, just rags around here because I am not even interested in money. I'm sure you'll want to be going home to open presents with your family and leave us and 20 our closest friends to grieve in our own way.

They [italic]will[/italic] take off her jewelry before cremating her body, won't they? I mean, she's going to end up in a shoebox anyway, and I'd just a soon not have to sift through her adorable ashes to recover perfectly fine diamonds.

Of course, I woke up with a face full of make-up, officier. Who doesn't? Goodness, next you'll be telling me your wife doesn't shave under her arms!

Bump

It's always horrendous when someone you love dies! I'm speculating here. Anyone? Is it true? I'm almost sure it is!

She's dead? This is the WORST news ever. Because it means, now, I'm going to have to sleep with my husband!

Of course, I will tell you everything, Detective. Sit right down here by me. Now let's start with my pageant photo albums, shall we? I like to call this one, "The Story of a Winner".

Listen, honey, I can tell you're having a little trouble following me. I was Miss West Virginia, not the most glamorous state in the union, granted.

But stop and think about how many coal miner's daughters, trailer park ho's, and meth-addicted redneck skanks I had to shank just to get that little sash...got it? Can you picture the pile of white trash bodies I had to climb over? Do you really I'm going to let a bitchy little six-year old get in my way?

Now, let's turn the Christmas music back on. Who would like more tea or coffee?

Oh, goodness! THAT was her name? See? Time heals. Isn't the Lord good to us? Well, me . . .

OK, just one more song and then I need to pick her final outfit. Oh, what am I thinking? We're not going to have an open Hefty bag at the funeral! How about Bill Bailey Won't You Please Come Home. In D!

Oh, Jonbenet! Why? Why? Why? Why did this happen to her? Do you think she knows? Because I sure-as-shootin' do!

Of COURSE I'm telling you the truth. If any word out of my mouth is a lie, may God strike me down with cancer!

As a Christian, I believe in leading by example. So I've already forgiven the woman, ur, person behind this. And I suggest you join me.

Don't worry about the part where it says the child will be beheaded if we phone the police. I'm sure they didn't really mean it.

Well officer, I hope you don't think I had anything to do with this. Garrote, I mean coffee?

Now I remember where JonBenet is! She's staying with my mother in West Virginia. Golly, don't I feel like a silly billy for calling you all. Don't I have egg on my face? Why, it just makes me chuckle -- ur, how do I explain the what? The ransom note? Oh, honey, if you believe that's a REAL ransom note, you're in the wrong business!

LOL, R101...and I believe that's a direct quote...

What little dead girl?

Ok, ok, let's be calm...I'm pretty sure club soda or peroxide will get that blood out.

Oh yes, and JonBenet too...that's so sad.

Well, Officers, mystery solved. I'll walk you all to the door.

I think "dead" is just an ugly word. Let's just say "permanently punished."

Detective, please, for the love of God, why won't you answer my question?

Where there any blood stains on our new white carpeting?

It was after midnight, Detective, when I heard some rustling in the bushes below. I was awakened from the sound sleep of the innocent, in full make-up. I went over to the window, pulled back my Laura Ashley curtains and saw people on the snowy lawn below. John asked me who they were and I told him, "They look like a foreign faction." I then went back to bed. One thing us pageant gals know is this: Nothing is more important than beauty rest!

[quote]I'm pretty sure club soda or peroxide will get that blood out.

LIAR!

Had I been the killer, I'd have gone for the boy. They're so much messier than girls.

It must be so much easier to find the body in poor people's homes, right?

Finding my precious baby is the most important thing in the world to me. As you will discover when you direct your rude questions to my lawyers, for we, sir, are done talking.

Anyone want some fresh pineapple?

See that suspicious-looking couple over there? They live next door and they call themselves our best friends. If I were you, I'd keep a really close eye on those two.

The foreign faction just called again! On the quiet, upstairs phone. JonBenet is, apparently, now in a country without an extradition treaty. We're on our way to save her!

Really, officer, I have my limits.

When my daughter told me about Daddy and a Dirty Sanchez....well, I'm a good Christian woman.

Oh, dear Lord, my baby, my ba - wait, let me try that again. You know, you rehearse and rehearse, but then you get in front of an audience and the inspiration won't come. Okay, I'm ready for take two.

My baby, oh dear Lord, my baby! Please don't tell me my baby's gone!

I know none of you are saying it to protect me, but don't think I don't see the truth about what happened as clear as day! Yes, it's not easy knowing that my only daughter made a paintbrush garotte and kept turning it and turning it until she could turn it no more. Bless her determined little heart. Of course, I'll never be able to show my face at the club when those old hens find out I had a suicide in my Christian home. Thanks, Jonbenet!

No, I am not that girl from Designing Women.

Anyone interested in purchasing an only-worn-once sequined French hooker costume? Size extra-extra small.

Let me answer that rudely inquisitive question with a statement of fact: If the Lord wanted JonBenet alive, she would BE alive. So to treat this like some "crime" is blasphemy. And I won't tolerate blasphemy in my Christian home. So I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask that all of you leave.

Yeah, R120, that sounds like it came directly from the transcript. I can picture her saying that.

JonBenet and my family have consciously uncoupled.

I love op!

Bump

I remember two years ago, JonBenet ran out into traffic. And I thought to myself, "If anything happens to that precious child, I will never be happy again!" I guess we're all wrong sometimes . . .

Why has this happened to ME? Thinks like this NEVER happen to me. For example, I never get the parking spot by the door Neiman's!

The Lord sends sorrow to us to test us, to find out if you can survive something awful, something that hurts your very soul, to make you become stronger. And then, sometimes, like today, He sends strangers to your home to drag slush onto your oriental rugs.

Does anyone happen to know the Little Miss Slutty Sex Kitten pageant's refund policy on contestant deposits? If it's less than 30 days, this will be the worst day ever.

Detective, I wholly agree with you! Something about this whole situation stinks to high Heaven. Have you checked to see if it's coming from the basement?

To be honest, I always thought of her less as a daughter; more as a competitor. And last night was a Final Elimination Round.

In the Miss West Virginia pageant, my talent was a scene from Mr. Euripides' Medea. As I killed my child, the judges were on their feet. But I knew my performance lacked conviction. But, today, this morning, I, finally, understand The Method.

On't-day ell-tay im-hay, ut-bay I ink-thay eye-may usband-hay ay-may ow-knay ore-may an-thay ee's-hay elling-tay.

Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lies.

I mean lives.

My final words to my precious JonBenet: "There's no such thing as bad publicity!"

"Listen, sister . . . "

I'm inconsolable now that ramifications of her death sink in. It's not as if neighbors are going to pay ME $3,000 to play Pop The Cherry!

If it's a female detective,

"Listen, you little slut...."

I see that the night ended as it started: with her on her back.

Christmas comes but once a year, and I expect you to follow its lead - straight out the door. And a Happy 1997 to you all.

I'm trying to put a finger on this. Maybe I'll be as successful as my husband.

No, I can't give you answers. But I can give you autographed pageant head shots. I'll sign them on the Lear back to Atlanta. Toodles!

Were some of you raised in a barn? You never ask a lady her age, weight or if she's killed her daughter!

Oh my dear Lord! She was killed with a paint brush garotte! A camel hair paint brush garotte! I, ur, I would have thought that THEY, that foreign faction, would have used a synthetic brush. I guess that, um, they, yes they, were not thinking, to use such an expensive brush to kill someone so cheap. This loss of such an expensive paintbrush shows how angry I, ur, the killers, must have been with that cun- ur, darling child.

Not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, are you detective?

Do I need to draw you a map? Burke, where did we leave that Sharpie?

Until today, I never even knew Black people lived in Boulder!

The day started oh, so sad -- until I realized that I'm back to being the youngest gal in the house.

This. Never. Happened.

My heart is broken! I mean NAIL. Yep, my nail is split right down to the cuticle. All you men will never know the pain I am feeling right now.

Here is the part I forgot to tell you earlier, detective: I actually met one of the foreign faction early this morning. Someone in front of him was schlepping whatshername down the spiral staircase. I'll tell you, it's not easy to lug a limp corpse down a narrow spiral staircase!

He asked, "Are you the dead chick's sister?"

And I replied, "No, I'm the dead chick's mother."

And he said, " Well, you're just lucky our orders were to kidnap the youngest one, not the prettiest one!"

I blushed and said, "Oh, stop!"

But he didn't. He continued: "No, seriously, White Lady, you are gorgeous. In comparison, JonBenet looks cheap. Very cheap. Your beauty is natural. Classic. She is Anna Nicole Smith -- you are Elizabeth Taylor."

It was then that he thrust the ransom note into my lovely hands, whispering someone wildly obscene, but nonetheless extremely complimentary. And, poof, he was gone. I never even had a chance to thank him for his kind words of unbridled honesty.

Detective, I meant "whispering SOMETHING wildly obscene."

I get so flustered by compliments, not matter how well deserved. But isn't it nice that even someone doing something so evil can still think to say things that really made my day? So thoughtful. Truly, there is a lesson there for all of us.

I'm barely condoning murder, but I think that anyone who has seen "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?" will admit that someone last night did that little lady on the carpet there a big favor. Praise God!

Goodness! Just look at the poor thing. And THIS is why dead people never win beauty pageants!

"Officer, honestly if I could just trade places with my little baby, then in a heartbeat I'd...I'd...well...um...er... [puts up a "hold that thought" finger, takes a sip of Pellegrino, and continues] "well, I'd seriously think long and hard about doing so."

Picking Burke to the one I loved has really proved to have been rather wise, no?

Were are not burying her in THAT! It's French. I can get over $100 for it on eBay.

She may be gone, but at least I will always have fond memories to comfort me. Memories of my glorious pageant days.

You filthy coppers will never Mirandize me! I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of, but I'm damned if I'll dance a Samba with a basket of fruit on my head!

Was I alone with JonBenet in the basement last night? What an excellent question. I guess we'll never know...

Oh THAT little dead girl.

Dead? Don't be silly. She's probably just playing hide and seek in the old refrigerator.

It's not murder if it's self-defense! You have no idea how incredibly strong that little slut can be!

I encourage my children to take responsibility! It's one of JonBenet's "chores" to set the burglar alarm at night. I guess what goes around comes around.

What was that call to the police on Dec. 23? Probably one of the neighbors drunk dialing information. Certainly had nothing to do with us.

I confess, I did it. I'm the one who called 911 on the 23rd. I spilled red wine on a white blouse. How was I to know they don't respond to that kind of emergency?

Remind me to call the judges for the Little Miss Hot Stuff pageant and tell them we're off for that thingy Wednesday night in room 107 at the Naighty Whispers Motor Court.

Well, it's quite obvious in hindsight that I should've taken her threat to hold her breath until she turned blue more seriously.

Detective: What did you just call her?

Patsy: What do you think I just called her?

Detective: I'd rather not say.

Patsy: Well, then I guess we'll never know.

I never said she was perfect. Well, NOW she is...

I woke up this morning and immediately missed the sound of her little voice. But, since then, this fabulous quiet has really grown on me.

Dead? Oh, detective, you must be new to Stepford. Jon Benet will be right as rain once the parts come in.

Spattered blood on my Christmas sweater? Oh no, detective, that's just Rudolph the Red-nosed Elf.

Cheers, sweetie.

John, I sent you down to the wine cellar to get a bottle of chardonnay and this is what you come back with?

Just put her on the floor. We'll deal with this matter after brunch.

So detective, how do you like your eggs?

They say you will never know how this feels until it happens to your own child. I never say no to a challenge.

I am BIG, it's the pageant contestants that got small!

I'm ready for the swimsuit portion of this investigation, Mr. Detective.

Little miss "I can color in the lines!" this, or miss "I used the potty all by myself!" that, isn't so smug now, is she?

I'm sorry, did I just think that, or say it out loud?

No, Burke, we are NOT having a new baby sister for you!

No, you can NOT order a Fleshlight of your own!

May I please have a lock of my baby's hair? My baby's hair color was always the thing I liked best about her.

I can take it the doggy beauty parlor and have them match it for Little Miss Pageant Paws. Then, I can sell it on eBay and pay for a motion to fight at least two depositions.

Step right up! Step right up! Anyone interesting in one last go before they come take her away? I'm a wheelin' and I'm a dealin'! Let me tell you what I'm gonna do!

If you need a pretty girl, Pussy Cow!

Please! For the love of Jesus stop asking me about my daughter! I've always believed: If you can't say something nice . . . Yes, that's just the type of Christian I am!

As I told the judges when I won the Miss West Virginia, my goals in life are World Peace, to end World Hunger, and to bring the Good News of Jesus Christ to all the heathens of the world.

(And no bitchy little six-year old whore is going to stop me now. Praise Jesus!)

I look at my precious baby's limp limbs and cry. I spent $457 last month on tap lessons!

Well of course the kitchen flashlight has been wiped clean of fingerprints. I wash it every night, who doesn't?

Why do you sound so surprised? Yes, every morning the first thing I do, before I brush my teeth, is wipe down the basement walls and banister with undiluted Clorox. After all, cleanliness is next to godliness. No! Really, right there? Goodness me, I'm surprised I didn't trip over the -- her!

Well, *I* would never let her be killed in that outfit!

Officer, I AM listening to your questions, but it's impossible to devote much attention to you while I'm busy with the more important business at hand -- scrapbooking JonBenet's demise.

Good golly, it was -- I mean, it IMAGINE it was -- no picnic getting someone wearing a pageant crown down that tight, spiral staircase!

I know what you're thinking, Detective. I can see your eyes full of booze judging me. You're thinking about what that English homo said: "To lose one child, may be regarded as a misfortune. To lose both looks like carelessness." Burke!

Detective, how dare you? HOW DARE YOU? My husband is a fine Southern gentleman who was raised right. He NEVER lies.

Well, except for that time he told JonBenet, "I won't cum in your mouth." But, honestly, that was barely more than one, little time. Hardly bears mentioning. Now, I think you owe John an apology, Mister.

Pineapple? Why JonBenet didn't even like Pineapple. She used to say nobody could even force her to eat it. A six year old! Can you believe it?

If only the Lord Jesus had told me last night was going to be her last. I'd of fixed her her favorite homemade meal -- Stouffer's lasagna.

A lovely, last meal, just like they do for the other criminals who are about to die because they were caught doing something wicked, terribly, terribly, wicked and depraved.

There was a whole pineapple in her intestines? Well, if you knew my daughter, you'd know that that is probably, not because she ate a pineapple, but because sat on one.

If hell exists, I'm probably going there for laughing at almost every post. This, the best JBR thread in ages!

It's Downy! Well, duh. Of course, I washed her darling murdered sailor suit after she passed! How could I ever slip something with that much blood on it over THIS hair? EVIDENCE? John, get me that sailor suit! I'll show you EVIDENCE! Evidence that we are still the same size!

Ten minutes everyone! I'm just going to run upstairs, slip on my Uncle Sam leotard and backcomb my hair. Ten minutes 'til show time! Step right up, and forget all this dreariness, and join me in the Pageant Trophy Room to see George M. Cohen's "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy" and see who was always the REAL star in this house!

Well, looking on the bright side . . . you can't slut-shame the dead. So this worked out well for her.

Look, I'm going to tell you something I've never admitted to anyone. JonBenet was never going to be a Winner in the Pageant World...she just didn't have the...I don't know what to call it...the...

Killer instinct?

That's it...thank you for being so understanding, Detective. May I call you Detective (batting eyelashes)?

A practice version of the ransom note was found in my wastebasket? Well, I have to hand it to the kidnappers. The idea that practice makes perfect is one thing I never could pound into that child's head!

There was this one time, JonBenet actually lost a pageant and while I was beating...I mean, um scolding her on her lackluster performance, she had the nerve to say to me, "But Mommy, I got first-place runner up."

Yeah, First Place Loser. Sometimes I just didn't even think she was my child.

Oh Detective, to think that those tiny little feet will never tap to "Boom Boom Boom Let's Go Back To My Room" again!

The "Dead Girls Don't Lie" throw pillows? Yes, I needle-pointed all of them. Thank you for noticing.

I guess this means I'm going to have to HIRE someone to scrub the toilets and change my pad.

[quote]George M. Cohen's

Oy, gevalt.

Humorless R204 has wandered onto the wrong thread. Scat!

JonBenet? JonBenet? Can you hear me? It's your mother, former Miss West Virginia! What? No, officer, I'm not calling down to the basement. I'm calling down to HELL!

You see, in the big beauty pageant of life there are winners, like me, and there are losers.

And I suppose, the um....kidnappers...realized that JonBenet just didn't have what it takes.

Now, who has seen the Pageant Room. My goodness, there are so many of you coming and going, I can hardly keep track. Well, anyway, follow me.

You know, Detective, as a matter of fact, I can still fit in my Miss West Virginia Evening Gown. Give me just a minute and I'll slip into it and show you.

Did anyone bring a harmonica? I feel a song comin' on!

Let me hold my baby! Let me hold my baby! Arrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Goodness, the eviden-- I mean, my baby, is now absolutely COVERED in my hair, fabric fibers and DNA!

Anyone have a lint brush?

Gosh, that's right. It slipped my mind that the kidnappers were supposed to call us an hour ago. You'd think I'd have been counting the minutes. Boy time sure flies when you're having fu -far too many people tracking dirt on your carpets.

Will ya get a look at that Cecil rug! I'm not mad at you JonBenet, I'm mad at the FUCKING BLOOD!

Just looking at my precious baby, lifeless and so forlorn, on that carpet, I can't help but think, "With all the money I'll save on hair color and a Sweet 16 boobjob, I can afford to go hardwoods throughout the house!" What do you think, Detective? Oak or mahogany? I can tell by the way you fill that fine wool suit, you're a man of good taste . . .

Did you know that some people thought we were sisters? True story.

Detective, can you even begin to imagine what it's like to live under the same roof with your hubby's little pint-size mistress? Mister, it's no day at Rodeo!

OK, before everyone gets crazy here with your pestering questions, John and I need to do something very important: Figure out which of those Christmas gifts under the tree we can still return. JOHN!

Of course, the most important thing to me right now is to make sure my precious angel's very precise wishes for her funeral are followed to the T. She wanted me to perform one -- no! two! -- pieces. One dramatic, and one comedy. I think I'll do something from "Crimes of the Heart" and "Steel Magnolias," those are my -- HER! -- very favorite works of important theater, but I haven't decided which for which! Then, she wanted me to do Dixie Carter's version of Billy Bailey Won't You Please Come Home? Then, her final wish is to be buried in a shallow grave in the municipal dog park. I need to start thinking costumes!

Is "Touched by an Angel" a rerun tonight? Detective, do you know? Nothing keeps me from watching that show. It's so precious, it makes me cry. I'm just a sentimental sap, I guess. Can't wait!

I want to make a donation to a charity, a charity that honors her legacy, and in her name so that no one, ever, ever, will forget my baby. Detective, is there, like, a "Homeless Shelter for Saucy Sluts Who Always, Always ALWAYS Need to Be The Center of Attention" downtown? Do the Coloreds have anything like that?

I'm afraid to raise the subject, but I must: is the carpet she's lying on salvageable? Or was there a lot of leakage?

Oh, you from the newspaper! Don't forget to note that I've already open a Murder Site Gift Shoppe. Some "the grass doesn't grow under winners" language might be appropriate. I just worry about keeping enough paintbrushes in stock. I've always hated disappointing people.

I'll never forgive that child for doing this to me. Suicide is such a selfish act.

"Can I roller skate?"

Who wants to double my $1,000 bet that the Foreign Faction never calls? Put your cash of the table!

Wow, this is getting boring, all this waiting!

Let's play a game of "Fuck, Marry, Kill!" Miss Tennessee 1977 -- Miss Kentucky 1977 -- and JonBenet!

John and I will sit this round out, as we already know one response for each.

Honestly, I've never seen her look so peaceful. I think whoever did this deserves the coral St. John's suit in the right window at Neiman Marcus when you are coming in from the mall at Lenox Square when you get back to Atlanta, John. Just thinkin' out loud . . .

I just keep staring at that pool of dried blood. What color is that? Brick? Cerise? It would make a FABULOUS lipstick!

JonBenet is no longer with us. But if the next time some pint-size harlot offers her no-no to a much older gentleman who is her father and happily married to a fabulously beautiful wife and gets slapped across her saucy little harlot face with a flashlight, then she will not have died in vain. Amen. Everyone? Did you not hear me? Can I get a friggin' AMEN here?

I'd kill for a pina colada. Or anything, really.

Whew, I don't know about you all but I am EXHAUSTED! Staying up all night, dealing with little Miss "I Don't Have to Listen to Mommy"...er, um, I mean, worrying about our poor little JonBenet.

Well, anyhoo, I'm going to our third floor Master Suite to take a nap and I do NOT want to be disturbed.

(John, call the Coroner again and see if you get them over here to clean up this...mess. I just know I won't be able to enjoy my dinner if all of this is not out of here by the time I come back down.)

Really? "Marry, Fuck or Kill" is just a game? Not in our house!

Finally! I have a spare bedroom I can turn into a gift-wrapping salon. I'm so much like Candy Spelling. And, no doubt, when she looks at Tori, she wishes she were more like me!

It's so sad to lose a child. It's almost worse than losing the back to one of your earrings.

See if you can shut up little Burke's caterwauling, or I promise you you'll have to come back here a second time today.

John, I want to name something after our baby! So that we will be reminded of her every day she is in Hel-ven. From now on, let's call that commode "the Jon....Benet." So you can still piss in her mouth.

If that's that Jared guy from the Subway ads on the phone, tell him I have that "pecial-say equest-ray," but to call back omorrow-tay.

Don't none of y'all call the media till I've had time to freshen up and pick out a tasteful outfit. Which do you think I should wear, detective? The gray is more dignified but the dusty lilac will probably read better on camera.

OK, nobody grieve until I find my earrings!

Would you believe that I planned to overdose on percocet and gin about an hour from now? Once again I am upstaged by that relentless, pint-sized attention whore!

R236 That's nasty, but very funny

Oh, goodness! She's going to have to do one, final costume change. Something sleeveless! Yes, I know it's cold outside, but it's not cold where she's going. Rosarita, fetch the lime sherbert tube top!

John you know how I hate waste. Take that rope off of her. We'll need it to tie up the Christmas tree before we take it to the curb before we leave town.

Goodness, who needs an investigation? This is, clearly, an open-and-shut case: Death by autoerotic asphyxiation!

She may have been a little lady under the stage lights -- but she was into some freaky scenes under the sheets! Wasn't she, John?

The little bitch wouldn't stop texting during Evita!

Detective, you say "dead," I say "sleeping deeply." Can we just agree to disagree?

Detective, I need to skedaddle, but one day, very, very soon, John and I will sit down with you, have a lovely, long talk and explain everything.

I KID!

Bye!

I don't know what type of slipshod mothering you had, but in the Ramsey manse, talking back to your mother IS "natural causes."

Rosarita, come down here and get JonBenet in something beige, pronto! If I told her once, I told her a million times: Red is MY color!

Bump to conjure up genius who's been writing all these brilliant posts If your not a professional writer,you should be.I'm impressed.

Consuelo, I'm thinking the black Manolo sling-back pumps, with the black Chanel suit for the funeral, and the black kidskin leather gloves....

Oh no, Detective, "kidskin" is just a type of leather! I would never "skin" a child...not even a little blonde whore with a bad case of sass-mouth who was always "accidentally" showing off her hoo-haw.

As a Republican patriot, I am, of course, going to use that famous Nathan Hale quotation to end my routine during the talent portion of the funeral: "I only regret that I have but one daughter to lose for my country!" Cue the red, white and blue doves and fireworks. Dry eyes? I don't think so! They'll hear the ovation all the way to the trashy part of Colorado Springs!

Oh, John, stop crying! If we drape her over a barrel, she can still play Naked Twister with you.

More Please...

She was such a perfectionist! The rest of us headed to bed, but she insisted on going down to the basement to practice for the talent portion of the Little Miss Houdini Pageant.

In watching Dance Moms and got to wondering how Mrs Patsy Ramsey,formerly of Boulder Colorado may have acted on this show. I imagine the ratings would be higher. Oh,and Abby would be dead.

Mommy and that Rosie lady always said that 'liars get cancer'.

Bump

"PINEAPPLE? When did she eat PINEAPPLE?"

Will we still be able to flight to the lake?

"...to catch our flight...."

Sheesh.

"One day, we're all going to laugh about this . . . Oh, I've never been good at waiting!"

"Detective, please disregard my loose-lipped help and the busybody who called 911 from our communal -- COMMUNAL! -- dressing room at the Miss Snowflake Pageant. Their false-witness and hospital gossip notwithstanding, I LOVED JonBenet! I loved her like a sister. But only because that's the way we looked."

"Coroner: Don't forget to note in the autopsy that she died in my gown. We wear the same size. Only, in her case, especially now, with less aplomb. In fact, Consuela! Get that wrap dress off her and let me show the handsome detective how it's SUPPOSED to be worn! "

"Goodness, why didn't someone TELL me my baby was lying on the floor right in front of me? I never would have walked over her face. At least, not THAT many times!"

"A child is a gift from God. Last night, I regifted her back."

"I pray that I will draw comfort from knowing that the last time we spoke it was about our Lord Jesus Christ. As I recall, I said, 'Jesus died for your sins and it's high time, Little Missy, that you returned the favor!'"

"Someone be a dear and call Star Search. The sister act is now a solo."

Anyone know how to get dried blood out of a Mason Pearson hairbrush?

"How sad, to die without winning a pageant title that matters. I am, of course, speculating . . . "

"Detective, I'm afraid it feels odd to be judged on the quality of my answers to questions without wearing a sash. I'll go get it! See, how anything can be turned into a moment of fun?"

"No, I have no idea who wrote 'Bibighar' in blood on her bedroom mirror, Detective. But sh . . . ur, THEY have lovely penmanship, wouldn't you agree? Just lovely. A real sign of class that is, I always say. So did mother."

A garrote? My, that seems excessive. I always found a quick sharp blow to the head with a pageant baton to be more than sufficient to get her to shut the hell up.

"Yes, I'm sure that's all very interesting, Detective, but you all are going to have to excuse me. I need to call the Little Miss Daffodil pageant and tell them my baby's talent today will no longer be tapping the fifty state capitals. It's going to be a fabulous Abraham Lincoln lying in state impression. Consuela! Fetch me my Mary Todd Lincoln mini-dress and gogo boots! AN-DAY-LAY!"

"Sugar or Splenda??? I've told you a MILLION times: I'm not answering your nosy questions without a lawyer and publicist!"

LoL..Glad I bumped.Genius at work!

"What a rude thing to suggest! Officer, if anything I've said to you this morning is in the slightest way misleading, may the good Lord Jesus Christ strike me with cancer."

"I've always lived in fear of losing someone I loved. I still do. I can only imagine that it must be quite terrible."

You know, detective, I think I can help you out here if you'll just listen to me for a few minutes.

Earlier, today I was talking with our professional PR consultant (I know, weird that he happened to call me at 5:30 this morning but anyhoo), and he said to me, "You know, Patsy, it's all about 'optics' or how a thing looks that's important - the perception is critical - things have to be presented in the proper perspective."

Now in this case, if we could frame this whole messy business as "Mrs. Patsy Ramsey, former Miss West Virginia suffers tragic loss as her daughter commits suicide at family home, or dies from unknown causes, blah, blah, blah; no foul play suspected." Do.you understand what I'm saying - something along those lines. I think that would just put this whole ugly business in the proper perspective and give us the right "optics" to go forward with a clear, unified message.

Now wouldn't you agree that just makes sense, detective?

Then a little later, we could release the details about poor Jon Benet's lack of discipline, her out-of-control eating disorder, her refusal to practice and do the work required of a beauty queen, just her overall lack of commitment to the important things in life - all led to her disappointments in the beauty pageant circuit and life in general. The poor thing just kept gaining weight, losing more pageants, getting depressed - and it all spiraled out of control until she ended up on my berber carpet in the basement. (Aside to Consuela - get down there and start working on those stains - how many times do I have to tell you that you can't let carpet stains get set in!)

Anyhoo, I think that would just make a clear and compelling story that people would just naturally understand. And we wouldn't have to get into all of those messy, sensational details about how she got the garrote around her own neck and choked herself to death. So it's really up to us to manage this whole business correctly. Life is just hard for the losers, don't you agree, detective?

Oh Lord, detective, I'm sorry to get emotional. I was just thinking back to the first time I saw Jon Benet lumbering around on the stage like a wounded elephant, trying to do just one of the most basic tap dance routines from "Singing in the Rain" when she was about 3 or 4.

And it was so clear she just didn't have IT - you know, that drive, that X-factor that sets winners apart from losers. Hearing all those other mothers whispering and laughing at my child who should've had that routine in her DNA. Oh, the shame and the heartbreak - now that was a tragedy!

Yes, it's times like those that really help me to put the little things in the proper perspective.

"Now, you're just putting words in my beautiful mouth, Detective. I never said I didn't KNOW the alleged victim. I just said I make it a point not to socialize with the the type of unsaved garbage that sleeps with a Christian woman's husband."

"From your experience, Detective, is murder something one can do occasionally -- or does the thrill become habit forming? I'm asking for a friend."

[quote] never said I didn't KNOW the alleged victim. I just said I make it a point not to socialize with the the type of unsaved garbage that sleeps with a Christian woman's husband."

Is this a line from something, because it's fabulous.

Did she ever do ballet? Oh, my Gawd, Detective, you are delightful!

Please, just let me catch my breath...I must be hysterical to be laughing so hard at a time like this.

I've seen Clydesdales dance with more grace than that little skank...uh, little tyke, I mean...

[quote]Is this a line from something?

R283 It is original to this thread.

"The only comfort I can find this morning is in the Lord. His eye is on the sparrow . . . so I know He sees the torment an otherwise patient mother endures at the hands of a selfish, goading child."

She pulled out all stops to delay the inevitable.

Bump

She's on her way back and has a lot to say.

" Can you believe that ungrateful, little bottle blonde didn't want to wear this beautiful matching sweater I had made for her"?

classic thread

I'm going straight to hell for laughing at these...they're frinking brilliant.

That little bitch called me "fat"....

I mean, my precious little darling Jon-Benet!

I'll see you there, R292!

Well there goes the $1200 I spent on a Maribou bed jacket, bmnoteaded teddy and matching fishnets and heels at mr. Faye's pageant frock shop. She was going to perform "nasty girl " at the little Miss erotica pageant next month.

Speaking of which, detective do YOU have 7 inches or more?

"Beaded teddy"

One of my all-time favorite DL threads. Like the Golden Age of DL.

Well, since you asked detective, no I was not one of her FANS!

Larry King: Tonight a Larry KIng Live exclusive. Lisa Bonet speaks out on the brutal murder of her sister JonBonet by her real life tv dad bill huxtable!

She's six years old, blonde hair. A natural blonde too. I would NEVER dye my child's hair... natural blondes can have brown roots right?

"I always said she'd make a beautiful corpse. So glad I never put any money on it!"

Well I guess we know who's NOT going as baby New Years!

Officer, remind the coroner put on his reading glasses when he goes through baby's no-no.

John's missing his wedding ring.

Again.

"Not a day will go by when I don't think of her. Every time I have a number two."

[quote]No one grieves until I find my earrings.

My favorite DL quip ever.

"Pineapple princess", he calls me pineapple princess all day As he plays his ukulele on the hill above the bay "Pineapple princess, I love you, you're the sweetest girl I've seen" "Some day we're gonna marry and you'll be my pineapple queen"

WELL I PUT A STOP TO THAT BULLSHIT!

Burke stop dialing that phone with a pencil and get yourself an alibi.

You have no right to search my basement

BUMP—as JøñBéñèt is dragged down the stairs.

Okay, who was the sweetest little murder victim in Boulder?

JonBeignet Ramsey.

Detective, stop yapping, grow a brain and, hence, figure out who wrote that horrible ransom note!

[quote]No one grieves until I find my earrings.

OMG. I had forgotten that quip.

BURKE! This is no way to draw attention to YOURSELF!

R297 It is a good one :)

Foreign FACTION??!! Oh detective the only foreign faction around here is my Mexican house cleaner, the lawn guys from El Salvador and the cute oriental woman who sewed her costumes. Which reminds me I need to give her a call since junior Miss homewrecker doesn’t need the chiffon anymore I can make a gorgeous bed jacket!

R177 They didn't have fleshlights in the 90s, did they?

I thought we couldn’t reply to threads from pre-2020.

R27 You always have to be a contrarian, don't you?

Only the good die young? I think we finally put that myth to bed!

"I don't know her!"

"Well, we all gotta go sometime... Can I get anyone a cup of coffee? ... I have Starbucks on speed dial."

"I only want to talk about the nice things!"

"Well the little bitch did use wire hangers, after I told her not to!"

R316 you can on this one. carpe diem.

"You hear on the news what a dangerous life these poor fallen souls lead. But you never expect to actually have a dead whore in your basement."

never told JonBenet that life is fair.

This thread is why I keep coming back to this shite hole of a site. You can make this wit up.

bump

Bump

I've never believed the Ramsey's killed their daughter or Burke either. I watched one of her police interviews and she was adamant that they get off their asses and find the killer before they do this again. The cops really were incompetent. She died never knowing what happened or how it happened and knowing people blamed them.