Things Pam has told us she has, none of which included a son:
A five-story home, sleeping fifty
A Glock
A fake Coach purse
A dead black cat
A bald, alcoholic, wife-beating husband
A dead, foul-mouthed mother-in-law
A young, black student who wants to be her slave
A powerful lust for a cruise ship cabin boy
A daughter who escaped her clutches on her eighteenth birthday ("she looks at me as if she wishes I were dead")
The same daughter becoming a straight-A college student, or a nurse, or an engineer, or joined the Army, or married to a Filipino, or maybe all that
A near-death experience at the laundry mat
Siblings who are hopeless deadbeats
A principal who's a hateful, meddling micromanager
A homeless wino living in her basement
A broken foot that doctors won't take seriously
Plans to buy a new car for the daughter who moved out
World-class belching skill
A yard sale to pay off high-interest credit card, right after bragging about being debt-free
Lots of money, but just gave up the Y, broadband, premium cable, and air conditioning
Then, of course, there's the chronic gut rot, the claim of excellence in her academic career, her primitive English skills, the loss of her teaching job, and reassignment to an "alternate" school for young felons.
But never, ever, even a single mention of a son.
It would be great if Pam returned to the DUmp full-time to take some of the burden off nadin.