Amateur pot enthusiast Maureen Dowd has penned what is likely the silliest thing published this year by the New York Times, which is saying quite a lot considering the Murderers' Row of "experts" currently in the employ of the Grey Lady.

Dowd probably planned earlier this week to write about the supposed foreign policy-related rift between former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and the White House.

However, prior to her article being published, noted comedian and actor Robin Williams died, a tragedy that took the nation by shock.

What was Dowd to do? Should she write about Williams or should she stick to the plan and write about Clinton?

Let's start at the beginning:

“I talked to Robin Williams once, about breasts,” the article begins. “In 1993, when he played a prim British nanny in 'Mrs. Doubtfire,' I went to interview him at his Pacific Heights house.”

Oh, do tell.

“He was 42 then, wearing his Popeye outfit, a blue-striped T-shirt and black baggy jeans. Surrounded by kids, a rabbit and an iguana, we talked about everything from John Belushi to his father, a stern Ford Motor Company executive,” she continued.

And it goes on like this for quite some time: “As our interview ended, I was telling him about my friend Michael Kelly’s idea for a 1-900 number, not one to call Asian beauties or Swedish babes, but where you’d have an amorous chat with a repressed Irish woman.”

Where are you going with this, Dowd?

“Williams delightedly riffed on the caricature, playing the role of an older Irish woman answering the sex line in a brusque brogue,” the column goes on, rambling incoherently.

“I couldn’t wait to play the tape for Kelly, who doubled over in laughter,” she added adding the most painful transition in the history of op-eds: “So when I think of Williams, I think of Kelly. And when I think of Kelly, I think of Hillary, because Michael was the first American reporter to die in the Iraq invasion, and Hillary Clinton was one of the 29 Democratic senators who voted to authorize that baloney war.”

Holy Moses, that is just awful.

Does the New York Times even edit her column anymore? How did this get past the front desk? Free association is fun and all, but this sort of thing should probably stay in the head shrink’s office.

Let’s see: Robin … Robin Williams. Robin begins with “R,” which comes in the alphabet before “T” and that rhymes with “P” and that stands for “pool”!

Hey, that was fun.