OK, so I fathered a love child with my maid. People make mistakes. Now, can you please respect my privacy? Of course, what I’ve done is inexcusable and reprehensible, I’ve hurt my wife and family deeply and forever, and I deserve the harshest judgment. Can we please move on? I mean, it’s not like I’m the first man of influence to sire an offspring with the help. Jefferson, anyone? And I have to say, for a love-child-fatherer, I’ve been pretty responsible about it. This kid -- I’ve never met him by the way -- already has a free scholarship to Wesleyan. He can take it or leave it, I don’t care. The little rascal can grow up to be a Nobel Prize-winner, have an indie band, open an antique shop, whatever --
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CASUAL PIMPIN': TWELVE TIGHT TUNES
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