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You raise them half-decent, and they grow up and leave. They move to Miami or California– someplace with gourmet groceries and nude beaches because you’ve reared them to cook good and be liberal minded. It’s just the opposite with your failures– them kids stick to your tail like a cocklebur. You’d think it would be the other way around, but it’s not. No matter how old I get, this will always amaze me.
