Look, I don't want to get all uppity, but.
In the mail room of my building, there is always a stack of Beverly Hills 213 magazines, apparently distributed for free in this area. I never take one upstairs to read it, but the coverlines are always maddeningly sycophantic and lame. I give you this:
"Drew Lachey: Great Talent, Great Father"
I mean really. Really.
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