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Wow.
I can barely speak or think clearly, yet the Ball family is doing great--meaning we're feeding regularly, have washed asses, and avoid wearing soiled garments. Yet, beyond those simple pleasures is a joy I can't describe, other than perhaps with a high-pitched, elongated vowel sound, such as aiyeeuuuiieieiiiiiiiiiioooiiiiiiiieeaaau. And if you imagine me making that sound while jumping up and down delightedly on your hypothalamus, and tickling the inside of your skull with a happy feather as you ate ice cream on a hot summer's day, and simultaneously walked a tightrope strung between two giant obelisks made from the wealth of human understanding, well, that may somewhat approach how I feel.
Thanks, sincerely, everyone, for the well wishes, the flowers, the many gifts, and the barbecued beef burritos from that place in the West Village.
John Jr. still has huge testicles.
All is well.
As ever,
The Ball Family
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