“Well, stand guard by his rump and await it in his droppings.”

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Pray, who be this Tracy Jordan thou speakest of?

President Jefferson, we got a problem.

- Speakest. - That horse ate your wig.

Well, stand guard by his rump and await it in his droppings.

Or we could probably just go get a new wig.

Aha, I like you, young man. You shall run my university.

Yeah, yeah. No, it's very nice.

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