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A fat man in a floppy hat piled out of a dusty sedan at the White House door last week, shook hands with the doorman, stopped to gab a while with the President's personal secretary and ambled in to see the boss. Harry Truman exclaimed, "Well, look who's back," and jumped up to pump the fat man's hand.
How was he? He was fine, down to 198 lbs.; the neuritis was gone; and how was the boss? The President told him how he was (fine) and how things were going (not so...
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