When are you gonna give me a baby?

Lex, it's not every mad-scientist dad that can pull off what you pulled off.  I've got to hand it to you.  You hold all four aces.  Nobody wants to touch you.  Except me.  I just don't give a jolly gosh darn.

Now I know the secret of your success, because I remember what you told me over twenty years ago: "Using a condom is like talking a shower in a raincoat."  Back then I thought, "To each is own."  

But today, as I reminisce about the past twenty years, I'm beginning to wonder if you ever met an ovum you didn't want to fertilize, and I just don't mean you cloning yourself the good old fashion method of being a true Don Juan.  I'm also talking about sperm donation and in vitro fertilization.  And it's not that you can't take care of them all, you big rich son of a bitch you, because no matter how many young-uns you've produced, I know you have the resources to keep track of each and every one of them.

"When are you gonna give me a baby?  When are you gonna give me a baby?"  

I remote-viewed some naked chick with really nice tits saying that back in 2002.  When it happened, I couldn't for the life of me understand where it was coming from or why it was even happening.  But now I know: you were thinking about me for an instant and I remote-viewed that scene.  Aww, Lex .  I think about you too.

So how many progeny do you have out there?  Enough to fill the roster of a Major League Baseball team with enough folks left over for coach, assistant coaches, GM, scouts, front office people, upper management, sales and the farm club?  Heck, you could even make The Newspaper Man your VP.  You remember Newspaper Man, don't you? The guy who looks like you only ten times twitcher.

And had the same name as you.