I've been bombarding Papa Bill with emails about what he'll need to know for his upcoming trip to New York, which he hasn't planned, but I'm speaking about as if it's definitely going to happen. It's a psychological trick I picked up. The latest was about how he needs to learn to read the subway map, or he'll get lost and end up in the Bronx, where he'll be immediately forced to join a gang. He wrote back with some ideas for his rapper name. They are:

Papa B
B Papa Diddy
Lil' Papa B
Fitty Cent Bapa

Between things like that and what a serious grump he is in the morning time, I sometimes wonder if he is actually my biological father.