And don’t forget, Freddie lost his bbq spot and had to go into floristry because of some bullshit with Frank. So, you got to be president, I loss my livelihood, trade and independence, and now, you want me to come dance on my own grave by cooking you ribs in THE FUCKING WHITE HOUSE? That’s the thing about Frank, for all his pretensions, I think, not too deep down, he’s a very typical White southerner. Freddie is supposed to be so happy to be coming up to massah house, that he doesn’t notice he has to go in the back door.