I have a rather embarrassing secret that I just can't hold in any longer. It came up during regression therapy the other day. It seems that, back in 1966 or 1967, I was hitchhiking back from Chicago. Hillary Clinton stopped to pick me up, and, well she wasn't Clinton then, but I'll never forget that face. She, at one point... Oh, it's so hard for me to talk about this but I'll try. I got in the car, and she... I'm sorry, I'll try again. My therapist told me that it was important that I get this out. I thought she was just going to give me a ride but she reached over and... and she... Damn it, I'll just come out and say it. She touched me inappropriately, and now I'm ruined for the rest of my life. I was fourteen or fifteen and she was an old lady in her twenties. It was awful. I still have nightmares sometimes. I think I'll call the New York Times and see if they want to buy my story.