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It looks to me like he's wearing an orange vest. Are you not a Syracuse fan??????
 
Where is Keith's alcohol to go with his cigarette? - Dom Cruz
 
It the old days, I feel I shed my antlers, seasonally, or sometimes in a violent battle, but more or less on pattern. I'm not sure that the actual act was ever caught on camera, I'd have to do some thinking, digging around, make some old phone calls. These days, the all or nothing days, seems I'm shedding antlers like they're going out of style, it feels like once a week. Rarely is the conversational heat such that I close the eyes and shake the head as in the old days, with a vehemence that someone in the third tier gets impaled. But, also, the reaction is still very much the same. It can take months to build up your bones denisity here last for years, other times, the felt doesn't even get dewy or the spikes sharped, what is in front of you needs to be skewered, you can be locked in a death battle, there's footage and I've ran across dead adversaries, horns locked. Tried to free one way back with a friend, who knows how long that victory took or what it tasted like, through considerable effort managed to unlock the situation. They were fairly young, but the exhaustion and whatever the time period it lasted. The victor made partway through the woods and had to be put down.
 
And just because you're rubbing something doesn't mean there's a djinni it.
 
If you rub anything the right way, there should be a stir out on the horizon, something bubbles with proper rubbing.

This forum smells like French mustard but at a distance, and old world tallow candles that burn forever in their own waxy puddles.

So wearing a vest makes you trans? Or is it the color? Try harder man.
There are definite variables, and maybe even some underlying goof codes to wearing vests. I wore vests back in the day, not so much these days, there are some laying around. It's like anything else, trans/ the gay community does seem to dig the vest, but I don't know that it's a full-fledged take over of the imagine. The right guy in the right vest, not a second thought, the wrong guy in the wrong vest, can tend to fall into that "one bad apple spoils shit for the rest of us."
I have worn a bunch of vests, not so much these day. 70s was all vests, both sexes, no stigma. I wore an orange vest on weekend for a few years with some buddies, not our club colors, but bright orange so you don't get hit by traffic cleaning shit off the side of the road on your weeks, for dropping your antlers when you shouldn't.
 


Now there's what could qualify as a vest, and it's a good song, hard not to like the John Denver, for me anyway. I'm a country boy too, technically, Born and raised in the sticks, and while I have the same claim, and, while I can enjoy the music, the tunes are alright,the Richie Cunningham angle, just wasn't the same thing, I'm sure we could do a cup of coffee if it ever lined up, and he did some hidden good shit, you find out later, a good, vest-wearing guy, not signature-wise, there were a lot of vests in the 70s and early 80s.
 
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The orange vests for problem kids in high school were like the prison shit, fairly sturdy but very few amenities, and even though you might be wearing that vest for a number of weekends, it's not yours, you don't get to take it home, you get a another random one in roughly your size each go. But if you're a slight recidivist, and you're friends with any girls at all, you can get those little hook/clasps on the back of cheap picture frame from anyone who works in any of the offices, and snag 'em on the inside of the vest to a folded empty wonder bread wrapper, that would hold a pint of Kahlua and coffee on each side. End of the run, fold the shit up put in the back pocket, serving the community. I have great pictures and stories of these days., cheersing with warm drinks like a hobo pit on the side of the road in the winter. Sometimes, the route went by my place, or one other friend, and we had a twenty minute break. Beers and sandwiches, mouth wash, resupply the Kahlua bags. Vests.
 
I hate Duran Duran, and the super clever name origin, ten tears below Verook Assault
 
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