Originally Posted By: RowVsWade
In days past Danny, after your initial evals at Quiet Acres sanitarium a big strapping man like myself would grab your pencil neck and escort you to your assigned highchair where you'd sit all day drooling until you were medicated to sleep. Today little fu.cks like you get to play on the Internet all day and still collect a measly paycheck. Think of it as welfare for the retarded.



Sure thing, pawn shop. At least I don't make a living peddling stolen property to other dirtheads. Do you have any good deals on a catalytic converter?
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She was standin' alone over by the juke box, like she'd something to sell.
I said "baby, what's the goin' price?" She told me to go to hell.

Bon Scott - Shot Down in Flames