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Man of iron.


Barron von Hammer

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There comes a time in every man’s life when you are required to bravely stand and man the hell up. A time when you need to stand resolutely and stare into the yawning abyss of fear itself and silently proclaim “is that all you got?” And after asking this question, when darkness descends and the urge to surrender to spasmodic, urine-inducing fear is greatest, you must declare to the universe “Damn the heliocentric model of the solar system, the galaxies do in fact revolve around my gargantuan titanium balls.”

For me, that moment arrived today when I discovered that there was a large spider in my hat while in line at the “12 items or less” cashier lane at New Seasons market.

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