Can't stand the hand which stands as it lands, right in front of you and you said, "I'll take two." You're through with that sorry betting five cards which you regard as a righteous gamble to ramble from your own mouth. The south is fucked, pickled and made into hog-head cheese, better known as souse. I'm not a mouse but a human. Will we ever fuckin comprehend?
(Peace! More to come...)
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