Fortune favours the bald

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It takes a lot of intestinal fortitude to get your get on and take that first floppy step up the stairs and out into the sun. And then you start sweating, ’cause it ain’t the dry heat, you dig? But damn if you don’t smooth those lubricious eyebrows and tighten them whities and slob that turd-filled dufflebag you call an ass down the macadam and up the hill. And sure, maybe the whole time you’re thinkin’, “Why me? Why not some other stink-eyed swamp monster squishing their way through the grind? C’mon!” Well chum, I’m hear to tell you that there is no one more qualified and dignified and awesomified to climb up and strap themselves into that short-bus-of-a rocketship and blast-off into the cosmos and haul those cute little, wide-eyed wonders to that special planetoid in the sky! SO GET YOUR FINGER OUT!

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