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After years of dithering over whether or not I could responsibly wield the power the Three Wolf Moon Shirt passes on to its wearer, I marched down to Kmart and purchased one.

I must say, as I pulled the tee over my head, I could feel it molding itself to my body and interfacing with my nervous system, redirecting the flow of impulses through my neurons. My IQ automatically doubled. Muscle mass increased.

Friends and family have a hard time believing I never had a Three Wolf Moon Shirt before. In fact, all their memories of me, back to infancy, now include me wearing a Three Wolf Moon Shirt. Did the shirt alter time, or memories? Who knows, but I find pre-Three Wolf Moon Shirt Captain Worley become a distant memory.
nope. you just called RG a dumbass and CW got purged from the system. You are in the process of re-establishing yourself.

 
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Old Captain would never post his picture on Ye Olde Internet, but Three Wolf Captain just might take that dare.

And I KNEW Jobs had a secret weapon! Well played, MIG

 
My favorite goofy review:

One should not be intimidated by Tuscan Whole Milk. Nor should one prejudge, despite the fact that Tuscan is non-vintage and comes in such large containers. Do not be fooled: this is not a jug milk. I always find it important to taste milk using high-quality stemware -- this is milk deserving of something better than a Flintstones plastic tumbler. One should pour just a small dollop and swirl it in the glass -- note the coating and look for clots or discoloration. And the color -- it should be opaque, and very, very white. Now, immerse your nose in the glass and take a whiff. Tuscan transports you instantly to scenic hill towns in central Italy (is that Montepulciano I detect?) --- there is the loamy clay, the green grass of summer days, the towering cypress. And those gentle hints of Italian flowers -- wild orchids, sunflowers, poppies. Then, one takes in the thick liquid and lets it roll across and under the tongue -- what is that? perhaps a hint of a nutty Edam cheese? With Tuscan, you feel the love of every dairyperson involved -- from the somewhat sad and deranged farmhand shovelling steaming cowpies to the bored union milk maiden dreaming of leaving this soul crushing life behind for a job waiting tables for obnoxious American tourists in Siena. But not too fast -- sip gently, slowly, or one is in danger of not only missing the subtleties of the milk's texture and its terroir, but -- if chilled too long -- also of giving oneself a blinding ice cream headache. Nay, savor the goodness that only dairymen and dairywomen working at the apex of their craft can deliver. Tuscan is best drunk young -- no, no, don't cellar this gem -- I guarantee you'll be sorry if you do. I recommend pairing with freshly baked macadamia nut scones. Milk Expectorator gives this one a 92.

 
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