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Sure, all the guys at your high school reunion think your shirt is ridiculous. Truth is, they’re all just jealous that they’re not your best friend. “What about your spouse?” they ask. “What about your dog?” “What about us?”
You just take another sip of your drink and point out that all of those are great, but none of them have ever made your sworn enemies “manure their fields,” if they catch your drift.
The murmurs continue, so you make a phone call and wait twenty minutes. When the Warthog comes in low, grumbling its way along the ground, everyone suddenly gets it.