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A redneck friend of mine named Rob (NOT Robb with two b's) was a 'special case'. Dude loved to fight. He'd throw himself into any bar fight with joy and gusto. It wasn't even about status for him. He just liked doing it. It *always* ended badly for the other dude(s).
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Some monkey-dancer would get in his face, and always there was this moment when, instead of participating in the game, Rob would just grin happily. There was usually a moment when the other dude realized he done fucked up, and it showed on his face. Popcorn and beer, mang.
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Yeah that was a hoot. He started it. You forgot to mention he was actually holding the pointy end of a ski pole in front of your face. I was going to try sweeping his feet if he lunged so I was concentrating on the end of the ski pole. He was NUTS.
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