I Can’t Get Enough Deuce Gruden

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Not even in a lab.

Not even in a lab could you concoct such a perfect meathead. I mean look at him. Look. He’s glorious. From his height to his skin tone to his lineage. I’ll dare say that more perfect a meathead simply does not exist.

It’s like every kid who’s ever tried to fight you at a crowded bar held a round robin wrestling tournament where the winner still got passed over for his taller friend, married a woman he resented, then tossed his kid into the locker room of a Gold’s Gym, left to pit his wits and will against nature’s fury like a Spartan initiation.

He would return to his people a meathead, or not at all. And Deuce Gruden returned like King Napole– I mean King Leonidas himself, ready to push steel, bang chains potentially take HGH, and bust traps on any guy with the fucking nerve to gently graze his back in this overcrowded bar WATCH WHERE YOU’RE MOVING BUDDY.

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