I may not be the brightest bulb on the porch, the sharpest knife in the drawer; I'm no Edison; my philosophy may not be up to Kant's; but I am not as dumb as a bag of hammers either, except when I'm drunk at 0-dark-30, and decide to call up some old gal I haven't seen since 1969, and tell her husband that she's mine and "I'm a-comin to get her!" Or worse, I cry and tell her I never stopped loving...
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