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/Random note here but I was changing out some broken hangers in my closet this afternoon when I found 2 shirts that I have. Both are Benoit, Rabid Wolverine shirts. I stared at them for the longest time and then put them away. I can't ever wear those again. It's like playing homage to a man that murdered his wife and son.
Is that weird or crazy of me?
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By the time a woman realizes her mother was right, she has a daughter who thinks she is wrong.
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