That distinction belongs to Mr. Machete.
Well who’d want to stick with that nasty ol’ Folgers anyways?!?!?
To paraphrase the hippies of my day back in the 60’s, “If you drink Folgers, you’re too old.”
I guess he and Nigel work on the same scale . . .
If I remember correctly from my high school days back during the original OPEC oil embargo, it would be Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill.
WINO WARNING! This shhitte has an online “fan club,” and they rate this stuff as “the king of all flavors of Boone’s Farm,” giving it 99 pts. Sommelier’s everywhere throwing up in their mouths and choking it back down, just to kill the thought of the taste.
You’re an idiot.
“I went inside to the freezer, and my mother . . . had thrown . . . the snowball . . .away. So I went outside, and I spit on him.”
If you’re thinking Michael Keaton in “Mr. Mom,” that should be, “220, 221, whatever it takes . . .”
So you’re confessing to godlessness now?
And in outing Schroeder, Charlie Brown takes that first self-loathing step out of the closet, one which many years of therapy will do little to resolve . . .
Why not? It would be interesting to see what . . . develops . . .