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Huh well good mornin' to you too, cerealcat. Nothin' like a little fuck you with your coffee, dig? Ride the slide today, brother.

Might be goin' downhill, sure…but sometimes that just means you’re pickin’ up speed, dig?

Chalupa, my texmexcat..'the Gimp' huh? Gotta ask...we talkin’ sleepin' inna box, or just a nod to some vintage knees and a hip that gave up the fight sometime around the first Bush administration? Either way, I dig it Jack.

Whoa there, cerealcat drops a “fuck you” before even buyin’ me a drink. Bold opener. You spit like that at all the newcomers, or just the ones that snap?

Gotta hand it to @chalupa , cat’s got some real smooth digs out here in the forum wasteland. Clean threads, sharp takes, and the vibe’s just right. Real estate like that deserves more jazz and fewer cobwebs, dig? Shame it’s so quiet out here. Feels like we’re sippin’ whiskey in a ghost town...

Solid, daddy-o! Tell Phil I said “sup bro?” and remind him he still owes me a hand from ’06. I folded with a straight just to be polite. Dig?

Once a joke, now it’s scripture. This is loopin’ while the empire does donuts in a strip mall parkin’ lot. That’s the red, white, and blues for you, dig?

Regrets....letting the wrong folks talk over the right silence... Sometimes you meet someone made of music and all you do is hum. Coffee, black as a poet's mood and strong enough to make a sax weep. No foam, no frills. Just fuel. If I could smash anyone? Smash? Ain’t usually my word, but if I...

I dig that, Clyde. You’re right, the tunes they play might be different, even clashin’, but from my seat, it still ends in static. I ain’t knockin’ your take though, wantin’ to live like Mr. Rogers? That’s the kind of platform I could hang my hat on. Let’s call it the Cardigan Caucus. No spin...

Heh afraid not, Jack. That’s the kicker..turns out Bill was cookin’ nother kinda chemistry. Cat was strippin’ (or tryin' to) that ol Solvent Red 26 away, tryin’ to run clean while playin’ dirty, dig? Law wasn’t amused. But like I said, I kept my lips sealed. Concerno don’t sing .

Heh it was a false groove. Ol’ Bill wasn’t cookin’ no bomb, cat was workin’ on somethin’ way slicker, dig? Real clever like. But the law caught the scent, man. Came knockin’ all on their own. And nah I didn’t blow no whistle. I ain’t that kinda cat, dig?

Two sides of the same busted record, dig? One’s evil, the other can’t find the needle. Left, right? Same old noise, Jack. Just different brands of the blues.

Yeah, I know it’s an oldie, but Jamsheed still rolls harder than the rest, dig?

Heh cool tale, musclecat. Fifteen tackles for loss? That’s heavyweight stuff, real bruiser energy. Sounds like you’re livin’ the high life, daddy. Forum’s lucky to catch a breeze off your stride, dig?

Heh, only if you’re pretending, Clyde. Me? I just swing this way. Smooth ride all the way down, dig?

Now that's the cool school, daddy-o! Ain’t no lead-slinger, but it’s got style for MILES and been teachin kids the gospel of marksmanship since before swing was swingin. It don’t kills, but it THRILLS, dig?

Could be, Jack, could be… but lemme tell ya, these cats didn’t look like no tweakers. No teeth missing, no jitterbuggin. .. Too quiet, too clean. This felt organized, dig? Makes me think it ain’t meth they’re cooking... it’s something bigger maybe.

ALOTTA cats tote heat like it's a fashion statement these days... plastic, tactical, all bark no soul. Not me, man. I keep it classic. My piece? A S&W Model 19 snub-nose, six rounds of .357 jazz tucked in a coat pocket. Whyy? ‘Cause it’s got character, dig? Blue steel, wood grip, aint about...

Heh… you dig it, huh? Cool cat knows cool vibes when he hears ‘em. Keep swingin’ Jack.

Now don’t blow your top, but I just can’t catch the vibe with Rick and Morty, dig? Feels like it’s tryin too hard to be clever, like a cat snappin his fingers at every line hopin you’ll clap. The whole “I’m smart and sad about it” groove gets old fast, ya dig? And the fans? Real square, actin’...