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Now she don't ask and I don't shop for women's underwear

I ain't much for shopping,
Or for goin' into town
Except at cattle-shipping time,
I ain't too easily found.

But the day came when I had to go -
I left the kids with Ma.
But 'fore I left, she asked me,
 "Would you pick me up a bra?"

So without thinkin' I said, "Sure,"
How tough could that job be?
An' I bent down and kissed her
An' said, "I'll be back by three."

Well, I done the things I needed,
But I started to regret
Ever offering to buy that thing -
I worked me up a sweat

I walked into the ladies shop
My hat pulled over my eyes,
I didn't want to take a chance
On bein' recognized.

I walked up to the sales clerk -
I didn't hem or haw -
I told that lady right straight out,
"I'm here to buy a bra."

From behind I heard some snickers,
So I turned around to see
Every woman in that store
Was a'gawkin' right at me!

"What kind would you be looking for?"
Well, I just scratched my head.
I'd only seen one kind before,
"Thought bras was bras," I said.

She gave me a disgusted look,
"Well sir, that's where you're wrong.
Follow me," I heard her say,
Like a dog, I tagged along.

She took me down this alley
Where bras was on display.
I thought my jaw would hit the floor
When I saw that lingerie.

They had all these different styles
That I'd never seen before
I thought I'd go plumb crazy 'fore
I left that women's store.

They had bras you wear for eighteen hours
And bras that cross your heart.
There was bras that lift and separate,
And that was just the start.

They had bras that made you feel
Like you ain't wearing one at all,
And bras that you can train in
When you start off when you're small.

Well, I finally made my mind up -
Picked a black and lacy one -
I told the lady, "Bag it up,"
And figured I was done.

But then she asked me for the size
I didn't hesitate
I knew that measurement by heart,
"A six-and-seven-eighths."

"Six and seven eighths you say?
That really isn't right."
"Oh, yes ma'am! I'm real positive -
I measured them last night!"

I thought that she'd go into shock,
Musta took her by surprise
When I told her that my wife's bust
Was the same as my hat size.

"That's what I used to measure with,
I figured it was fair,
But if I'm wrong, I'm sorry ma'am."
This drew another stare.

By now a crowd had gathered
And they all was crackin' up
When the lady asked to see my hat,
To measure for the cup.

When she finally had it figured,
I gave the gal her pay.
Then I turned to leave the store,
Tipped my hat and said, "Good day."

My wife had heard the story
'fore I ever made it home.
She'd talked to fifteen women
Who called her on the phone.

She was still a-laughin'
But by then I didn't care.
Now she don't ask and I don't shop
For women's underwear.

~ Author Unknown

Submitted by Andy, Gettysburg, Pa

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Before deploying to Iraq by a chartered airliner; the troops of the 48th Brigade Combat Team...

..., a National Guard unit, had to go through the same security checks that civilian passengers are required to follow prior to boarding the aircraft.

Lt/Col John King, the unit's commander, told his 280 fellow soldiers that FAA anti-hijacking regulations required passengers to surrender pocket knives, nose hair scissors and cigarette lighters.

"If you have any of those things," he said, almost apologetically, "put them in this box now."

After passing this inspection the troops were allowed to get on the aircraft with their assault rifles, body armor, helmets, pistols, bayonets and combat shotguns.

Submitted by Dick, Williamsport, Md.

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The Ultimate Complaint Letter ...

Apparently the U.S. cable companies have modeled themselves on their sister companies in Great Britain. For those of you who appreciate fine wordsmithing, this is an actual British complaint letter. he piece suggests at least three things: 1) Americans and Canadians are not the only ones who get poor service from their ISP, cable and/or alarm companies. (NTL is a cable operator in Britain). 2) The Brit's probably write the world's best letters of complaint. 3) This gentleman is really pissed!

"Dear Cretins:

I have been an NTL customer since 9th July 2001, when I signed up for your four-in-one deal for cable TV, cable modem, telephone, and alarm monitoring. During this three-month period I have encountered inadequacy of service which I had not previously considered possible, as well as ignorance and stupidity of monolithic proportions. Please allow me to provide specific details, so that you can either pursue your professional prerogative and seek to rectify these difficulties or more likely (I suspect) so that you can have some entertaining reading material as you while away the working day smoking B&H and drinking vendor-coffee on the bog in your office.

My initial installation was canceled without warning, resulting in my spending an entire Saturday sitting on my fat arse waiting for your technician to arrive. When he did not arrive, I spent a further 57 minutes listening to your infuriating hold music, and the even more annoying Scottish robot woman telling me to look at your helpful website.

The rescheduled installation then took place some two weeks later, although the technician did forget to bring a number of vital tools -- such as a drill-bit and his cerebrum. Two weeks later, my cable modem had still not arrived. After 15 telephone calls over four weeks my modem arrived, six weeks after I had requested it -- and begun to pay for it. I estimate your internet server's downtime is roughly 35% -- the hours between about 6 PM and midnight, Monday through Friday and most of the weekend. I am still waiting for my telephone connection.

I have made nine calls on my mobile to your no-help line and have been unhelpfully transferred to a variety of disinterested individuals who are, it seems, also highly skilled bollock jugglers. I have been informed that: a telephone line is available (and someone will call me back); that I will be transferred to someone who knows whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been cut off); that I will be transferred to someone (and then been redirected to an answering machine informing me that your office is closed); that I will be transferred to someone and then been redirected to the irritating Scottish robot woman, and several other variations on this theme.

Doubtless you are no longer reading this letter, as you have at least a thousand other dissatisfied customers to ignore. Frankly I don't care. It's far more satisfying as a customer to voice my frustrations in print than to shout them at your unending hold music. Forgive me, therefore, if I continue. I thought British Telecom was crap; that they had attained the holy-pot of god-awful customer relations; and that no one, anywhere, ever, could be more disinterested, less helpful or more obstructive to delivering service to their customers. That's why I chose NT and because, well, there isn't anyone else is there? How surprised I therefore was when I discovered to my considerable dissatisfaction and disappointment what a useless shower of bastards you truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of distended rectum, incompetents of the highest order.

BT -- wankers though they are -- shine like brilliant beacons of success in the filthy mire of your seemingly limitless inadequacy. Suffice to say that I have now given up on my futile and foolhardy quest to receive any kind of service from you. I suggest that you cease any potential future attempts to extort payment from me for the services which you have so pointedly and catastrophically failed to deliver. Any such activity will be greeted initially with hilarity and disbelief and will quickly be replaced by derision and even perhaps bemused rage.

I enclose two small deposits, selected with great care from my cat's litter tray, as an expression of my utter and complete contempt for both you and your pointless company. I sincerely hope that they have not become desiccated during transit -- they were satisfyingly moist at the time of posting, and I would feel considerable disappointment if you did not experience both their rich aroma and delicate texture. Consider them the very embodiment of my feelings towards NTL and its worthless employees.

Have a nice day. May it be the last in your miserable short lives, you irritatingly incompetent and infuriatingly unhelpful bunch of twits.

May you rot in Hell,

Robert Stokes"

Submitted by Larry, Walkersville, Md.

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On the outskirts of a small town, there was a big, old pecan tree just inside the cemetery fence.

One day, two boys filled up a bucketful of nuts and sat down by the tree, out of sight, and began dividing the nuts. "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me," said one boy. Several dropped and rolled down toward the fence.

Another boy came riding along the road on his bicycle. As he passed, he thought he heard voices from inside the cemetery. He slowed down to investigate. Sure enough, he heard, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me." He just knew what it was, so he jumped back on his bike and rode off.

Now just around the bend he met an old man with a cane, hobbling along. "Come here quick," said the boy, "you won't believe what I heard! Satan and the Lord are down at the cemetery dividing up the souls."

The man said, "Beat it kid, can't you see it's hard for me to walk." When the boy insisted though, the man hobbled to the cemetery. Standing by the fence they heard, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me..." The old man whispered, "Boy, you've been tellin' the truth. Let's see if we can see the Lord." Shaking with fear, they peered through the fence yet were still unable to see anything.

The old man and the boy gripped the wrought iron bars of the fence tighter and tighter as they tried to get a glimpse of the Lord. At last they heard, "One for you, one for me. That's all. Now let's go get those nuts by the fence and we'll be done."

They say the old man made it back to town a full 5 minutes ahead of the boy on the bike!

Submitted by Andy, Gettysburg, Pa.

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An actual letter that was sent to a bank by a 96 year old woman.

The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in the New York Times.


Dear Sir:

I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his presenting the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it.

I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire salary, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only eight years.

You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank.

My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become. From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and loan repayments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate.

Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact Status which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative.

Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof. In due course, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service.

As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press the buttons as follows:

  1. To make an appointment to see me.
  2. To query a missing payment.
  3. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
  4. To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
  5. To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
  6. To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
  7. To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is required. Password will be communicated to you at a later date via the Authorized Contact.
  8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.
  9. To make a general complaint or inquiry. The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service.

While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call. Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement. May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous, New Year.

Your Humble Client.

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I've been teaching now for about fifteen years.

...I have two kids myself, but the best birth story I know is the one I saw in my own second-grade classroom a few years back.

When I was a kid, I loved show-and-tell. So I always have a few sessions with my students. It helps them get over shyness and experience a little public speaking. And it gives me a break and some guaranteed entertainment. Usually, show-and-tell is pretty tame. Kids bring in pet turtles, model airplanes, pictures of fish they catch, stuff like that. And I never, ever place any boundaries or limitations on them. If they want to lug it to school and talk about it, they're welcome.

Well, one day this little girl, Erica, a very bright, very outgoing kid, takes her turn and waddles up to the front of the class with a pillow stuffed under her sweater. She holds up a snapshot of an infant.

"This is Luke, my baby brother, and I'm going to tell you about his birthday. First, Mommy and Daddy made him as a symbol of their love, and then Daddy put a seed in my mother's stomach, and Luke grew in there. He ate for nine months through an umbrella cord."

She's standing there with her hands on the pillow, and I'm trying not to laugh and wishing I had a video camera rolling. The kids are watching her in total amazement. "Then, about two Saturdays ago, my mother starts going, 'Oh, oh, oh!'" Erica puts a hand behind her back and groans. "She walked around the house for, like an hour, "Oh, oh, oh!'" Now the kid is doing this hysterical duck-walk, holding her back and groaning. "My father called the middle wife. She delivers babies, but she doesn't have a sign on the car like the Domino's man. They got my mother to lie down in bed like this." Erica lies down with her back against the wall.

"And then, pop! My mother had this bag of water she kept in there in case he got thirsty, and it just blew up and spilled all over the bed, like psshhheew!"

"Then the middle wife starts going push, push, and breathe, breathe. They start counting, but they never even got past ten. Then, all of a sudden, out comes my brother . He was covered in yucky stuff they said was from the play-center, so there must be a lot of stuff inside there."

Then Erica stood up, took a big theatrical bow and returned to her seat. I'm sure I applauded the loudest. Ever since then, if it's show-and-tell day, I bring my camcorder - just in case another Erica comes along.

Submitted by Andy, Gettysburg, Pa.

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And these people run our country!
  • I had a New Hampshire Congresswoman ask for an aisle seat so that her hair wouldn't get messed up by being near the window.
  • I got a call from a candidate's staffer, who wanted to go to Capetown. I started to explain the length of the flight and the passport information, then she interrupted me with, "I'm not trying to make you look stupid, but Capetown is in Massachusetts."

    Without trying to make her look like the stupid one, I calmly explained, "Cape Cod is in Massachusetts, Capetown is in Africa." Her response: (click)
  • A senior Vermont Congressman called, furious about a Florida package we did. I asked what was wrong with the vacation in Orlando. He said he was expecting an ocean-view room.

    I tried to explain that is not possible, since Orlando is in the middle of the state.

    He replied, "Don't lie to me. I looked on the map, and Florida is a very thin state!"

  • I got a call from a lawmaker's wife who asked, "Is it possible to see England from Canada?"

    I said, "No."

    She said, "But they look so close on the map."

  • An aide for a Bush cabinet member once called and asked if he could rent A car in Dallas.

    When I pulled up the reservation, I noticed he had only a 1-hour layover in Dallas.

    When I asked him why he wanted to rent a car, he said, "I heard Dallas was a big airport, and we will need a car to drive between the gates to save time."

  • An Illinois Congresswoman called last week. She needed to know how it was possible that her flight from Detroit left at 8:20 a.m. and got into Chicago at 8:33 a.m. I tried to explain that Michigan was an hour ahead of Illinois, but she could not understand the concept of time zones. Finally, I told her the plane went very fast, and she bought that!

  • A New York lawmaker called and asked, "Do airlines put your physical description on your bag so they know whose luggage belongs to whom?"

    I said, "No, why do you ask?"

    She replied, "Well, when I checked in with the airline, they put a tag on my luggage that said (FAT), and I'm overweight.

    I think that is very rude?"

    After putting her on hold for a minute while I 'looked into it' (I was actually laughing) I came back and explained the city code for Fresno, CA is "FAT", and that the airline was just putting a destination tag on her luggage.

  • A Senator's aide called to inquire about a trip package to Hawaii.

    After going over all the cost info, she asked, "Would it be cheaper to fly to California and then take the train to Hawaii?"

  • I just got off the phone with a freshman Congressman who asked, "How do I know which plane to get on?"

    I asked him what exactly he meant, to which he replied, "I was told my flight number is 823, but none of these darn planes have numbers on them."

  • A lady Senator called and said, "I need to fly to Pepsi-Cola, FL.

    Do I have to get on one of those little computer planes?"

    I asked if she meant fly to Pensacola, FL on a commuter plane.

    She said, "Yeah, whatever!"

  • A senior Senator called and had a question about the documents he needed in order to fly to China.

    After a lengthy discussion about passports, I reminded him that he needed a visa.

    "Oh, no I don't.

    I've been to China many times and never had to have one of those." I double checked and sure enough, his stay required a visa. When I told him this he said, "Look, I've been to China four times and every time they have accepted my American Express!"

  • A New Mexico Congresswoman called to make reservations, "I want to go from Chicago to Rhino, New York."

    The agent was at a loss for words.

    Finally, the agent said, "Are you sure that's the name of the town?"

    "Yes, what flights do you have?" replied the lady.

    After some searching, the agent came back with, "I'm sorry, ma'am, I've looked up every airport code in the country and can't find a Rhino anywhere."

    The lady retorted, "Oh, don't be silly! Everyone knows where it is.

    Check your map!" The agent scoured a map of the state of New York and finally offered, "You don't mean Buffalo, do you?"

    "That's it! I knew it was a big animal," she said.

Submitted by Andy, Gettysburg, Pa

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The 2004 Darwin Awards

  • According to police in Windsor, Ontario, Daniel Kolta, 27, and Randy Taylor, 33, died in a head-on collision, thus earning a tie in the game of chicken they were playing with their Snowmobiles.
  • A 49-year-old San Francisco stockbroker, who "totally zoned when he ran," accidentally jogged off a 100-foot-high cliff on his daily run.
  • Buxton, NC: A man died on a beach when an 8-foot-deep hole he had dug into the sand caved in as he sat inside it. Beach-goers said Daniel Jones, 21, dug the hole for fun, or protection from the wind, and had been sitting in a beach chair at the bottom Thursday afternoon when it collapsed, burying him beneath 5 feet of sand. People on the beach, on the outer banks, used their hands and shovels, trying to claw their way to Jones, a resident of Woodbridge, VA, but could not reach him. It took rescue workers using heavy equipment almost an hour to free him while about 200 people looked on. Jones was pronounced dead at a hospital
  • According to police in Dahlonega, GA, fellow cadet Jeffrey Hoffman stabbed ROTC cadet Nick Berrena, 20, to death in January 23, who was trying to prove that a knife could not penetrate the flak vest Berrena was wearing.
  • Sylvester Briddell, Jr., 26, was killed in Selbyville, Del, as he won a bet with friends who said he would not put a revolver loaded with four bullets into his mouth and pull the trigger.

Honorable Mention:

  • In Guthrie, Okla, in October, Jason Heck tried to kill a millipede with a shot from his 22-caliber rifle, but the bullet ricocheted off a rock near the hole and hit pal Antonio Martinez in the head, fracturing his skull.
  • In Elyria, Ohio, in October, Martyn Eskins, attempting to clean out cobwebs in his basement, declined to use a broom in favor of a propane torch and caused a fire that burned the first and second floors of his house.
  • Paul Stiller, 47, was hospitalized in Andover Township, NJ, and his wife Bonnie was also injured, when a quarter-stick of dynamite blew up in their car. While driving around at 2 AM, the bored couple lit the dynamite and tried to toss it out the window to see what would happen, but apparently failed to notice the window was closed.

And the Winner:

In Tacoma, Wa., Kerry Bingham had been drinking with several friends when one of them said they knew a person who had bungee-jumped from the Tacoma Narrows Bridge in the middle of traffic. The conversation grew more heated and at least 10 men trooped along the walkway of the bridge at 4:30 am. Upon arrival at the midpoint of the bridge they discovered that no one had brought a bungee rope. Bingham, who had continued drinking, volunteered and pointed out that a coil of lineman's cable lay nearby One end of the cable was secured around Bingham's leg and the other end was tied to the bridge. His fall lasted 40 feet before the cable tightened and tore his foot off at the ankle. He miraculously survived his fall into the icy river water and was rescued by two nearby fishermen. "All I can say "said Bingham, "is that God was watching out for me on that night" "There's just no other explanation for it." Bingham's foot was never located.

Submitted by Bill, Narberth, PA.

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Once there lived a woman who had a maddening passion for baked beans.

She loved them but unfortunately, they had always had a very embarrassing and somewhat lively reaction to her.

Then one day she met a man and fell in love. When it became apparent that they would marry she thought to herself, "He is such a sweet and gentle man, he would never go for this carrying on."

She made the supreme sacrifice and gave up beans. Some months later her car broke down on the way home from work. Since she lived in the country she called her husband and told him that she would be late because she had to walk home.

On her way, she passed a small diner and the smell of the baked beans was more than she could stand. Since she still had miles to walk, she figured that she would walk off any ill effects by the time she reached home.

So, she stopped at the diner and be! fore she knew it, she had consumed three large orders of baked beans. All the way home she putt-putted, and upon arriving home she felt reasonably sure she could control it.

Her husband seemed excited to see her and exclaimed delightedly, Darling, I have a surprise for dinner tonight.

He then blindfolded her and led her to her chair at the table. She seated herself and just as he was about to remove the blindfold from his wife, the telephone rang. He made her promise not to touch the blindfold until he returned. He then went to answer the telephone.

The baked beans she had consumed were still affecting her and the pressure was becoming almost unbearable, so while her husband was out of the room she seized the opportunity, shifted her weight to one leg and let it go. It was not only loud, but it smelled like a fertilizer truck running over a skunk in front of pulpwood mill.

She took her napkin and fanned the air around her vigorously. Then, she shifted to the other cheek and ripped three more, which reminded her of cooked cabbage.

Keeping her ears tuned to the conversation in the other room, she went on like this for another ten minutes. When the telephone farewells signaled the end of her freedom, she fanned the air a few more times with her napkin, placed it on her lap and folded her hands upon it, smiling contentedly to herself.

She was the picture of innocence when her husband returned, apologizing for taking so long, he asked her if she peeked, and she assured him that she had not.

At this point, he removed the blindfold, and she was surprised to find the room filled with friends and staring at her in shocked disbelief ... unbeknownst to her, her husband had invited them over for a surprise party!

Submitted by Bill, Narberth, Pa.

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Horace the Horse.   

When Grandpa bought the property on Cross Street there was a boarding house and a vacant lot, with barn. Grandpa would be gone 3 weeks at a time, down-the-bay for a set of tides. When he came up from down-the-bay the grass in the vacant lot would be head high. So, Grandpa bought a horse to keep the grass down. The old horse was named, Horace. Grandpa put Hoarse in the lot and went down-the-bay. When he returned Ole Horace was laying by the barn, his stomach was twice it’s normal size. Grandpa did not know much about horses, but he did know Ole Horace was in bad trouble. Punta Gorda did not have a veterinarian, but did have a MD, Dr. Blunt who had some animal experience. At one time he lived on Boca Grande and gave cholera shots to pigs and goats on Cayo Costa.

Grandpa walked up the street to see Dr. Blunt, who was always in the bar this time of day. They had a few drinks and talked about local news, then Horase the Horse. Dr. Blunt said that he would meet Grandpa in about an hour. Dr. Blunt left for home to get the medicine. Grandpa stayed at the bar.

It was another, “dark and stormy night”. Daddy who had been watching Horace thought Grandpa would never come back. Ole Horace was getting bigger by the minute. Finally both Dr. Blunt and Grandpa showed up. It was dark so Daddy had lit a kerosene lantern. Dr. Blunt and Grandpa had a few more drinks and discussed Horace. Too much green hay. The hay had fermented and Horace was constipated. They had to get the medicine into Horase to break the vacuum. The only way was through the rectum. Dr. Blunt had brought the medicine and put it on the shelf. He asked Grandpa if he had a funnel, Grandpa said, “no, but I have a boat horn.” They get the horn ready. Dr. Blunt asked Daddy for the medicine and Dr. Blunt poured into the boat horn. Within seconds the horn is sucked into Horace. His eyes start to roll and his head and legs jerk. Dr. Blunt takes a closer look at the medicine bottle. He said, “this is kerosene.”! Daddy had given Dr. Blunt the wrong bottle. Later Daddy said,” you know it was dark with nothing but a kerosene lanternbe, side both medicine and kerosene were old whiskey bottles”.

By now Horace is going crazy. The gas in Horace’s stomach starts going through the horn. Horace is now on his feet and running. The barn door is open and Horace is gone into the night, the horn blasting. Daddy says,” you could hear the boat horn all night long, both long and short blast. Every drawbridge in South West Florida was going up and down all night”.

Horace made it back home in a couple of days. He was fine, but tired.

Submitted by Andy, Gettysburg, Pa.

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