americans - a brassy bunch - only talk louder when they are drunk in foreign countries.
one old army guy to another in an irish pub in wiesbaden describing their favorite officer to serve under:
"he´s a good fucking guy. a nice fucking guy. you know whae he says? he´s a good fucking guy. he says, 'don´t make any decisions, don´t cause any grief.' he´s a good fucking guy. he´s a nice fucking guy. i hope he doesn´t have to make the call."
"fuck, man. look, man. fuck, man. look at the fucking walls."
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