There are very few things I hate in professional sports more than the 1972 Miami Dolphins. I will toast a glass of champagne each time one of them dies.
I'm gonna do like the old lumber jacks used to do and Im going to go out back and take my axe and Im gonna make a lil mark on my thigh.
Then I'm not going to properly care for the wound and I'm gonna watch it heal over as a hideous horribly infected scar. That way I will never forget how much I hate the 1972 Miami Dolphins.
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