Once apon a time, there was a guy named Joe. A simple, but educated man. A man so educated, no other man, woman, child, ginger, or whore's ideas could match on an intelectual level. A man who starts a sentence with the letter "A". Anyway, Joe was driving in his badass-sunbich 1969' harley davidson. The sun was slightly slimmering in the shiny sky, only to be reflected on to the jet black steel of a brand new shotgun. This weapon wasn't for murder, no way hose', it's more than likely his sudden fascination of wanting to be a tough guy, and this was his, "stamp of approval". Joe, a man who's idea of fun was jumping into the back of a speeding grocery cart, now turned into a shotgun brandishing, motor cyclin', bastard with a 7 year old beard. The very same beard that washed the shame from humanity's hands in a motion of complete american badass-sunbitchin' pride and firmness of old mighty john henrey's hammer, which beat the force of a steel drivin' hammer. this story is going no where, sorry i'm in a storytelling mood, even if i made it up.