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March 15, 2002
BEWARE THE IDES OF MARCH. Many a moon I've had to wait for this date. To give you a cross-country ass-whuppin' and splatter blood state to state. To put toothpicks through your eyeballs and serve ‘em in a well drink. To hear wolverines crying from how bad your bodily fluids stink. To pound in your skull ‘til it's fucked up as sin. Then pull back the minute hand and do it again. So beware the Ides Of March, you know-nothing fuck. Watch your ass. Watch your head. Far better men than you have fucked around and ended up dead. War.