Raylan offering to arrange a reunion between Boyd and Arlo gave me, well, you know…

Them Border Patrol assholes can suck my, well, you know…

You rang?

A good Art rant, and Tim gettin' a case gives me, well, you know…

That's OK.  He's thinkin' it.

Seeing hitmen posing as lawmen get their just desserts gives me, well, you know…

I'm on a stakeout tonight, so it might be a while before my presence is felt in my usual nooks and crannies.

There were a couple of rooms there which definitely made me wither.

Now, that's just a waste of a perfectly-posteriored bail bondswoman.

It's making me twitch in anticipation.

How do you think I feel?  It's enough to make a man loosen his posture!

The story about this review is that it's been posted far too early for me to comment in an educated manner.  More on this unbelievable apocalypse, as it expands.

You've got problems, son.

I have no need for an app.

This case reminds me of a story my grandpappy told me a while back.  He used to work insurance, y'see, and he processed this claim from an ad agency in New York City.  Seems that a Christmas party got out of hand; there was a drunk secretary and a John Deere riding mower…  Apparently, there were a few people who ended…

I have, but it's been a while.  He's a bit of a sad sack.

That blowtorch was going to leave quite the carbon footprint.

I feel a tingling sensation.

The latter.

Lawmen trading clean shooting stories are like Viagra to me.