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Can you imagine The Bearded Man walking through an empty desert somewhere in the Southwestern United States, with the blazing sun causing rippling heatwaves to radiate from the barren sand? Can you picture a lone tumbleweed rolling past him on the vast expanse, as micro-flurries of dust kick up all around him? We can completely picture it now: crusty beard, dirty face with beads of sweat forming on his weathered forehead. He's a little more sunburnt than usual, and it looks like the man is in desperate need of a drink. He's got a scowl on his face, and yet he seems determined... He's wandering slowly but purposefully amongst the cacti, hands hovering eagerly over what appear to be two holstered six-shooters. It seems The Bearded Man has a score to settle, but why? Was it a lady? A poker game? Another one of Black Bart's dirty tricks? Watering hole dun gone dry? Or maybe he's just looking for an oasis to remind him of the sexier times? He sure does seem far from home, doesn't he? Can't you just *feel* the dry, relentless heat beating down on you? Can't you almost taste the sand in your parched mouth? Don't you feel like you could really use an ice cold drink of water right about now all of a sudden? Yeah?? Well too bad, cuz it never happened. The Bearded Man hates the Southwest and you should too. But he likes Stupead. A lot.
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