THE WORD DUDE REFLECTS ON ITS STEADY DECLINE FROM KEEPING COMPANY WITH RAKISH 19TH CENTURY DANDIES TO ITS DEMEANING MODERN DAY ROLE AS FILLER FOR LIGHT BEER COMMERCIALS
Takeaway:
The wind changes again. I must stop. Stale barley and hops assault my nostrils. Enhanced bosoms beat me mercilessly about the face and neck. Slovenly fat men appear clutching waifish empty-headed jezebels at their sides. A long lost celebrity, Carl Weathers perhaps, is poised to burst from my chest in mimicry of a college football team's pre-game run onto the field.
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