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One of the last games I played in, many years ago, was officiated by a young guy who I had helped train not long before. No whining, but I flinched and frowned a lot. The guy guarding me fouled out. One foul of the five was legitimate.
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I swear, Gus, you'd argue with a possum.
It'd be easier than arguing with you, Woodrow.
Lonesome Dove
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