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Joe Rogan, the real mans Opra?

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18 minutes ago, gowlerk said:

Let me open the discussion by saying that neither of those names mean anything to me. Is he an opra singer and you can't spell opera?

I believe Brent is asking if he's the 'real man's Oprah'....but proper spelling and punctuation are for libtards.  

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8 minutes ago, lippy said:

Word has it he's the real man's opera 

Never really cared  for opera, so I'm good there.

Fried okra on the other hand. Local restaurant does an amazing okra, whole pieces, cornmeal, a sweet hot jelly. Damn.

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3 minutes ago, jakee said:

You know meth lords aren't supposed to be role models, right?

And in many other 1st world countries the premise of Breaking Bad makes no sense because everyone has adequate health insurance.

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11 hours ago, NewGuy2005 said:

Ah, but that clip supposedly explains what is means to be a man, not what it means to be a real man.

On top of that, I don’t think providing is what defines a man. I am the only one providing a monetary income to my family, but my wife certainly provides in her way to the family, the relationship, the household etc. 


So what makes you a “real man”?

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On second thought, how about Rudyard Kipling's "If?"  That's one place to begin talking.

If you can keep your head when all about you   
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;   
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   
    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;   
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   
    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   
    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!


Edited by NewGuy2005
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