Reader Submission:
I think what the plaque reads is worthy of this website…. a true american badass.
-Tyler G. from PA
Uh… holyfuckingshit Tyler. How much chest hair you think this guy had? What happens when this guy gets in a bar fight? What do you think C. Dale Petersen benches? Why do I suddenly feel completely inadequate? Imagine having that story in your back pocket when you and your buddies are one-upping each other at the bar. I see this scenario playing out frequently for C. Dale (sweet name by the way):
C. Dale is mackin’ some hunny at the bar. Playing it smooth, because that is how C. Dale rolls. He doesn’t just bust out the “I killed a bear with my hands” line right away, that would make him appear cocky, and C. Dale is better than that - a true gentleman. He has his wingman roll up to order drinks. Wingman leans into the conversation and kinda nonchalantly says to the girl, “ask him about the time he killed a bear.” Her interest is peaked, killing a bear, even with a gun, is pretty badass, but she has no idea of the story that is about to unfold. And C. Dale has rehearsed this story a thousand times, and he lays it down thick. Even if this chick was the President of PETA, the raw animal instinct inside her screams, “MATE WITH THIS MAN.” You can taste the pheromones in the air, and C. Dale bangs that chick bareback right there on the bar. And nobody, not the bartenders, not the bouncers, not the off-duty policeman 4 barstools away, says a god damn thing. And when he is done, he lets go a mighty roar, and guys shake his hand and pat his back, and women line up because they all want a taste of the manliest of man seed.
Doesn’t matter what your max bench is, if you are in the room with C. Dale, you might as well have a vagina.
-Tony “Two Scoops” Muscoli
