It is going to be a great season and here is why.

Underwear and milk in the same thread makes you wonder, LOL.

A good season is coming soon but not soon enough.

I'm ready for some good football NOW!

VFL...GBO!!!
 
The only way that this could be a great season is if the whole team has been drinking Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 gallon, 128 fl oz.

Tuscan Whole Milk?? Have you never heard of Weigel's milk? Rod Wilks was raised on Weigel's milk. Peyton Manning was a backup QB to Todd Helton until he discovered Weigels milk. I dont know what this Tuscan milk is that you speak of, but it has nothing on Weigels. The men who built Neyland Stadium drank Weigels in order that the glory that would soon come from the stadium would not melt them into an abyss. The three wolves breast fed off of a Weigel's cow and that is where the tshirt gets its glory from. Take your tuscan whole milk garbage back to where it came from. Long live Weigels milk and the 89 cent Cherry Icees.

Thank you Mr. Weigel.You are a true VFL
 
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Tuscan Whole Milk?? Have you never heard of Weigel's milk? Rod Wilks was raised on Weigel's milk. Peyton Manning was a backup QB to Todd Helton until he discovered Weigels milk. I dont know what this Tuscan milk is that you speak of, but it has nothing on Weigels. The men who built Neyland Stadium drank Weigels in order that the glory that would soon come from the stadium would not melt them into an abyss. The three wolves breast fed off of a Weigel's cow and that is where the tshirt gets its glory from. Take your tuscan whole milk garbage back to where it came from. Long live Weigels milk and the 89 cent Cherry Icees.

Thank you Mr. Weigel.You are a true VFL

The three wolves howl because they do not have Weigel's milk.
 
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Tuscan Whole Milk?? Have you never heard of Weigel's milk? Rod Wilks was raised on Weigel's milk. Peyton Manning was a backup QB to Todd Helton until he discovered Weigels milk. I dont know what this Tuscan milk is that you speak of, but it has nothing on Weigels. The men who built Neyland Stadium drank Weigels in order that the glory that would soon come from the stadium would not melt them into an abyss. The three wolves breast fed off of a Weigel's cow and that is where the tshirt gets its glory from. Take your tuscan whole milk garbage back to where it came from. Long live Weigels milk and the 89 cent Cherry Icees.

Thank you Mr. Weigel.You are a true VFL

Once upon a mid-day sunny, while I savored Nuts 'N Honey,
With my Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 gal, 128 fl. oz., I swore
As I went on with my lapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at the icebox door.
'Bad condensor, that,' I muttered, 'vibrating the icebox door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Not to sound like a complainer, but, in an inept half-gainer,
I provoked my bowl to tip and spill its contents on the floor.
Stupefied, I came to muddle over that increasing puddle,
Burgeoning deluge of that which I at present do adore -
Snowy Tuscan wholesomeness exclusively produced offshore -
Purg'ed here for evermore.

And the pool so white and silky, filled me with a sense of milky
Ardor of the type fantastic of a loss not known before,
So that now, to still the throbbing of my heart, while gently sobbing,
I retreated, heading straightway for the tempting icebox door -
Heedless of that pitter-patter tapping at the icebox door -
I resolved to have some more.

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
'This,' said I, 'requires an extra dram of milk, my favorite pour.'
To the icebox I aspired, motivated to admire
How its avocado pigment complemented my decor.
Then I grasped its woodgrain handle - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams of Tuscans I had known before
But the light inside was broken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only words there spoken were my whispered words, 'No more!'
Coke and beer, some ketchup I set eyes on, and an apple core -
Merely this and nothing more.

Back toward the table turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
'Surely,' said I, 'surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

From the window came a stirring, then, with an incessant purring,
Inside stepped a kitten; mannerlessly did she me ignore.
Not the least obeisance made she; not a minute stopped or stayed she;
But, with mien of lord or lady, withdrew to my dining floor -
Pounced upon the pool of Tuscan spreading o'er my dining floor -
Licked, and lapped, and supped some more.

Then this tiny cat beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grand enthusiasm of the countenance she wore,
Toward the mess she showed no pity, 'til I said, 'Well, hello, kitty!'
Sought she me with pretty eyes that seemed to open some rapport.
So I pleaded, 'Tell me, tell me what it is that you implore!'
Quoth the kitten, 'Get some more.'
 
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Once upon a mid-day sunny, while I savored Nuts 'N Honey,
With my Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 gal, 128 fl. oz., I swore
As I went on with my lapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at the icebox door.
'Bad condensor, that,' I muttered, 'vibrating the icebox door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Not to sound like a complainer, but, in an inept half-gainer,
I provoked my bowl to tip and spill its contents on the floor.
Stupefied, I came to muddle over that increasing puddle,
Burgeoning deluge of that which I at present do adore -
Snowy Tuscan wholesomeness exclusively produced offshore -
Purg'ed here for evermore.

And the pool so white and silky, filled me with a sense of milky
Ardor of the type fantastic of a loss not known before,
So that now, to still the throbbing of my heart, while gently sobbing,
I retreated, heading straightway for the tempting icebox door -
Heedless of that pitter-patter tapping at the icebox door -
I resolved to have some more.

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
'This,' said I, 'requires an extra dram of milk, my favorite pour.'
To the icebox I aspired, motivated to admire
How its avocado pigment complemented my decor.
Then I grasped its woodgrain handle - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams of Tuscans I had known before
But the light inside was broken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only words there spoken were my whispered words, 'No more!'
Coke and beer, some ketchup I set eyes on, and an apple core -
Merely this and nothing more.

Back toward the table turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
'Surely,' said I, 'surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

From the window came a stirring, then, with an incessant purring,
Inside stepped a kitten; mannerlessly did she me ignore.
Not the least obeisance made she; not a minute stopped or stayed she;
But, with mien of lord or lady, withdrew to my dining floor -
Pounced upon the pool of Tuscan spreading o'er my dining floor -
Licked, and lapped, and supped some more.

Then this tiny cat beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grand enthusiasm of the countenance she wore,
Toward the mess she showed no pity, 'til I said, 'Well, hello, kitty!'
Sought she me with pretty eyes that seemed to open some rapport.
So I pleaded, 'Tell me, tell me what it is that you implore!'
Quoth the kitten, 'Get some more.'

Maaahhhhhvelous! We all want more.

Best thread in a long time.
 
That cat is busted if it chose Tuscan milk over Weigels. #fact

wilks2.jpg
 
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Tuscan Whole Milk?? Have you never heard of Weigel's milk? Rod Wilks was raised on Weigel's milk. Peyton Manning was a backup QB to Todd Helton until he discovered Weigels milk. I dont know what this Tuscan milk is that you speak of, but it has nothing on Weigels. The men who built Neyland Stadium drank Weigels in order that the glory that would soon come from the stadium would not melt them into an abyss. The three wolves breast fed off of a Weigel's cow and that is where the tshirt gets its glory from. Take your tuscan whole milk garbage back to where it came from. Long live Weigels milk and the 89 cent Cherry Icees.

Thank you Mr. Weigel.You are a true VFL

+100, Weigels Skim Delite beats your Tuscan whole milk and it's dad.
 
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Reactions: 1 person
+100, Weigels Skim Delite beats your Tuscan whole milk and it's dad.


In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately dairy-house decree:
Where Alf, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man,
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
the sacred cows wandered and fed,
And there were gardens bright with soft young grass,
Where blossomed many a pound of fresh-churned butter;
And casein scents filled the air,
Engorging the nostrils of naughty milk-maids.

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian milk-maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Cottage Cheese.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dairy in air,
That sunny dome! those cows of wonder!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Moo! Moooo!
Her flashing eyes, her swinging udder!
Weave a circle round her thrice,
And squeeze the teats with care,
For she on sweet grass hath fed,
And produced the Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon,
128 fl oz, of Paradise.
 
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately dairy-house decree:
Where Alf, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man,
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
the sacred cows wandered and fed,
And there were gardens bright with soft young grass,
Where blossomed many a pound of fresh-churned butter;
And casein scents filled the air,
Engorging the nostrils of naughty milk-maids.

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian milk-maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Cottage Cheese.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dairy in air,
That sunny dome! those cows of wonder!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Moo! Moooo!
Her flashing eyes, her swinging udder!
Weave a circle round her thrice,
And squeeze the teats with care,
For she on sweet grass hath fed,
And produced the Tuscan Whole Milk, 1 Gallon,
128 fl oz, of Paradise.

Excellent
 

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