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I’m going to be singing this for the rest of the week…
Guess this’ll be the day that I die.
How are you drinking rye?
Archer: So you’re telling me that the good old boys were drinking whisky and rye… (laughing) …like mixed together?
Robert: Archer, please just…
Archer: I am concerned about the mental health of them good old boys. (gasps)
Robert: What?
Archer: Do you think their jobs were levee-based?