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Swamp Folk

Why I love SotB (you've gotta click to see the picture that accompanies this caption):

Ladies, if you can't grow old, wear a funky crochet short-sleeved blouse, pick your nose and drink a beer in public, what's the point?

Also, she found this feature on Lucky Cole, who's kinda amazing.

Behind the barrier, a rusted metal sculpture of what can only be described as a medieval warrior guarded the entrance. A hangman's noose dangled in the wind behind it. The place looked as if it belonged on the set of The Hills Have Eyes, the Seventies horror flick about a lost family that becomes prey for psychotic killers. At the rear of the property, two trailers were connected to each other via a deck, a covered front porch, and a kitchen made from sturdy wood.

A blue-eyed bear of a man wearing a floral print short-sleeve shirt, black Wrangler jeans, and black cowboy boots sat before two computers inside one of the mobile homes. When he stood to greet me, he looked larger than a Florida black bear romping through Big Cypress. He sported a salt-and-pepper mustache and beard, but had a youthful smile.

That is so the Everglades.