When I was little, we found a man. He looked like, like, butchered. The old women in the village crossed themselves... and whispered crazy things, strange things. "El Diablo cazador de hombres." Only in the hottest years this happens. And this year, it grows hot. We begin finding our men. We found them sometimes without their skins and sometimes much, much worse. "El cazador trofeo de los hombres" means the demon who makes trophies of men.
that was actually a rare example of a Canadian with a sense of humour and he was parodying the typical butthurt Canadians, Pinkbike users are all retarded I'm glad i only come here to
"Strap this on your sore ass Blaine!"
Rope? Check.
Dagger? Check.
Chains? Check.
Rocks? Check.
Laser Beams? Check.
Acid? Check.
Body Bag? Check.
Murmaider, murmaider, murmaider,
murmaider!!
I mean tworldsmine was checking off everything, murmaider had to pop into someone elses head beside mine.