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Robert Burton

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Him that makes shoes go barefoot himself.

 
Robert Burton

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Y'know, every time in America some guy gets caught cheating, every media outlet does the same story: "Why Do Men Cheat?" Oh, take a wild f**king guess, would you? I think you're over-thinking this. They're not looking for fantasy, they're looking for...sex. That's it! They want sex. And not just sex; they want new sex. The way women want new shoes. Right? You have shoes, they're perfectly good shoes, you don't want those shoes, you want new shoes. We want a person, you want a shoe and somehow you're morally superior.

 
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Old friends, like old shoes, are comfortable. But old shoes, unlike old friends, tend not to be supportive: it is easier to stumble and sprain an ankle while wearing a pair of old shoes than it is in new shoes, with their less yielding leather.

 
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Shoes. I like shoes a lot. My favorite are these Tory Burch boots that I have on. But my favorite shoes to buy are Converse shoes. I have probably every color of Converse shoes known to man.

 
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I had to attend this party instantly and I didn't have shoes. So I went and bought a pair of shoes worth 1,200 Euro. I look at those shoes and go 'This is the most expensive bite of my life'.

 
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I guess right here is a good place for me to get the record straight on how I got to be "Shoeless Joe." I've read and heard every kind of yarn imaginable about how I got the name, but this is how it really happened:
When I was with Greenville back in 1908, we only had 12 men on the roster. I was first off a pitcher, but when I wasn't pitching I played the outfield. I played in a new pair of shoes one day and they wore big blisters on my feet. The next day we came up short of players, a couple of men hurt and one missing. Tommy Stouch — he was a sportswriter in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, the last I heard of him — was the manager, and he told me I'd just have to play, blisters or not.
I tried it with my old shoes on and just couldn't make it. He told me I'd have to play anyway, so I threw away the shoes and went to the outfield in my stockinged feet. I hadn't put out much until along about the seventh inning I hit a long triple and I turned it on. That was in Anderson, and the bleachers were close to the baselines there. As I pulled into third, some big guy stood up and hollered: "You shoeless sonofagun, you!"
They picked it up and started calling me Shoeless Joe all around the league, and it stuck. I never played the outfield barefoot, and that was the only day I ever played in my stockinged feet, but it stuck with me.

 
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