The Original Old Farts Club

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Or Gold Bond. I had a cub working with me outside during a week where it got over 100 degrees every day, and we were working right next to the river in Detroit (hot AND humid). He was complaining that the insides of his legs were getting galled. I reached into the truck and pulled out a bottle of GB and handed it to him. He went into the pickle barrel and you could tell just when he floured himself. Talk about a scream? He came out of that portashitter with murder in his eyes, but by the time he made it over to me, he wasn't complaining anymore.
Told him to hit it a few more times during the day and to get his own bottle for tomorrow. The stuff will sting on raw flesh, but it goes away pretty quickly.
 
Or Gold Bond. I had a cub working with me outside during a week where it got over 100 degrees every day, and we were working right next to the river in Detroit (hot AND humid). He was complaining that the insides of his legs were getting galled. I reached into the truck and pulled out a bottle of GB and handed it to him. He went into the pickle barrel and you could tell just when he floured himself. Talk about a scream? He came out of that portashitter with murder in his eyes, but by the time he made it over to me, he wasn't complaining anymore.
Told him to hit it a few more times during the day and to get his own bottle for tomorrow. The stuff will sting on raw flesh, but it goes away pretty quickly.
That reminds me of trying Red Arrow athlete feet medicine on my jock itch and discovering it was brutal, but the next day the dead skin peeled off in a sheet and there was no jock itch left.

I subsequently relayed that cure to a college roommate, along with the caveat it burned a lot. He was desparate for a cure that worked so dropped his drawers and tried it anyway and I can still see his shoe prints on the wall over his bed and his screaming, "You son of a bitch, you son of a bitch, you son..............et al".
 
That reminds me of trying Red Arrow athlete feet medicine on my jock itch and discovering it was brutal, but the next day the dead skin peeled off in a sheet and there was no jock itch left.

I subsequently relayed that cure to a college roommate, along with the caveat it burned a lot. He was desparate for a cure that worked so dropped his drawers and tried it anyway and I can still see his shoe prints on the wall over his bed and his screaming, "You son of a *****, you son of a *****, you son..............et al".
LOL
I remember the same thing when I had to use it
Better than swamp asss
 
Scary that I'm old enough to remember the milkman. Nice guy. In the summer, he'd give us any spare ice he had on his Divco and an occasional short ride to the next house for fun.
Every house in my city "hood" had a little double door on the side of the house that the milk was delivered in, and milk bottles that you could use for a hammer.
 

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