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This doesn't qualify as braggin' rights, since it wasn't me, but my daddy was the commanding officer of Frankford Arsenal at the end of WWII. Had one cool-ass house, from what I was told - there was a button under the carpet at my mom's end of the dining room table that she would press to ring a bell in the kitchen. Surely that must qualify me as a gen-yoo-wine old fart. Which is all I claim to be, other than a decent shot.
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