An age which existed before the forward pass, when every down was a goal line stand, and the only padding you had was around your waist, from a diet of steak, whiskey, and more whiskey. Aye, he's got freakish strength, but he didn't buy it at some fancy gym- every ounce of muscle was pummeled out of something bigger and meaner than him. Lord Manly, LLC was founded in Boston- civilization's cradle
of angry, red, blotchy, sports fans- by a bunch of guys who enjoy strong beer, smooth music, and antagonizing the sh*t out of their fantasy leagues. Sure, we all love the thrill of fantasy sports- firing up that laptop on a crisp, fall, Sunday afternoon, waiting for players' stat lines to come alive- and victory is great, but it takes a special kind of do*****ag to find true happiness in their friends' defeat. And that's who our product line is designed for- today's modern, horrible winner. If your league has a collective panic attack every time you make the finals, you're in the right place. Now buy something, will you?
