It's time to talk about mud cred. Here in Attapulgus, our mud is so fine that they mine it, pack it up, and sell it for consumption. There ain't man, woman, nor child alive who hasn't swallowed some of our mud -- and paid for the privilege.
Attapulgite is the stuff they put in medicine to bind your ass up. When your mama came at you with a spoonful of Kaopectate because you couldn't hold your mud, she was feeding you ours -- and it did ya good. This clay mud is thicker, more absorbent, and slicker than any mud on Earth. It will climb up out of holes and grab your ass forever if you let it.
It takes a special breed to bog the Attapulgus. You've gotta be a tough SOB and you've gotta stay alert. You've gotta catch it when it infiltrates your machinery and always be ready to fix your shit. When the Attapulgus Gang takes it on the road and rides your local mud, it's like a cruise down the interstate to us -- just as easy as pecan pie. That's why, when you see us coming to your town, you lock up your women and run your bikes up to higher ground.
Attapulgite. This mud is in our pores and in our souls. We walk on it, bog in it, hunt on it. We barbecue in it, drink beer on it, and piss on it. Just remember that the next time you can't hold your own mud, and you pay to swallow some of ours -- it makes us proud to know that y'all got a little bit of Attapulgus Gang in every one of ya.
