Homer looked at him. Cliff Jackson, in spite of his fabulous build,
hadn't a fighting man's background.
Homer grinned and said, "You'll work with me. We're going into Tuareg
country. Whenever occasion calls for it, whip off that shirt and go
strolling around with that overgrown chest of yours stuck out. The
Tuareg consider themselves the best physical specimens in the Sahara,
which they are. They admire masculine physique. You'll wow them."