Extremely well written, makes an omspiring read….

I really hate this “90% of iceberg is concealed underwater” story. Everyone blames the iceberg. Like it is being sneaky, lurking around underwater, hiding its true intentions. It’s time we shifted the blame to the water, where it belongs. Surely it makes more sense to say that “90% of the water is concealing an iceberg”.

Anyway, the whole story could easily be a fabrication of the MSM. How many of us have actually measured an iceberg?

If you want to describe Randall Hoven as “The tip of the ass-berg”, I expect to be credited.

However, the exhaust pipe fuck*rs is a new one to me, but each to their own, I suppose. I suppose its harmless, but decidely odd. The fact that he is a Brit is not worthy of further comment.

“Involuntary orgasms during the cleaning of automobiles. Studies reveal an increasing incidents of sexual climaxes among persons cleaning automobiles. In many cases the subject remained unaware of the discharge of semen across the polished paintwork and complained to his spouse about birds. One isolated case reported to a psychiatric after-care unit involved the first definitive sexual congress with a rear exhaust assembly. It is believed that the act was conscious.”

The weirdness, fer crissakes, is the LINGERIE!!

Now, I know some dudes wear the lingerie. I know some dudes even wear their WIFE’S sexy underwear. As a side note, my sister had shit.

But if your thing is to fuck the exhaust pipes of passenger automobiles, what’s the deal with the teddy and stockings? Are they part of the rush? It’s a car/xdressing rush?

Or if it’s just a car thing, wouldn’t you be better off in hubcaps and sheet metal?

I just don’t get it…

mikey

What I wonder is if fucking the vehicles in the tailpipe means we are supposed to infer some inherent kinkiness on the part of the vehicles involved.

Dunno if by “they” you mean “this particular cat” or “cats in general”.

My dad trained the family cat (Midnight) to sit and shake a paw on command for food rewards. Cats are trainable, but you gotta make it worth their while.

When the cat was ten years old, we sold the house and moved. We decided it would be pretty traumatic for the cat to move too, and the neighbors had room in their menagerie (and hearts) for another critter.

We all left town going separate ways.

Three years later, Mum and Dad were back visiting friends in the old hometown. Popped by the neighbors, and the old cat wandered by. Dad piped up with “G’day Mid.” The cat stopped, looked up and blinked a few times, then sat and put his right-front paw in the air, ready to shake hands. You could almost hear him say “G’day John.”