Pursuant two items mentioned in Friday's posting: ONE, I do NOT have a hairy posterior. Any mention of the hirsuteness of my tuches was purely the invention of my significant other, by whose standards all white people are overly endowed with fur, fuz, pelt, hairy bits, and navel-lint. Chinese people are not so fortunate, and consequently I believe she resents my rather modest topographic behairedness.
Repeat, not hairy - except in her beady little eyes, at seven-thirty in the morning, when she is full of sugar and in a feisty mood. I feel I must stress this, because I have heard that the young daughter of a friend let out a stream of ew! ew! ew! and several icks upon reading Friday's post over her mother's shoulder. Which was almost immediately followed by the question "does he really have a hairy ....?", and the snapped response thereto "how the heck should I know? Why don't you ask him yourself!".
Again, no dense moss on the keel. Despite evil rumours to the contrary.
And item number TWO: Attended the Folsom Street Fair yesterday. As previously mentioned, it was in an informative and educational capacity.
Never have so many naked men been so glad to see me. One would scarce have thought it possible that a fully clothed person smoking a pipe and wearing a kippah would be so welcomed.
[I do not often wear a kippah in public, but if everyone else is wearing tribal colours (or by their lack of clothing advertising affiliations), then it makes sense that I too should "express my individuality by dressing like my companions". And note that many attendees did just that by being undressed exactly alike.]
First one up was a Jewish gentleman from Fresno, with whom my colleague and I had a nice long chat about Israel and pro-Israel activism. This is when I realized that it would be best for me to stand the entire time, so as to be able to have a face to face conversation. My colleague, however, had to remain seated most of the day due to a physical infirmity, poor man. He coped with that situation by frequent reference to a bottle of single-malt.
My associate has informed me that he wishes to forget for the rest of his life that this day ever happened, and I shall be sure to remind him in detail of the day when he is sober again.
The pamphlets about the legal position of gays in Israel, and the freedoms accorded them, as well as their serving in the IDF, were extremely popular. Even to people who were fully clothed.
The happy pro-Israel prophylactics (slogan: "Israel - It's still safe to come") proved a smash hit ("they're like fortune cookies - you never know what you'll find inside").
Several people took them with the excuse "I'm getting these for my friend; he's Jewish". Many of the people who said this were girls. One of whom gave a disciplined nod to modesty by wearing nipple-clamps with chains that kept her err, ums from doing anything untoward.
I do not know what she was wearing below the navel, as I maintained eye-contact.
Oddly, I cannot remember what her face looked like at all.
A cluster of dear sweet goth dominatrix lolita-types grabbed handfuls to stock the bathroom at work. I forgot to ask them where they work.
By physical evidence alone, the majority of men attending the fair may have been Jewish. Even the little Asian gentleman with no place to put the free literature or the condoms.
Many people wore black. I doubt that they were chossids, but it made some of us feel right at home.
Some people combined fetishes - clamped and studded vampire pirate catgirl with fairy wings and a strap-on furry tail, or a fat man wearing leather gag hog mask, handcuffs, and a pink ballerina skirt.
Also some people dressed like European or Japanese tourists in the wrong part of town - now that's a twisted fetish I don't even want to know about, those people are just sick, along with the men wearing diapers.
After eleven hours of the fair, I know more about studs, clamps, rings, straps, collars, corsets, chains, leashes, lashes, tattoos, eye-liner, and tight leather negligee than is really healthy. On the other hand, several of the attendees now know more about Israel and the middle-east than they ever knew before, and several remarkably well-endowed Jews know that there is a group out there that fights back against the anti-Semitism with which the Bay Area is sodden. As do several sympathetic quite unJewish gentlemen.
[Including one wearing fetching yellow knee-pads and nothing else. ]
So yes, it was a productive and worthwhile day. I'm glad we did it. We must have talked to hundreds of very positive people, and given away well over a thousand pro-Israel condoms.
Put them to good use, ladies and gentlemen, and make someone happy. Use them in the best of health. Or pass them on to a friend. Feel the love.
19 comments:
One.) Surely the best way to resolve the young lady's question would have been to drop trou (posterior view only, of course).
Two.) I must commiserate with your associate, who had way too much face-time, so to speak, from his seated position. At least the weather was temperate; if it had been the previous weekend, you would have been dealing with some seriously sweaty, overheated, leather clad and unclad, folks, indeed.
Most young ladies do not take a mooning as an answer to any question. Doubtfull, however, whether she would've gladly felt the nesting trolls in answer to her serious question.
I think the ew ew ew ew ew ick ick ick indicated precisely and exactly the level of her interest.
It is fun to engage in such academic exercises, is it not?
---Grant Patel
I am a smooth man, but my brother Esau is an hairy man. I am a smooth man.
---Grant Patel
By which I do not mean to suggest that BOTH is as Esau. He, too, is likely a smooth man.
Though his snarkificient other might otherwise opine.
---Grant Patel
It is my thought that most of the men who are naked at those events are precisely the one who should not be. And the ones who should be nude, sadly, are not!
also, i would have been standing as well
I see you got a mention in the Monday Chronicle...Janus spanking booth, eh?
Spanking and knickers, Jesus!
---Grant Patel
Why Jesus?
Can we move on? I feel that the less time spent contemplating BOTH's hairy bum, the sooner we can get back to more edifying topics, such as beavers. And semprini.
Or, here's a thought:
why doesn't BOTH post a photo of his buttocks on this site, so that his readership might judge whether he or Savage Kitten is telling it straight?
It takes a very good single malt and a significant quantity of it to wash THOSE images from my mind!
R
For the record, I am NOT soliciting an image of BOTH's furry derriere: it is merely my contention that, unless BOTH spends time contorting himself in front of a floor-length mirror (a image that is far too "Silence Of The Lambs"-like for my comfort), Savage Kitten is bound to have a more objective assessment of the hirsuteness of the posterior in question.
At random, three of the thousands of things I would rather look at/contemplate than either a photo of BOTH's botty or the image above:
1.) kittens
2.) the Food Network
3.) nubile, freshly waxed strippers.
We thank HB for his pro-active involvement.
despite his smoking of dead foliage and (acc. to close witnesses accounts) a purty furry tush - his heart is in the right place
which is what matters..
Jolly good show old boy!
Graham
Purty fuury tush? I'm thinking more like horrid furry can. I had envisioned him as a smooth operator, not a missing link.
Either a smart monkey or a social bigfoot.
Documentary material: "Yetis in the Fog".
About the big apes of Northern California. Tell me it ain't so, dear BOTH. Smooth, yes? OR at least shaven on the backside, with the red soreness dissipated (razor burn), and no longer glowing like a monkey's bum. Please yes.
Dipillitate. Nair. And pumice.
Burning, burning, burning!
---Grant Patel
Nothing more disquieting than hairs sticking out through the fabric. Boxers, long socks, panty hose...... PANTIES!
Depends on the hairs, on second thought.
Hello Lev, PANTIES!!!
----Grant Patel
I have no problem with a Blogmeestzer whose "posterior" is furry.
But then again I live in Germany - where many women do not shave their armpits or legs.
And I've been to Greece - where many village women have facial hair.
I'll choose to believe SKs observations
Viva the werewolf!
blog on!
Graham
Again,I would urge Mr.Patel to stop waving his panties in Lev's face.
How do you know they're mine? They were just laying there, yer honour, I have no idea how they got there. I had nothing to do with it.
Is there some kind of Jewish shindig going on? Is that why Lev has not beeen around? I worry about that man.
---Grant Patel
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