My animal rights heroism

I will not be covering the North Korea skirmish with South Korea because we do not have all the facts. It could be anything from World War III to a mistake (yeah right). Nothing should be ruled in or out.

I will also not be spending any more time on the Thanksgiving Day airport situation because my attempt to have the ladies on Desperate Housewives turned into honorary airport security for the week has failed. Without Teri Hatcher or Eva Longoria doing the frisking, I think I will stay home.

So today is a day for me to be lighthearted and thankful that I do not have to observe Gloria Allred groaning in pleasure as some sweaty behemoth plays with her granny panties.

The one man who has had the good fortune to be me is quite lucky and blessed indeed.

Those living vicariously through me have witnessed or observed my greatness.

There was the time I gave up my seat to a black woman on a bus, making me the second coming of Rosa Parks. The fact that I was getting off at that stop anyway is irrelevant.

There was also the time when I spoke to a woman without staring at her cleavage.

Yes, she was hideous, but that is immaterial. I did not look at her at all, champion of feminism that I am.

I became a hero of the gay rights movement by offering a brilliant compromise of allowing gay rights for homosexual men but condemning the behavior for lesbians. I even compromised further, allowing ugly lesbians to do as they pleased. Critics accused me of just trying to get more hot women for myself. Those critics have no idea the burden I bare being a bra burning feminist.

(I wonder who’s bra that was anyway. I hope she does not want it back.)

So it is in this vein (or vain perhaps) that I reveal my animal rights heroism.

Yes, you read that correctly. I am a hero to the animal rights movement.

Some of you may point out that I am to the right of Ted Nugent when it comes to the philosophy of beef, which is kill it and grill it.

(On Thanksgiving Thursday, stabbing a turkey with a fork is a guilty pleasure, although the turkey is already dad and quite flavorful thanks to the good makers of Swanson dinners.)

I also agree with Nugent on his philosophy of “Wang, dang, sweet (redacted),” but that is for another day.

Anyway, back to me being a hero and animal lover.

The year was 2006. I was in Honolulu. The country bar was “Nashville Waikiki.”

For those confused, I was not in Tennessee. I was in Oahu, Hawaii. It was a country music bar on Kuhio Avenue.

I saw “her.” I will not elaborate about her, because she was your standard hot raven-haired Goddess…no biggie.

Yet I know that nothing warms the hearts of most women like trees and animals. I have no idea why, but flora, fauna, and furry fuzzies make them want to visit the island of fornicatia.

As for me, if one thing gets my hackles up, it is abuse of animals. It is one thing to eat beef, but barbecuing dogs and cats is totally unacceptable!

(This is how liberals operate. They make a statement nobody could possibly disagree with, and then accuse you of being insensitive for not saying it first, meaning you do support the evil action. I am against using goat horns to violate women, which means that everybody else I dislike supports doing this and are misogynists for not taking up the cause without me “prodding” them.)

Some barbarians actually eat horse meat, which is illegal. According to my Dennis Leary handbook on animals, we are only supposed to care about the cute ones. Otters and seals get to live. Cows are steaks and baseball gloves.

Well horsies are adorable, and it is high time somebody stepped in and saved them all.

So in the spirit of protecting these noble creatures, I needed to let this brunette Goddess know how I felt about combating the evil and brutality involved with hurting these animals.

I walked toward her, and with inspiration from animal lovers Big and Rich, showed my compassion.

“Sweetness,” I said to her…

“Save a horse, ride a cowboy.”

With that, she understood my message. I was a lustful humanitarian.

“I saddle up my horse, and I ride into the city…

I make a lot of noise, ’cause the girls they are so pretty…

Riding up and down Broadway, on my old stud Leroy…

All the girls say ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy.'”

So to that cowgirl who was part Nashville, part Waikiki, and 100% brunette Goddess, I would like to thank you for helping me spread my…cause.

Even a guy who is 5 ft 5 can be tall in the (side) saddle.

I will not rest until every animal is saved or I am exhausted, whichever comes first.

No need to thank me. I was just doing what I (lusted) loved.

To all of those horses (and horses’ hides also known as animal rights activist zealots) who are alive today because she decided to save a horse and ride a cowboy, there is only one thing to say.

You’re welcome. I would do it again…and again…and again.


2 Responses to “My animal rights heroism”

  1. Look, I love ya’ man, and I love your sense of humor, your freedom and adventures, and your political accumen. I’m just saying that for your personal sake, you really gotta rein in this kinda stuff. I wrote along similar themes in music when I was young, and I really lived what I preached. Though I found people got a real kick out it, I could also see that I was never going to be able to marry and have a normal life if I were to continue my audacious behavior.

    So, I pulled back a little, accepting that as a (an extremely relative) well-adjusted adult, I could not make light of life the way I always had. In doing so, I learned something about myself – I actually like being a civil, grown, mature adult. The kind of man that could hold a personal conversation (well, ask questions and listen) with a guy like William F. Buckley.

    Now, of course, I’m not questioning you’re a mature, intelligent, classy man! I’m saying that it must be very difficult to believe one thing, adhere to it, and still not be able to enjoy the fruits of it. I mean, if you believe that conservatism makes for a better, more wholesome, socially stable, family-oriented society, it must be a stone on your back to not be able to live that. But you can’t, because you travel – a lot. Really, that’s what it all comes down to.

    So, let me say this:


    You could all do a heckluva lot worse. Oh, and by the way all – I’m a liberal. I real live liberal. Just ask the Tygrrrr. If a liberal can enjoy this quixotic man, than any smart, attractive, charismatic woman could do the same.

    And good for you, Eric, for your audacious writing!


  2. blacktygrrrr says:

    As brash as I am, I find your comments humbling.

    So the only thing for me to say is thank you very much.

    eric :)

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