corrente

Boy what a shitty fucking week this has been. I'm glad it's Friday. What is it that they say? TGIFF, "thank god its fucking friday?" Yeah, I think that's it. Anyway, it's also Cat Blogging Friday. Or Feline Curiosa Friday. Or whatever it's called. But you all knew that anyway didn't you?


Which begs the question "Who needs cat blogging anyway?" Who the fuck cares. Furthermore, who needs a cat for christ's sake? Especially if you have a penis! Please, let me explain:

I don't need a cat because I have a penis. I know many of you don't have a penis and that's ok too, you probably can't help yourselves, and that is why you have a cat. But, if I were you, I'd get a penis instead. If that is within your means. And no, this isn't about sex or anything alarming like that. It's about "friendship". Or "companionship". Or just having some jerkoff to fuck around with. Or some variety of oversold petshop claptrap like that.

First of all having a penis is a lot like having a cat. I have a penis. Most of you probably suspected so much. You are a highly observant bunch who know a dick - i mean a penis! - a penis, when you see one. And you know what? I've had a penis a lot longer than I ever had a cat. Yes, I used to have a cat until it died and I buried her beneath a carpet of flowering forget-me-nots aside a shady woodlot, and you can read all about it right here if you really have any interest this kind of thing.

But I really want to talk to you about my Penis, if you don't mind, since it is Penis Blogging Friday, and because having a Penis is a lot like having a pussy. I mean a cat! Forgive me...

For instance: My Penis just lays around in my lap just like a kitty cat would do. No problem. I can pet Penis whenever I like and Penis won't even get up and run away. Actually Penis can't run away, thank god, if ya know what I mean.

Mostly my Penis will just lay right there in my lap purring happily away in fantasyland day after day after day. Even if I buy Penis one of those racy NASCAR magazines with pictures of wild country chicks in spandex and sunglasses and high heels wearing one of those vinyl jackets advertising Valvoline motor oil products and leaning against a tatooed Sharpie Ford Taurus my Penis won't scamper out of my lap and cack up a gooey hairball on the cover of the magazine the way kitty cat would. Never happen. And I wouldn't let it happen because both I and Penis have traditional conservative "red state" value respect for pussy, i mean women! I mean...oh boy, lets just move along...

Sure, sometimes Penis will wake up at funny hours and want to take a pee. But that's no problem. I just walk Penis out the back door and let him pee on a shrub, or that stupid annoying yard work thing that you wind a garden hose up in, and then I come right back inside. Its not like Penis is going to break free and chase a passing car up the road or go bounding into the underbrush after a June bug or anything like that. And there is no smelly stinking sandbox to change and maintain with Penis. Penis gave up playing in the sandbox a long time ago. Unlike kitty cats who insist on splashing around in boxes of sand until they inhale their last dying dusty litter-choked breath.

And Penis is loyal and doesn't ask for much attention. Sometimes Penis will simply wake up, stretch out, give me that faraway pleading look as if to say, "I'm here if you need me," or to simply make sure I'm still there for him if he ever needs me. Or something like that. In any case I will give him a gentle pat on the head as a fond reminder of our friendship and he will go back to sleep. Never fails.

Having your own penis is much less traumatic than having a cat. Your Penis won't filet the arm of your favorite sofa or nibble at stuff that you leave lying around on the utility sink in the basement. Or spend hours sitting in a corner of the dining room with some crazy look in it's eye staring at some poor doomed thing caught in a spider web. Kinda like how Alan Colmes does that too... you know... Or sit perched on a counter behaving in a sinister fashion while staring at you as if you were a large brainless snack. Your penis won't throw up all over the top of your VCR either. Unless your penis is a real fucking weirdo or something. But in most cases penises are pretty lazy and stupid and satisfied with just laying around in your lap waiting and hoping for a painless bloated death or one last shot at some long lost and mostly forgotten thrill which for the most part would probably at best cost a lot of money and at the least land Penis in a penal colony. But mostly, as I mentioned earlier, Penis just requires that you take him out to pee when needed. Unless you can afford to hire someone to take Penis out to pee. Now we're talking. Unfortunately most of us can't afford such domestic "help." So forget it.

Your penis won't run around batting holiday ornaments off your Christmas tree either. Well, maybe, occasionally, but I don't want to get into it if you don't mind. Years ago Mrs farmer would even take penis out for some frisky excursions and other interesting "family" occasions. As I said, once upon a time. Back when Mrs farmer gave a flying fuck about such things. Mrs farmer would even kiss penis goodnight on the head and tell him stories about how much he reminded her of "Mr. Snake" or on special occasions let him stay up late and play "charm the cobra" with Mrs pussy. Mrs farmer had a pussy. I mean a cat. In case you were wondering about that. That was before Mrs farmer ran off with SOME FUCKING DICKHEAD SON-OF-A-BITCH FROM.....oh, holy shit, sorry, I'm getting a little excited... Just forget that part too.

Where was I? Oh yeah, my Penis. My Penis pretty much follows me around wherever I go, and, unlike nervous kitty cats, doesn't mind riding in cars. Although occasionally, on torpid summer evenings, when the wind is calm and the mist hangs heavy on the night air and the rumble of a distant train can be heard in the valley, Penis thinks back to those days when Penis couldn't wait to leap like a wild peckerwood into the back seat of a town and country station wagon with imitation vinyl roof to flounce around with a bouncy pom-pom and behave in a generally uruly way. Them were the days. Sure beats sitting in the front seat on a late February afternoon listening to Neal Conan on NPR. Lemme tell ya.

I could take a picture of my Penis for you right now and post it here and call it Penis blogging Friday. But that would be disturbing wouldn't it? No? It wouldn't? Well in that case.... assuming I can wake Penis up... would you prefer a picture of Penis relaxing on a terricloth robe? Penis curled up in a furry ball on the sofa? Penis in the yard stalking a wiley titmouse? Penis riding on the back of Kitty Deer? Ooo yeah baby. Just don't tell Pete about that. Or Rick Santorum! Pleeeeze! I don't need that kind of trouble. I'm already in trouble for taking promiscuous photos of my friend Harry Woodpeckers old lady as she bent over to snatch a sunflower seed from the window box buffet. Really. I'm not kidding. I had to beg em both not to flee to Connecticut after that one. Yeesh.

And fortunately, unlike kitty cat, Penis isn't much stirred to homicidal passions by the sight of my friend Harry Woodpecker's partner Mrs Harry Woodpecker. Which, to be frank (whoever he is), comes as a great relief to both Harry and Mrs Harry Woodpecker. As a matter of fact I'd be willing to bet'cha that I could wake Penis up right now, sling a little ball of peanut butter and oats and rendered suet around his shaft, I mean neck!, sorry, and have him stand outside in the snow like a frozen popsicle and before you could say "kweek kweek kweek iik iik iik" Harry Woodpecker and Mrs Harry Woodpecker and the crazy Nuthatch twins would be all over him like a Screech Owl on a one legged dew drunk shrew.

Well, its time to go now. This conversation has been very refreshing. At least for me. Many of you are probably less refreshed. Perhaps you even feel a little slimy. Can't say I don't blame you for that but it's probably because you have a pussy, I mean a cat! A nice friendly little pussy cat. Sure. In any event - I have to go take a shower with Penis now.

Hey, that's another thing. Try to take a shower with your damned cat! Ha ha, yeah sure.... let me know how that fiasco turns out. Take a picture for me will ya, post it to your blog. Assuming you can get a shot off before you bleed to death on the bathroom floor like a shredded mackerel!

Like I said, its been a rough week. But I hope Penis Blogging Friday becomes a cherished blogosphere family tradition. Possibly outliving other such cherished traditions as the St Patrick's Day Parade and Easter egg hunts and killer Spring tornadoes. TGIPBF!

WTF?

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