A Few Weeks Back . . .

. . . The Girlfriend and I went to a friend's birthday party.

This friend is of the sort who will determine the viability of a place based on whether or not they have a dance floor. Don't get me wrong there's nothing wrong with dancing. It's just that by 22. 23. Most women have figured out that club dancing is just something designed by men which allows us to grind our erections on you because that's what you find sexy, no? It's the socially permissible variant of a puppy on a leg. So we're at this place in the southwest 'burbs when some song comes on suggesting the listener to "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy."

What a stupid fucking song. Especially when such a phrase can be used for good instead of bad. It could promote a level of social consciousness and awareness.

Save a tall bike, ride an ironic hipster.

Save a Prius, ride someone who doesn't get it.

Save a Smart Car, ride someone who will be killed in a mild fender-bender.

Save a motorcycle, ride a man trying to over compensate.

Save a Bonneville, ride 20-mexicans.

Save a bus, ride a black guy.