As before, I seek to explore the boundaries of this "caturday" phenomenon, and this time we turn to the rich and evocative world of fungi.
Can your mere cat do this?
No. It is a failure then. I wash my hands of their dry furriness and plunge them into the feculent, fecund ooze of the ripening fungus. It is erotic: smooth, moist, slippery with rising phallic stalks and soft plump mounds. No cat can compare.
No one would ever look at a pussy and think of sex.
More like this
When will the stupidity end?
Really. When?
But you haven't, have you?
From Henry Gee's blog:
I can tell. It's coming. A royal heir has gotten engaged to some young woman, and there will be one of those royal weddings, and the sentimental argle-bargle in the British media will soar to new heights of fatuousness.