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October 31, 2020


Animal sanctuary in Gilbert offering cow hugging sessions

(Thanks to pharmaross)


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This reminds me of my ex and our honeymoon.

Apparently, there are some who find this to be an utterly moving experience.

I wonder if you have to tip the cows afterwards.


Well, I'm a-standing on a corner
In Winslow, Arizona
Such a fine sight to see
It's a cow, my Lord
In a flat-bed Ford
Slowin' down to get a hug from me

Now I've got seven cows on my mind
Four that wanna own me
Two that wanna stone me
One says she's a cuddler of mine

A hard pass on the spider hugging also.

5* Snork to man tom. Great job!

Take it from the cheesehead -- insist on the girl cows. Even if you're a girl.

There's a farm close to my house and occasionally they let the cows out in a pasture close to the road. Last spring I had to grab one of my "not so bright" neighbors because she was going to hug a calf. I told her that the calf might not mind but Mom and Dad Cow might take exception to it. Dad Cow was one of the biggest bulls I've ever seen and he definitely had his eye on her.

As Mongo (of Blazing Saddles) says, "Hugging, slugging, what's the difference?"

A short story of interest about cows. At around seven my Dad used to give me swallows of his Falstaff. It was really his cigarettes I wanted. Raliegn non-filter. We saved the coupons for hunting equipment. I would get a book of matches and go around collecting his Raliegh butts, use my matches in back of the house, and smoke and act like I was Al Capone. You're asking yourself, "so man tom. what does this have to do with cows?" Nothing, but I will work that art in here. Meanwhile while I was seven drinking and starting to chain smoke, the family took a trip to my Aunt and Uncle's dairy frm. I was a large fame. Probably several million acres covering most of the state. My cousin, George, takes out to a small fence in pasture area just away from the hundred or more milk cows. Before we walk out there to the fence, George reminds me it's cold, put on my coat. Now, my coat uis bright red like a firetruck. George goes inside the fence with this gargantuion bull, I'll call him Scarface. George dares me to come inside the fence. Being seven and street smart like I was I could tell the Scarface was *really*upset with me being near his fence. George reminded me Scarface noticed my bright red coat and would gore me unmercifully should I cross his fence. Later, around 1967 when I was twelve we visited the farm again like we did every year. George asked me if I would like to take a ride in his '67 Ford Fairlane. I said, "I thought you drove the tractor all day, but yeah." One-hundred and ten miles an hour folks. Down a two lane black top at over a hundred leaving the ground on some of the small, blind rises in the road. As we flew along Tobacco road in a loud of dust I remembered the bull and thought, "George is trying to hurt me, but He smokes Camel non filters." First chance I got I bought me a pack of Camel non filters. Absolutely true.

The names have not been changed to protect the innocent. It was me.

@man tom

Take it easy, take it easy
Don't let the sound of George's wheels drive you crazy

@ mad Hatter - I'm still a bit riled up over the bull, the Falstaff I drank as a seven year old and generally my childhood. I'm headed for Japan.

@ man tom - Actually, I've thought for some time now that your life story would make an incredible movie. I didn't realize it had already been made!

Probably better than "slapping the bull".

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