All bicycles are bisexual and God bless my bicycle! It saved me twice this week. Not only did I win a race wth a tow truck, saving my van from imprisonment, it also saved me an ass kicking from a deranged wigger and his entourage. I was returning from a house of a friend of mine, who interestingly enough is Bach's great-great-grand-niece, when suddenly I was greeted with a swerving sporty yellow Mustang. One guy jumped out and waited for me on the curb, signalling his intent. I turned my bike at the last moment, granting me the surprise element, still totally confused, thinking that I must have matched another's profile. Later on I would learn, they were scrapping with

everyone this way. A full beer can just barely missed my head.

The aggressor ran after me at top speed, repeatedly yelling "Faggot!" "Queer!" and the like. Some people are so transparent. I would have loved to satisfy this guy's skin hunger and fight back, but even my narcissist ego knew I was outnumbered. Instead I left him to his own devices in what is probably malehood's greatest irony. This guy was RAGING with skin hunger. It is possible he was over the edge desperate to impress his peers, but I doubt it. He wanted blood.

The way he advertised his homophobia while coming to come touch ME is classic. I figured he wanted to fight because fighting, to his kind, is the only acceptable way of physical contact between males. I'm not saying he was gay, in addition to being confused. For the record, I don't believe any male is strictly homosexual, nor do I believe any female strictly heterosexual. Coming from me, everyone is attracted by female sexuality. That's right, no men are gay, all woman are bisexual.

To further dissect my impression of this guy, I would judge his social life as being limiting, to say the least. It's true, we physically NEED human touch, regardless how we receive it. Or ask for it. I once read we need at least half a dozen huge a day A DAY before noticeable physiological and psychiatric symptoms begin to occur. If one is completely deprived of human physical touch, one literally goes insane. That I can attest to, having once lived alone in the woods. That poor bastard has been suffering, and I'm just grateful I didn't have to
share it with him. Go hug your friends asshole. And yes, this has an unbelievable amount to do with my bicycle.

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